A Tease-and-Denial Fantasy

I picture you clothed, no shoes, sitting on a hard chair.
Maybe we are in the wooden room at Studio Lux. It's my favorite, with its high ceilings and four poster bed, and a vast expanse of polished wood floor that I can stretch you out on, or make you kneel before me, your face level with my hips.

I approach, straddle and kiss you, tease you on the outside of your clothes. You hardly notice your shirt coming off. The rope begins to surround you, a simple and beautiful chest harness.  Rough hemp rope presses against your breast bone, giving you a shorteness of breath. Or maybe that's because you are excited. You have lost the use of your hands and arms.You are mine, to do with as I please.

I take you on a journey of sensations through your neck, back, chest and belly. I use your mouth to bathe my torso, then pull you from the couch to the floor using the center decoration of the chest harness as a handle, rubbing against a growing urge in your pelvis, biting your shoulders and lips. I like to see you in this state that is a mixture of arousal and fear. I tell you to lie down on the floor, and being the obedient and well behaved boy that you are, you do so. I removing your pants, freeing you and force you to take the pleasure of my mouth. I stroke and suck, relishing in the sound of your breath, the moans that cannot help but escape your mouth. All your defenses are gone, all your armor. You have only feeling, only sensation.

I guide you, waiting until I am so turned on that I can no longer resist you, but before I ride you, I crawl up your body until my knees are at your ears. I hover over your mouth. I use your tongue, smothering you, making you listen to my gasps and moans. Your face is drips with my essence. I cover you with my body, kissing your mouth, tasting myself mixed with your breath. You struggle against the ropes that bind your broad shoulders, arms and hands, but they are strong bonds and do not move. I tug and twist the ropes, reminding you that I am have the one with the control, not you. As you are a well behaved and obedient boy and not a brat, you relish being relieved of your power.

The flower between my legs is a carnivorous beast. Your mouth was just the appetizer. Now it wants the full meal which is below, long, swollen, waiting. My flower devours you and I ride you slowly, ever so slowly, memorizing every centimeter of this useful thing between your legs. Gradually, I quicken my pace to a nice steady rhythm that matches the thrust of your hips. I overflow, a tsunami of waves racking my body, and force you to release. Your whole body  trembles as I feel you pulse inside me. I reach around, underneath you, freeing your hands. We lie together, me on top of you, you still inside me. I stroke your head, your cheek.

"Good boy," I say. "Good boy."

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Wrote by a wonderful lady, named Storm.
She is at the moment not working as a sexworker