Oral Dilemma: Etched

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 When we last left off with Roxy, she'd just found out that  her fiance' Luke had been killed. This  terrible news came the day her mother was buried, and on the heels of a fallout with her  father. There are times in life that seem overwhelming, like we can't possibly bear another thing. Yet, we go on. Sometimes  it leaves scars, other  times the scars are internal. 
The human condition  leaves us at the mercy of our emotions at times. 

Oral Dilemma: Etched

by

Ellie Mack

Read Part 1 here. 

Read Part 2 here. 

Read Part 3 here.

Read Part 4 here. 

Read part 5 here.  
Read part 6 here.
Read part 7 here.  
Read part 8 here. 
Read part 9 here.
Read part 10 here.  
Read part 11 here.
Read part 12 here 
Read part 13 here

Tara clung to the steering wheel terrified. I hated to do this to her. I wanted to tell her but I could barely manage breath between sobs. I clutched my stomach as I turned to the window, staring blankly out into the night. Trees sped by, I imagined every one to be a part of my life slipping away.

I began seeing bits of my life on each tree. Devon Miller taking Casey Reynolds to a dance. Devon taking Phoebe Yates to the party where I met Chad. Chad using me, lying to me and spreading videos of me doing slutty things that I thought were private. Summers lost in a factory. Training for long hours with Keith. Finding out Chad was cheating on me. Devon leaving for the military. Devon disapproving of my MMA fighting. 

We crossed the river - serene water.  Childhood memories, meeting Luke, training with Luke.

Forested scenery again: Mom. Fight with dad. Dad never there. Luke.

“ Tara, stop the car.” The tears continued but I realized my sister was all I had left in this world and I was being horrible to her.

“ Are you going to be sick?” She asked not turning her head.

“ No, well maybe. Just pull in up here and can you get us a soda or something then we’ll talk.” My lips trembled as I tried to quell the tears. “And get some extra napkins please?”

“ Sure Roxy” She sniffled. It broke my heart even more. While I waited for her to return I thought about what I would say, and how I would say it. Sooner than I expected she was back with two big bags of food and drinks.

She shrugged. “I was hungry”.

“ That’s ok, so am I.” I wasn’t really, but I hadn’t eaten for the past, well it was going on 4 days now. We sat in the car, and ate quietly. Well Tara ate, I picked at mine. I waited until I thought I could begin without crying uncontrollably again.

“Tara, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you back there, for screaming at you the way I did. I know this has been hard for you as well. Losing mom and then the deal with dad and Tammy, well I've been really selfish. You’re all I’ve got now, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“What are you talking about Roxy? You’ve got Luke. At least you have a boyfriend. Tony broke up with me two weeks ago.”

I didn’t know. I hadn’t asked. I didn’t even know his name was Tony. I was a horrible sister. I bit my lip. “I didn’t know sis, I’m sorry.”

I sighed, taking a sip of the soda before I went on.

“No, Luke is gone. His funeral is tomorrow. I know you have classes, so you don’t have to go or anything but.” I had to stop, speaking the words out loud stirred up every raw emotion I felt.

“Oh my God! Roxy.” She leaned over and pulled me into a hug. I couldn’t help it, the sobs began again. Uncontrollable chest heaving sobs that wracked my body. She held me close for a long time and just let me cry it out. When I finally pulled back and wiped my eyes, two guys in a car alongside us were gawking.

By the crude gestures they made to us they thought we were making out or something. Tara rolled down the window and told them to “Fuck off assholes, my sister’s fiancee was just killed you morons.”

I chuckled at her frankness. I thought she was so clean cut and innocent, and it was the first time I’d ever heard her use any profanity. My nose red and swollen, with red puffy eyes I smiled at my sister. “We have each other, we’ll get through this.”

I turned in my seat, and took a bite of my burger. It actually tasted good to me. In no time at all I’d eaten the whole thing and scarfed down the fries. “I know this is terrible, but I could eat another one. I’m starved.”

