Sex stories

Erotic fiction and short sex stories




Magnolia's Lover

My mother always figured I'd settle down with a man before I was 23. Stability was important, she always told me. Everybody needs someone to look after them when they're young. I agreed with that part, but I never found a man who lasted more than a week with me. Instead, I found Magnolia Hayes.

I'd applied for a job waiting tables at Magnolia's, a café in a sleepy corner of Mississippi, just a few weeks after I'd made it to the end of my four years studying Chemistry at Ole Miss. I told myself I'd be fine sleeping in my car until I made enough to pay for an apartment; I never counted on finding a job and a home all at once. I didn't count on a lot of things, where Magnolia was concerned; she's always had a knack for catching people off guard, I guess.

It took a week of waiting tables in the place before Magnolia found the sleeping bag in my car. She offered me a room in her house free of charge, and she's never asked me for a dime since then. At the time, I'd take any place with a roof and doors; I didn't know that her house was the biggest in the county. I didn't know much about her..."reputation", either.

By now, I've spent a year sleeping in her spare bedroom at night, waiting tables and mopping floors in her restaurant by day.

When I started as a server at Magnolia's, I thought it was just a cutesy name. I never thought it was named after the woman who'd owned it for fifteen years. Then again, nobody ever calls her "Magnolia" to her face. To me—and everyone else she deigns to speak to—she's just "Miss Maggie".

She's a few years past 30 by now, but she's aged more gracefully than any woman I've ever met. She's got expensive tastes in clothes, liquor and literature, with the bank account to back it up. Magnolia's has the most famous menu in a fifteen-mile radius; there are no slow days at Magnolia's.

And then there are the men. Can't forget them.

Miss Maggie and I don't have much in common, but neither of us has ever stuck to a relationship for longer than a week. Shyness has always been my excuse; Miss Maggie just gets bored easily. She knows that every one of her lovers is replaceable, and she makes sure that they know it too.

No man turns down an invitation to Miss Maggie's house, but nobody ever spends longer than a night as her guest. And for those golden twenty-four hours, men obey her every command. Those are her rules, and Miss Maggie takes her rules seriously.

Tonight, it's one of those rare occasions when she and I have the same night off. I'm walking back to my room with a magazine in hand, planning on a slow night indoors, when Miss Maggie's voice stops me.

"Staying out of trouble, Kara?" she asks playfully, from inside her bedroom.

I look in, and see her sitting back on an armchair in her room, a battered copy of The Brothers Karamazov in her hand.

Just like every night, her hair is an elegant pile of midnight-black curls, styled into a bun and held in place by lacquered sticks patterned with flowers. She raises one eyebrow, as if daring me to give a snarky response.

"Doesn't seem like there's much trouble around here..." I say lazily, walking into her bedroom.

It seems like an innocent enough thing to say, but she keeps at it.

"You're a pretty girl, Kara," Miss Maggie says. "Seems like a shame that you spend so many nights alone."

"We can't all be like you, Miss Maggie," I say.

After two years of sleeping under her roof, I still call her "Miss Maggie," even when I'm not on the job. It's an impossible habit to break.

"Like me?" Miss Maggie repeats innocently. "What do you mean by that?"

One corner of her mouth twitches, in just the vaguest hint of a grin.

Fucking men senseless by candlelight every week, I want to say.

Making grown men stutter like they've just hit puberty, I wish I could say.

But I don't.

"Well... You do bring a lot of men around the house..." I say timidly.

"I'm a good hostess," Miss Maggie says. "Nothing naughty about that."

"But..." I begin, and immediately cut myself off. I know that Miss Maggie does more than just entertain, but I don't dare disagree with her.

To my surprise, her grin widens.

"Oh?" she queries. "You don't believe me? What do you think I do with my boys?"

My boys. Something about the possessive quality in her tone raises goosebumps on the back of my neck. She sounds like she hangs men's souls around her neck like trophies, stringing them like so many lustrous pearls.

"Well..." I say, faltering again.

She chuckles mischievously.

"You sound like you've wondered before, girl. Have you? What kind of dirty thoughts have been keeping you awake at night?" she asks.

I can tell that she's joking, but the remark is truer than she knows. Since I've moved here, I've heard the sound of men's screams from behind Miss Maggie's bedroom door at least once every month. No matter how tired I might be, I can never will myself to sleep after I hear that sound. Sometimes I hear quivering moans of pleasure, and I know that one of her lovers has hit his climax; other nights, I hear rhythmic yelps of pain, and I imagine her dark-eyed, strong-armed lovers being spanked and whipped at a fast clip. Once or twice, I've gotten bold enough to touch myself while I listen, though I've never dared try for a closer look.

