Fun fact: I've written this one only a day apart from 'Mirror, Mirror' which is the complete opposite of this story. I always find it shocking how my mind can swing from one extreme to the other. Certain people in my life are really lucky that sometimes writing is my only outlet.

To J. - till we meet again.

I wait for him by the heavy, carefully closed curtains, furthest away from the door where he enters. His otherwise cute puppy face has a rugged look sporting a few days old scruff. He’s studying my naked shape with an uneasy smile and arches an eyebrow when his gaze reaches my cute bunny slippers. I know, not your typical dominatrix attire. Surprising and shocking people is one of my favourite little perverted ploys.

After a few months of T.’s stringent workout regime, I finally feel confident in my skin again - a perfect combination of a toned bod and soft curves to die for, or so I’m told constantly. I styled my long black hair into large curls to frame my face, and I’m wearing my favourite smoky eye make up with carmine lippy.

“Like what you see, pet?” I break the silence against the soft tunes playing on the TV in the background. I’m not expecting a reply and he knows that. He waits patiently for me to speak again. I lift my body up to my tiptoes, pretending to take a step forward, but instead I straighten my posture and raise my shoulders slightly, in the hope that he will notice my arms; they are behind my back, obviously hiding something.

“Lock the door behind you.” I tell him on a tone, every sensible person would be wary of following orders from. But he’s not here to be sensible. He is here to do absolutely anything I tell him to do. And that power-trip is taking my head on a right wicked spin. “It’s nice to see you again,” I welcome him on a honeyed tone, then narrowing my eyes at him, I add “slave.”

Me and him have a bit of history. I saw him a few times, nearly two years ago now. I was still only trying my domme wings and he was a very willing volunteer I could practice on. Back then, me being very inexperienced, we just went with things he wanted to try. I’d let him wear what he wanted, do what he wanted between the agreed limits. But it wasn’t what either of us truly desired. This time it will be all different.

“Put those on,” I instruct him, gesturing towards the small pile on the bed. We established last time that he likes his hoods, gimp masks, latex suit, and all sorts of rather extreme fetish wear. That is what he needs to be able to shred his real skin and turn into the submissive plaything he craves to be. But if I wanted to be honest, I hated it. I want to play with a person, who resembles a human being or at least a pet. The full on latex gimp suit is a complete turn off, it looks like a bin liner was vacuum-sealed on them. So, I had spent a few days online and came up with a compromise, buying him a black and white leather dog mask and some body harnesses.

“If the harness is not enough and you want something more restrictive, more latex, we can find something else. But the dog mask stays. I like that. And it was expensive.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”  I’m normally not fond of that title but the way he pronounces that word, I find his cute lisping snake tone adorable.

“I like my well mannered, well trained puppy,” I curl my lips into a pleased smile.

Seeing him don all that sexy leather gear gets me really worked up. I like shopping for them. My little kink, I guess. I help him secure the straps around his neck, chin and torso. The tender touch of my soft fingertips are in a delicious contrast with the act of putting a harness on him and my wicked thoughts of how I will hold him down, pull and manoeuvre his head using those straps. My mind takes me back to all the memories of how good his tongue is, how eager he is to please. After all that is all he gets to do to me and that circumscription is intoxicating.

“Hmmm, that’s better,” I whisper, cocking my head, admiring the results. My very own little pet project. I’d like to think this is something very special, I can give him something very special, because I know exactly where he is, what he needs. We both hail from the same heavenly hell.

“On the floor, now!” I order him. Oh, I’m loving this. I will get him a pair of those restrictive leather dog paw mittens too. “Sit.” And a tail too. I will enjoy working that into his slutty ass and make him sit on it. Hmmm, this is fun.

I step closer, teasing him by just standing there. My chest rises and falls in rhythm with the background music – my favourite chill house playlist. I sway my hips as I walk around him, still carefully hiding the paddle behind my back. It must feel like forever to him. For me it’s a very enjoyable game that I could play on for ever. I tap my feet playfully from time to time as I inspect him from every angle. The playboy-like bunny ears flip back and forth playfully on my slippers. I don’t think he suspects a thing. He doesn’t know me that much yet. He probably just thinks they are very comfortable and I like them a lot.