“Yeah, we haven’t eaten much the past few days, have we?” She scrunched up her burger wrapper and tossed it in the bag. You want me to swing around the drive through and grab you another one?”

“Yes! That would be great. And a chocolate shake.” I licked the greasy salt off my fingers.

We’d get through this. I had to for her and I knew she was there for me.

Tara decided to go with me to the funeral. I’m glad, I’m not sure I could have driven. I sat beside his mother, she reached and held my hand while the minister gave the eulogy. The tears flowed and on my right side, Tara held my other hand, squeezing.

It was a closed casket funeral, I never really got to say goodbye. He was just ripped from my life and gone. His little sister ran up to me at the cemetery and hugged my legs crying. I knelt hugging her close. I was invited to join them for the holidays and I reassured her I’d see her again. We didn’t attend the wake, Tara and I drove back to my apartment. Well, to our apartment, that had been Luke’s apartment.

I walked in, it smelled like Luke. I went to the bed and collapsed on it, curled up as the tears flowed silently clutching his pillow and favorite shirt. At some point I’d removed my dress, and put on his shirt, and then his drawstring shorts. Several days had passed and I woke to the realization that I couldn’t smell him anymore.

I was frantic. I opened the drawer and took out another shirt, it was clean laundry not Luke. I searched until I found his jacket, slipping it on over the tee as I lay back down on the bed. I vaguely recalled Tara bringing me food, or urging me to shower. I didn’t go to class, didn’t go out, didn’t go to the gym. I couldn’t manage to leave that room. 
 There was some part of me that knew that if I did he’d be gone forever, and the rational part of me knew he already was. Grief is a strange bird, it makes you do illogical things.

At one point Tara came in to gather soup bowls, and glasses and stopped. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at me. “Roxy get up off that bed and go shower. You stink. You look like hell and I’m not waiting on you any more. You said we were here for each other and we’d get through. I need you and you’re not here for me. ”

I didn’t care. I did however make my way to the bathroom and tried to pee. I looked down at myself, creases of wrinkly loose skin hung on my frame. I stared into the mirror and what stared back wasn't me. Was it? In those few days I had aged thirty years or more, sagging skin, sunken eyes, matted hair. In those days I had lost myself, my grief consuming me like a living thing,  like a parasite eating my life away. 
 Tara was right, I looked like hell. She was also right in that I wasn’t there for her. I’d been so absorbed in my own grief I’d given up on myself. I no longer cared about myself but I had a reason to go on; to amend the wrongs against my sister. It wasn’t much but it gave me a purpose. 

The Dom's Diary: The Road Home

After reaching the pinnacle, the rollercoaster usually plummets to  the valley careening full steam ahead. What happens after you achieve that goal you've had in your sights? What next?  What now?  
 The next exhilarating twist is bound to leave you breathless!

 

The Dom's Diary:

The Road Home

by

Abyrne Mostyn 

 

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here 

Read part 5 here 
Read part 6 here
Read part 7 here  
Read part 8 here
Read part 9 here
Read part 10 here
Read part 11 here

                The roads had still been busy as I made my way home.  The Windy City seldom slept, even on a weeknight.  I had decided to take the surface streets and just enjoy the drive instead of the highway that would have taken half the time.  I‘d had a lot to ponder.  Cla’vis Tand was only the tip of the iceberg that had burgeoned my brain.  Ren’s parting comment about second chances had brought unbidden thoughts of Maggie screaming to mind.  Until now, she had been the only second chance I had ever wanted.

                It had been years since I’d seen her, though her face had held a permanent page marker in my day to day thoughts ever since.  Fresh faced and new to the scene when we’d met, she was energetic and adventurous.  I had done my best to kid-glove her into the scene, but she had wanted none of it.  Instead, she had elected to play hard and party harder.  I had thought she would burn up and out too soon to be one to try to tame.  She wasn’t interested in what I wanted.  She wanted to be like me.

                I was not then, nor now, a teacher.  I could have directed her toward someone who would have taught her how to be a Domme.  She had been polite but stern in her refusal.  She wanted to do it her way.  I could not short cut the lesson she would face.  Her way looked, then, and now in retrospect, to be the hard way and the lessons would not be kind on the journey she had undertaken.  I was saddened, but it wasn’t my call to make.

                Driving the lake shore, the water crypt tower silhouetted against the risen moon, I couldn’t help but think about yesterdays and the last time I’d noticed the monolithic beast that stood watch over the western shore.  We’d been out near the end of the pier, watching the moon rise, just talking.  She was heavy with emotion that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with decisions gone wrong.  I had been surprised to get her call.  She had been surprised that I had come at her request.

                A jazz trio had been playing in the hall, the doors wide open to catch the lake breezes and save the energy costs, the sounds spilling out across the walk and the water.  Leaning against the far wall, the city behind her was painted with pinks and blues of smog over sunset and had haloed her face.  The look she had worn was nothing angelic.  Someone had broken her.  I didn’t know the details and she wasn’t sharing them, but the story was etched deep in the lines that crisscrossed where once upon a time, I’d known a smile.

                I knew the clubs and dungeon she’d been frequenting, and the clientele.  She’d gone deep fast and hadn’t known when to hit the brakes to avoid the collision.  I’d seen it a thousand times.  There was nothing you could do until it was done.  Yellow lights didn’t mean the same thing to those who would guise their true nature in the name “Dom”.    I felt for her, but I couldn’t feel for her at the same time.  I was not responsible after her refusal to be aided, and now it was all over but for the medic duty.

                We had talked long into the night, standing under the Ferris wheel and sitting on the seawall that marked the end of the pier.  I heard her, but I don’t think she heard me.  She wasn’t looking for advice, just a shoulder to cry.  I could do that, and I did.  Before it was done I got one shot to change her path, I opted for allegory.

                “Life is like a game of chess sweetheart, there are pawns and there is royalty.  At the end of the game the last one standing is usually the Queen.  She’s the one who runs the show.  Even the King, though royalty is her pawn.”

                I turned her face to see me as she was staring at her shoes.  Storm ravaged eyes met mine, blinking rapidly to stay the tears she refused to let fall.  I tried to gentle my next comment knowing it would be the last one I’d get to make.  She was already ready to bolt.

                “Don’t settle for being anyone else’s game piece baby, run your own board.”

                The last I saw of her was the flare of her loose over-shirt trailing behind her as she ran back up the pier toward the city.  I had stood there for an hour, hoping she’d run back.  She never did.

                I don’t know how many times I’d driven the loop and gotten back to the beginning on South Wacker before I caught up to the night I was on instead of one so long past.  Then, Maggie had made me stop and question everything I was and wanted.  Now, Cla’vis was doing the same.  The thrill of admission to the Manse was jaded as I realized it was not for the membership that I had been elated, but for access to see her.   I had subs by the dozen who I could call to come and go at my will.  The idea of driving out of my way to see one woman, a woman who had so easily left me at the door, left me unsettled. 

                Melancholy thoughts had led me to park with the valet at the Sheraton towers and walk to the pier.  Bubba Gump’s was packed as usual with the late starting, emerging bar crowd.  The line for the IMAX was slow but boisterous and the smell of theater popcorn mixed with the spray of the lake hitting the seawall.  I had passed them all by and watched the last of the evening lake boat tours pull away from their stall.  I had stopped halfway through the stained glass museum at the 24-hour McDonald's and got a coffee.  Sleep was a luxury for a less addled mind than mine tonight and not worth the hours of clock-watching to attempt.  I could not put the past in its place, nor the future on my radar. 