I pull my new magenta paddle from behind my back. It’s my current favourite toy. With it’s fifteen inches length, it is snappy, loud and has a deliciously mild sting. Perfect for one who cannot be marked. I open my legs slightly drawing a line with it on my naked thigh. Then rest it on my mons forming a small angle with my landing strip.

“Do you want this, pet?” I ask, noticing my lips freezing into an open pout at the last syllable.

He yaps a barely audible, “Yes, Miss.”

I put the paddle under his chin horizontally, holding both ends, I raise his head up slightly till his gaze meets mine. His submissive eyes glow amber underneath the white leather mask. “You are not very convincing, pet! Be an obedient pup and repeat that for me.”

“I want to serve and worship that pussy, Miss.”

“Now, that’s better. But we’ll see about it. I’m not in the mood,” I fuss on a disappointed tone. “Get me in the mood!” I snap at him frustrated as if it was all his fault. “Lick my legs. Just use your tongue and mouth. Do not put your dirty paws on me! Do you understand?”

He starts by blowing gentle kisses on my heel, his warm breath tickling my ankle. He draws a line with his wet tongue where my foot sinks into the fluffy bunny ‘fur’. I’m very tempted to kick the slippers off and I suspect that is what he’s counting on, playing at. I remember how he liked to suck my toes last time. Filthy clean up slave his little soul is. I’d enjoy watching him do that. I’d remind him once again, that one day he can join a different session, because I want to see a thick cock between those sexy innocent-looking lips. (It’s his soft limit and I like nothing more than toying with those.) But non of that maddening, forshadowy toe-sucking today. Bunny slippers stay on as they are an important prop for something else. Can you guess? I hope he cannot.

His lips feel amazing on my calves, he’s really taking his time, going so nice and slow. God, I needed this, I needed someone to treat me like this. Why the hell did I not call him earlier? (Because I was dealing with a lot, that's why.) The dog mask suits him too and I love how the soft leather gives me an extra tickle.

It seems, by not allowing him to use his hands, I did give him a bit of a challenge, because once he reaches my thighs he’s really struggling to keep his balance. I slightly part my legs to give him easier access and... to tease him with the sight and scent of my dripping pussy that he may or may not have today.

Oh, who am I kidding? I absolutely cannot wait to have his expert tongue inside me. But, of course he doesn’t need to know that. I turn around, facing away from him now, with a very sick plan in my head: I close my legs, squeeze them tightly together. “Everywhere you can reach... but remember, no hands.”

He goes back to my ankles again. His wide tongue slithers up the back of my leg like a sexy warm snake. His leather snout is a somewhat harsher sensation against my skin. Damn this is hot. When he reaches my bum I can barely stand. Good job I’m not wearing heels. It takes all my willpower not to open my legs for him. “Other leg!” I have to bite my lip to be able to form the words.

He goes annoyingly slow. The little cheeky one is teasing me. Hah, you’ll pay for this and you know that! I would tell him that, but I’m gritting my teeth trying not to cave. When his wet tongue reaches my soft hills, I lose all my willpower and open my legs just a few millimetres. He is balancing his weight by leaning into me, his face on my ass. Or ‘in’ really, trying to wedge my cheeks apart. I don’t know where his hands are but I have a feeling if I moved even the slightest, he would lose his balance and fall over. Power trip of the sweetest kind. I think we have to repeat this with his hands tied behind his back one day.

“Stay up there now and use a little teeth.”  What? Did I just ask him to bite my butt? Only my husband gets to do that. Well, until now. “Mmmm, that’s it, I love that,” I purr as he nibbles on my soft flesh.

Ah, fuck it. Let’s go all the way. I had a rough week, month, I deserve some fun. I throw myself on the bed, knees on the floor, hip resting on the side of the bed. “All yours, pet, give me a treat.”