                I’d watched the sun come up behind the tower across the crisp morning wakes before I was decided.  My coffee, long gone cold had not been necessary.  I am what I am.  Pulling out my phone as I made my way back to land, I had dialed a sub I favored and pulled a tip and the fee for the valet while I made my arrangements.  I had turned for home with just enough time to shower, change, make it to the El station to catch my train and get to work before the opening bell.  The idea of returning to my routine was sour, and I found I didn’t like that.  I didn’t like it one bit.

The Dom's Diary: Jelly Legs

Teetering on the razor's edge;  I don't think  this is what Occam quite had in mind - that fine line between sanity and divine pleasure - but once over the edge, it's a free fall.

The Dom's Diary: Jelly Legs

by

Abyrne Mostyn

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here 

Read part 5 here 
Read part 6 here
Read part 7 here  
Read part 8 here
Read part 9 here
Read part 10 here

 

It was only with sheer determination that I didn’t blow her head off with the load that sat knotted at the base of my shaft.  She paused after sitting all the way down and the tight glove that held me was nearly enough pressure to finish me.  Where the pearls had been like individual little fingers stroking in unison, this was a completely different sensation.  I wanted to buck and thrust and finish, but her hands on mine at the edge of the table made me try to wait.

She began rocking slowly. ..so slowly.  I nearly wept as I locked my jaw down and willed my release to hold.  Breathing through my nose was not nearly sufficient to get oxygen in, or enough to stay the hard pants that she was cultivating.  It became hard hitching breaths long before she sped up and raced my will as she claimed another orgasm before I let go.  I could not recall ever being dominated by a woman so thoroughly, and I had almost never allowed one to try.

I would love to believe that I had held out longer than I actually managed.  Almost as soon as I felt the trickle of her release coat my balls, I knew I was filling her with my own.  The torment of her earlier play had culminated in a release that left me gasping for air and jerking underneath her long after she stopped pumping.  I saw black and then I saw stars dot across her back as she raised the final time to disengage from me.  I understood why some men passed out to a dead sleep after sex, though I had never done so.  Good fucking was like that.  Take ‘em high, drop ‘em fast, and let them free fall.  What did that say about the sex I’d had up until now?  I didn’t want to think too hard on that.

She had moved off the table and was walking away asking about some Arnica for my stripes as I recovered.  She had loosened my bindings before she walked away and I had to wipe the sheen of perspiration from my face before sitting up.  I could only muster a grunt of affirmation at her offer. 

Shaking my head to knock my brain back online, I got down while she was turned, walking on jelly legs to the table of tools.  I had to chuckle to myself to see the trail of wax flakes that followed her path to the corner where she was again rummaging in her bag.  Her hair was damp to her back.  I was not the only one who had been worked over.

I took a condom from the bowl on the table, knowing you never go back to front without care and slipped it on my still rigid organ as quietly as I could manage.  I grabbed a small crop from the table too before walking over to her.  Fisting one hand in her hair, helping her to her knees with the other, I pushed her head down and to the side before I addressed her.  Her gasp of surprise was cut short by a flick of the crop.

“Danced a little close to that Sadism line, don’t you think?”

She chuckled.

“Close, but did you notice I didn’t cross it?”

“By whose definition darlin’?  Those pearls were quite tight.”

“Do you intend to return my wickedness?”

She was toying with me, and I was mixed minded about it.  She had managed to completely dominate me where others had always failed.  I was however, a Dom by nature, and there was something compulsory about letting her know I would have the last word.  Alternating the crop against her lower cheeks, I knew she was still wet, or wet again.  I could smell her.  The air between us, in what little space there was, was saturated with her.

I dropped the crop when her ass began to faintly glow, grabbing her hip and driving straight with mine.  Her cunt, my cock…no longer space between, I was back where I wanted to be…in control.  The edge of need was long gone after the release earlier as she rode and I now had plenty of time to enjoy the tight friction of her sliding along the ridge.  It was my turn to speed up and slow down in response to her mewling and make her wait. 