It briefly runs through my mind what would my husband make of this if he saw me like this, offering pretty much everything for my slave to feast on. Would he think that our little ‘no penetration’ rule still sufficed to keep this in check? Very unlikely. But it’s not like I can put a harness on him and order him around, can I? No. We tried that. It didn’t work. We are both switches, yet he wouldn’t let me top him. But maybe it is for the better. If we need other people for different days, different fantasies, then be it. If you try to stuff your feet into the wrong size shoe it gives you terrible blisters. And blisters are the worst things ever. I’m just happy I have a husband who is on the same page and that I have found J.

And even happier that his tongue has found my bliss button.

“Damn, you don’t mess around, pet.”

“Sorry, Mistress,” I think he hums. It might be just a tune in the music or a note in the white noise in my ears. As if he was just part of the ambiance. He kind of is. Just one of my toys.

“No, don’t fucking stop!” I shriek. He seals his lusty lips tight around my clit and sucks gently. My hands involuntarily rearrange the thick maroon duvet into desperate little handful sized peaks. He mustn’t know the hold he has over me in this moment. “Nice and deep, pet! I want you to get me ready for a nice big cock later.” There. That should rectify the chain of command.

Moaning loudly, I grind my hips on his tongue. I wonder what’s in his submissive mind. Would he fuck me if I let him? Oh, of course he would. He told me many times. But that won’t happen. These little get-togethers are happening on that very condition that it won’t. But in this very moment, with his tongue deep inside me but yet not quite scratching that itch, it's just not enough.

I’m tempted to ring hubby to come upstairs and finish the job this little slave started. But he’s looking after the kid, in fact took him to the park on my instructions, so I can ‘practice’ with  J. Isn’t he just the best? He is the fucking best! This is theee best. Mmmmm. “Harder! Use that tongue! Deeper!” He's drowning in me while I'm fantasising about filthy future scenarios with husband involved and others, of course.

“You can use your hands now, pull me apart, make me cum.” I beg him on a voice that muddles up our roles again. God, I think I need much more practice. He will probably be happy to hear that.

He knows what he's doing. We had plenty of practice of that. I’m not far and he knows that, yet decides to tease me licking me with long soft strokes from my clit to my bum. And I feel so empty. It's killing me that this is not leading to something much more carnal.

"J., you do need to make some of your weekends free," I purr riding the waves his tongue stirs on my folds and clit.

"I will, Mistress," he hums and I don't know if it's his promise or his lips around my sensitive button but it throws me up into the hypoxic atmosphere. None of the big rainbow prism, Earth shattering, life altering orgasms. But it will soothe me for a while.

“Oh god, I needed that,” I breathe heavily into the scrunched up, piled up bedding. I'm tempted to thank him, but I bite my tongue. No, not this one. I should maybe pat him on the head but that would be too comical and ruin the mood.

Of course, we are not done, but he doesn’t know that and starts unbuckling his mask.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I crackle, still a bit light-headed. "We are not finished. Far from it." I order him to kneel on the floor while I collect myself. I pick up the paddle from the floor that I dropped at some point. “Do you like my new toy?” I ask him. I notice his hard cock twitch as I slap the leather against my left palm. “The Wolf used it on me the other day. I loved it. I think you will, too.”

I lick the full length of it then order him to stick his tongue out and do the same. He looks into my eyes while his tongue traces the pink leather and I feel the heat of fire within his gaze. This is one sick game. I bend down to his level and put the paddle between our tongues and slide it downwards tentatively. When I open my lips to envelope the inch-wide barrier surface he follows suit and we engage in the most awkward but extremely hot snogging. We both know what that instrument symbolises and I can't wait to share one of my favourite kinks with him next time.

“Fuck, I could do this forever,” I grunt, breaking up our temporary special bond. But regretting it instantly.

I kiss his lips and hold his lower lip between my teeth as I slap the paddle against the side of his thigh. He flinches and pulls away from me. It wasn’t even that hard.

“Do not try that again!”

“Sorry, Mistress.”

“It turns me on when I hurt you,” I share perhaps too much with a twisted smirk, my eyes dark and wide. I dip my fingers into my leaking pussy and make him taste just how much. With my fingers still in his mouth, I kiss him again. “Do not dare to pull away from me, ever! Bite my fingers if you need to.”