Twisting her hair in my hands, I brought her head up off the floor, spanking her open-handed across her ass, forcing her contortion to my will.  She was now the one hitching breath and gasping for air.  She was now the one wearing the goose bumps from dancing the edge that I was hanging her release from.  I knew if I were of a mind to flip her over that the tight bundle of nerves at the cleft of her sex, though untouched at this point, would be an angry, pulsing button that would ignite her release.  I left her on her knees.

Bucking harder once my own release teetered to come forth; she nearly beat me to it, but only ended up a fraction of a breath behind.  Letting go of her hair, I turned her carefully into my lap, shifting to sit once she had stopped quaking in the aftermath and I had pulled free.  Holding her close, we both seemed to take up the cause of aftercare.  She, with the bottle of Arnica she had in her hands when I caught up to her and me flicking the bits of wax from her breasts.  Whoever had clean up duty for this room was likely to be most unhappy with the puddle of wax and herbed oil, not to mention the brushed suede on the tilt.

It was long past full dark when we finally disengaged, dressed, and headed to the lower community room for a nightcap and goodbyes.  Ellis had the drinks on the bar within a second of our crossing into the room and had moved away to the other end of the length of teak.  We barely spoke, but the glances between us shouted.  We were both well satisfied, and would definitely be getting together again.  How much of the future would be sex was anyone’s guess.  I don’t think either of us had any idea.  Domination, hers I would guess, and mine I knew, had never been quite so fully about the actual act of fucking, though there was no denying the extreme pull between us as I could have taken her right there on the bar just thinking about it.

Finishing our drinks, she grabbed her satchel and I her elbow as we walked toward the door.

“Do you intend to direct me here as well Maisu?”

“No Pallaca.  I am a gentleman.  I would see you to your car.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ren has brought it around.”

Looking up, I saw one of the men from the first night that had helped Yessenia from the frame standing near the door with keys in hand.  It seems I was not needed beyond this place, something to think on.

“So I see.  Until next time then darlin’.  I can’t wait to see what else you have in your arsenal.”

“It will be my great pleasure.”

“And also mine.”

With that she had her keys and was out the door and to her car before I reached the steps.  I had to shuffle back before descending and turn as a voice caught me by surprise.  I did not realize Ren had followed us out.

“You must have done something right.  She seldom offers seconds.”

I nodded and turned to leave without another word.  I had much to think about.

Good to know.

The Dom's Diary: Drip, Drip, Drip

Thorne sure seemed to know how to please Cla'vis. After her skill on display with Yessenia, do we think she has what it takes to please him in return? How do you dominate a Dom? Let's find out.

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here 

Read part 5 here 
Read part 6 here
Read part 7 here  
Read part 8 here
Read part 9 here 

Drip, Drip, Drip.
by 
Abyrne Mostyn

                She didn’t speak for a long time, but that could have been her recovering.  I put away the wand and unclasped her ankles before removing the blind and freeing her hands, helping her to sit up.  She spoke after she collected herself and regained somewhat normal breathing.

                “Maisu is an old word.  Like Pallaca means mistress, Maisu means master.”

                I nodded as I took in the meaning of the word she had shouted.  Not the usual ‘Sir’ I heard from my subs, but in some ways a better and more fitting word.  I had to wonder if Maxim had also mastered her or if the term was used from respect by all here.  Naobi had addressed him as Maisu, but had not seemed bothered when Cla’vis also did that first night.  I would be thinking on this another time as her movements caught my attention.  She had gotten off the table before I noticed to help her down. 

In the far corner of the room she was rifling through a bag.  Walking up behind her, I couldn’t see what she was doing, but her ass was calling me.  Reaching out to knead the round globes, she leaned back for a moment before addressing me.

      “You like my ass.”

      “Tell me something you don’t already know.”

      “Let me get a placeholder for you then.”

      I didn’t process the reference until she turned, wicked gleam in her eye, and showed me a jeweled plug.  Stepping back, while I watched, she ran it through and between the still shiny, wet lips of her cunt before turning, bending over and inserting it tight to her backdoor, wiggling a spot in front of me to set it before she stood upright again.  I nearly blew right then, so fucking hot.