I slap him again. Much harder this time. Because this one is for real punishment out of true anger. He takes it well but he sinks his teeth into my fingers, which I don't mind. I can take much worse than this without a hiss. This is hot. My submissive, pain-slut alter ego getting a bit of her fill too. Just let's not allow her to slip.

"We need to build up your pain tolerance," is all I say, trying to restore the imaginary crown on the top of my head.

"As you wish, Mistress."

As stated earlier: this time it will all be different. This time it's my sick games. He told me the first time we met, that he wants to be my absolute sub; he will do and want to do what I want him to do. So, no, I won't hold back.

And I want to hurt him. I want that cute puppy face twisted into pain. And I tell him that, looking into his eyes as if he was nothing. His little soul curls up into a ball in complete surrender.

I stroke his masked face and neck with the paddle. "Grab your pathetic cock," I order him. "I want to see you rubbing yourself and cum on these bunny slippers."

He tries to catch my eyes to see whether I'm joking or not. Far from it. And I'm cross with him for even the slightest assumption.

"Get on with it, like now! Spit on your hand to lubricate it."

I can't remember where my obsession of watching men masturbate originates from. My husband definitely fuelled it right from the beginning when he slightly overdone the usual dick pic and sent me a wank vid instead, laying it all out, plain and simple and of course getting me hooked. And even these days when we spend so much time apart having to rely on cam sex... But no, it started much earlier... Maybe in my early twenties when I had a two year online 'fling' with B.? Oh, 'fling' definitely doesn't do justice to what we had. If I combine all the kinky shit I get down to these days, well multiply that by about ten and that would be him, us. I wonder in which damned corner of this Earth he resides these days and whether he has found anyone so eager to feast on his fucking dark and sick mind as I was. Damn.

Where the hell was I?

Oh J. and his fist - wedding band and all - on his cock... Another little kink of mine. I can't stop myself grabbing hold of his hand and sucking his fingers, paying particular attention to the old fashioned golden ring.

He doesn't like to talk about it. All I know is that she is in the dark and she's completely vanilla. Both a big fucking shame to be honest. But I understand. Not many would be open to this.

But luckily we are.

Oh we are.

"You are, aren't you, pet?"

He looks at me clueless, his fist stopping for a second. So I slap him on his arm. "Who said you can stop? Come on, I have more important things to do than watching you wank," I urge him.

I wrap my left hand around his throat and squeeze hard. That normally does the trick. And spanking his naked thigh.

"Thank you, Mistress," he mouths without a sound as he spurts his spunk on my poor little bunnies. Last time he did that it was my bare feet and I made him lick it off. This time I think I will be considerate and forgo that detail. I don't want all that fluff in his mouth. I'm not that evil.

“I need a quick shower, pet. See you next week?”

He nods quietly and mumbles a soft ‘thank you’.

Being 6pm, after emerging from the bathroom, I don my tight black running gear and stroll down the stairs. Hubby is in the kitchen. Not because he has any business being there, but he is obviously waiting for me to share the details.

He stares at the soiled slippers in my hand. “What the fuck have you two been up to?”

“What do you think we’ve been up to?” I reply nonchalantly grabbing my water bottle from the fridge. “I made him cum on these. They needed a wash anyway.”

“You are fucking sick in the head,” he laughs rolling his eyes.

“Oh, just be grateful that I have someone who does the dirty job and you don’t have to sink down to my psycho levels... or onto your knees.” I indicate the floor in front of him where he should be kneeling. At least on certain days of the month. At least now. But obviously he won’t. We established that a long time ago. That’s why I need J.

I step into the laundry room, toss the slippers into the drum then leave through the front door. “See you in an hour Mr SickInTheHead,” I grin and give him a nice deep kiss. “Oh, and we have a date tonight, right? That,” and I point upstairs, “just left me wanting more.”

I run a very frustrated hour, dreaming about the kid going to bed early and me getting his big cock inside me ASAP.