     “Am I to understand you want to be fucked there?  Is that the ‘place’ you’re holding for me?”

     “My dear Thorne...”

     “Not Maisu now?”

     Her grin was fireworks bright.

     “Que vous le souhaitez.  My dear Maisu, I believe it is my turn now.  I’ll not tip my hand any more than you tipped yours.”

     Leading me by the hand, we returned to the tilt table.  I watched as she reset the lower end, brought up an extended end to the top and tilted it to stand nearly vertical.  Following her gestures, I was backed up to the table, my arms secured to the sides, ankles to the lower corners and a garrote set about my neck.

     “Anything off limits I should be aware of?”

     She was not mocking, but it was amusing to hear her using my same words.

     “How about we follow the same guidelines you set?”

     I had little compulsion about giving away control or power to her.  I had seen her wield a whip and knew what she could do.  So I thought.  It was the work of a moment before she had tightened the garrote to a shade past snug and gotten her split-9 from where she had laid it down when we entered.

     “Not my cock.”

     “Agreed.  Hard or soft?”

      I couldn’t help but return her words to her.  They were, after all, appropriate.

    “You’ll know when you figure it out won’t you?”

     “Cheeky.”

     Without another word she pulled back and let the eighteen tails fly across my thighs.  The lashes bit and the softer tails seemed to kiss as they fell together, a heady combination.  I had seldom been whipped by another since learning how to throw, and even those times were far, far between.  I enjoyed the release and liberation of the long tail flogging when done by someone who knew how to control the lashes.  She was adept.  Controlling eighteen tails simultaneously, she threw as though it were a single.  I was completely turned on to watch her throw and could feel my cock straining to be worked.  The lashing would take longer than I wanted to wait, but I was not in control, so I leaned back and let her throw. 

     Seeing her with Yessenia from behind had been amazing to watch.  Seeing her, full frontal, throwing at me was nearly enough to have me releasing without her touching me at all.  Mustering every thought I could to reduce the urgent need, I could feel the drip, drip, drip of perspiration falling from my face after beading up from the effort.  Closing my eyes, I split my focus to feel and to stop feeling at the same time.  If she had plans for more, I was going to be fully present for all of them.

     “Hold the sides.”

     I opened my eyes at her words.  She was standing next to the table and I heard the hiss of the hydraulic as the head was lowered, the feet were raised, and I was laid flat.  She loosened the garrote but not my wrists, though I didn’t need to hold on anymore now that the change was done.  I didn’t know how much time had passed, but judging by the red stripes that remained, she’d thrown a good while.  It was a pleasure pain, and I welcomed it, groaning appreciatively at the evidence of her skill.  She had gone above, below, and completely around my cock without a stray stripe.

     The next that I saw her, she had climbed up the foot of the table and was kneeling between my knees, a long string of pearls dangling from her hand.  I had seen her in a pearl thong the first night.  Beautiful.  I wondered if she was going to wear or insert this strand to tease me, and I said so.

     “Putting on your best pearls for me Pallaca?”

     She laughed.

     “No Maisu, you’re going to wear them for me.”

     I must have shown my shock at her words.  Her face was the morning sun on the windshield and mischievous as I’d ever seen it.  With much ado, pomp and circumstance, I watched her drop the bottom loop under my scrotum and begin crisscrossing it up my cock, coiling it over and onto itself to the tip, and back down to where it began.  With a Cheshire grin, she leaned down and began a slow suction of the head.  It was bliss.  It was agony.  I wanted more.

     She lingered for a long while, letting pre-cum and saliva roll down the beads to the base.  When she seemed to be satisfied, she opened her mouth and dropped wholly over it, closing her lips with a lick at the bottom.  I think my eyes rolled back into my head.  The sensations of suction and the wet rolling of the individual pearls along with her tongue was hedonism. 

     She laved her tongue against the wet beads and swallowed.  The pressure of the action was tight misery and euphoria all together.  I know I moaned.  I couldn’t help it.  Swallowing again, she paused before beginning a long slow stroking with her mouth up and down the pearls, keeping a choke hold on the base and my balls.  I was going to go nuclear when she set them free, I could feel them tightening up already though I didn’t think they could wind up any harder.

     It was all I could do not to thrust.  I had started to, but as soon as I did, she stopped.  Lying still was agonizing.  I wanted to cum.  I wanted to fuck her mouth encased in the pearls just the way she had it.  She was a master.  I could only try to hold still and pant, completely at her mercy.  She sped up and she slowed down, all in reaction to me.  She played me like a Stratavarius, and I would have sang too if she had asked. 

The last time she sped up, I thought she was going to let me cum.  She wasn’t.  She took me straight to the edge and danced me there in the wind until the precipice began to slip away, the growl building in my gut.  Then, she stopped.   Opening wide, she dropped the whole of my shaft, still standing tall, out into the cool air of the room.  It was nearly painful to be out of her warm, wet mouth.  Taking up the tail end of the strand from the base, twisting it over itself in her fingers, I could only watch as she tightened the strand and shut down my ability to satisfy the lingering, urgent need to release. 

     Shifting her weight from one knee to the other as she moved up to straddle my hips, I again could only watch as she twisted the strand and tightened it down further just before she lanced herself through with one slick stroke and buried my cock balls deep.  When seated fully she rocked a slow, languorous rhythm back and forth, up and down.  I watched the tears of perspiration dot her flesh, then commune to trail and sluice the valley of her breasts before falling off.  I felt the sting of the salt in the still raw stripes from her lashes.  Her mouth hung open and her pants seemed to echo a second behind my own, mine on the down stroke, hers on the up. 

     It was a brutal tease.  Each time I got to the edge and ready to cum, she tightened the strand and hovered at the top of the stroke staying the release at the base of my shaft by keeping a vise grip to my balls with the long strand, leaving no doubt, she was controlling the ride.  I lost track of how many times I'd surrendered my release to her ministrations.  She was a wicked task master.  Twisting twice on the strand, I watched in near agony as she bucked and came wildly, my own release shut down.  I felt the knot start north and stop abruptly at the ring of pearls she held fisted while she rode, my whole body tied up in those little ominous beads.

     I had begun to believe I wasn't going to get to cum at all.  Just about then, with slow deliberation she raised a final time, unwinding the pearls, lifting them away as she stood and dismounted slowly, taking care to remove the lowest loop before she set them aside.  Each roll unwinding was an agony, but I was determined not to cum until I was once again inside her.  It was a battle of wills I had to win.

     Her smile was conspiratorial as she stepped back a step to straddle closer to my hips, and turned around.  With purposeful movements, she bent slightly giving me full view of the saturated, swollen center of her.  She reached back and slid the jeweled plug free, bending all the way over to set it on the table between my feet.  I watched in wanting torment as she slid two fingers between her lips, dipped into her weeping core, and pulled them free with the remnants of her release. I watched her reach back and slowly lube the vacancy left by the plug with what was on her fingers.  In and out she worked the cream and as she worked   I watched more cream wet and trickle between her legs.

     I was ready to beg.  I wanted to pull her down and have her ride my face.  She had other plans.  As I watched, she sank to her knees, then reached back and grabbed my cock.  She leaned back just enough to seat the crown at her now wet and ready anus before torturing me slowly…sitting down completely in agonizing slow motion, reverse cow-girling me with her ass.  I heard my growling moan as it echoed back.

     “Fuuuuck.”

     She tipped her head back just enough to make eye contact, her hair pooling across my chest.  I didn’t need to see her entire face to know she wore a wicked smile.  Her eyes said everything.

     “Yes Maisu.  I plan to.”