I wish I could just drop the subject. I really do. I don't want Miss Maggie to think I'm obsessed. As sweet as that woman is, I know that she loves her power games; I don't dare let her know how badly I want something that I can't get myself.

Then Miss Maggie speaks five words that I never thought she'd say.

"Do you want to know?" she asks, leaving forward.

Keep it together, Kara. I tell myself. If she can play coy, so can you.

"Do you want to tell me?" I ask, doing my best to keep my voice level.

Miss Maggie leans back in her chair and gets comfy. With a sweet smile on her face, she thinks it over.

"You know Danny Fenwick, the banker from New Jersey?" she asks me.

Before yesterday, I'd never had any reason to hear the name. Tonight, though, I know his face well enough to recall it on command—well-tanned, with slim cheekbones and silver cheekbones the color of a polished coin. I'd spent yesterday afternoon waiting on his table at the café after he'd scheduled a lunch date with Miss Maggie.

I nod, and Miss Maggie continues.

"I met him over in Atlanta a few months ago. He was there for a convention, and I was catering. We met in the hotel ballroom, after I'd had a chance to break out my best evening dress. The strapless black one. You know the one I mean, right?"

I do. I've seen her wearing it just three times, but every time I can't help but stare as she passes. Involuntarily, I think of sweat trickling into her ample cleavage on a hot day, of the pendulum-like motions of her slender hourglass hips under gleaming black silk.

"Anyway..." Miss Maggie says, "One thing let to another, like it always does. I took him back to my hotel room, we had a few drinks...and then I showed him the handcuffs that I tucked into my suitcase."

I feel my breath quickening, oh so slightly.

Handcuffs? For all her old-school Southern charms, I've always suspected that Miss Maggie has a taste for the rough stuff, but I've never dreamed that she'd admit it so blatantly.

"Every girl's got a type," Miss Maggie says, smirking confidently. "I like a man who ain't afraid to leave himself at a woman's mercy. It shows trust. And it's the most intimate thing in the world that you can do."

"What is?" I ask eagerly.

I don't catch myself until after the words have left my mouth. Stupid. I should never let myself sound so curious. Miss Maggie will torture me for weeks with her little verbal striptease if she knows I'm that eager to learn.

But then she flashes her most wicked smile, her apple-red lips curving slowly.

"Dominating a man," she says matter-of-factly. "Testing his limits. Cuffing him to the bed-posts, naked as the day he was born, with a ring around his cock and a blindfold over his eyes. And just seein' how long he'll last until he begs you to stop."

I shouldn't be enjoying this. I shouldn't be enjoying this.

But oh God, as soon as those words leave her mouth, I feel myself growing warm under my white Fruit-of-the-Loom panties, my arms tingling as goosebumps form.

"Danny Fenwick let you beat his ass?" I ask back, doing my best to sound amused. "Was he your first one?"

"Not by a long shot," Miss Maggie says mischievously. "And I did more than just 'beat his ass,' girl. A hell of a lot more than that. Any bitch with a strong back can swing a whip, and any man worth his weight in spit can take it for at least an hour. But I've got tastes more complicated than that. No... I'm more interested in some of the finer points of torture."

"Torture." I know I should be scared at the sound of that word. But somehow, Miss Maggie makes it sound like a fine wine or an elegant dance. I feel a chill run up the base of my spine and into my fingertips.

I can't take it any longer. I have to bite the bullet and ask her.

"What did you do to him?" I ask, feeling a tremor of excitement in my voice.

Miss Maggie leans back in her chair and bites her lower lip coquettishly.

"I could tell you," she begins, "but how could I do it justice with words? You really had to be there."

I feel my heart sink a bit, until I see Miss Maggie's eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Then again...I could always show you," she says.

"Show me?" I ask.

"Sure," Miss Maggie says. "I told Danny to be here at eight for our little follow-up date. We haven't met privately like this in about two months. I know he's eager to see me—and my boys are always punctual. They don't dare come late."

"So?" I ask. I hope I sound nonchalant, though I can feel my heart knocking against my ribcage.

Miss Maggie leans in close, with an almost predatory gleam in her eye. Then she asks me the one question that I never thought I'd hear.

"Do you want to watch?" she asks.

I choose my words carefully. If I sound too eager, she'll know to take her sweet time making me wait. If I sound too bored, she might take it as an insult. Miss Maggie's a sweet woman, but she's got a hell of a prideful streak. You don't go from waiting tables to owning restaurants without getting a little bit of an ego along the way.

"How?" I ask, honestly expressing my curiosity.

Does Danny really like to be watched? Would he really let a complete stranger in the room to watch him endure Miss Maggie's little intimate rituals? Hell, maybe he'll do anything if Miss Maggie tells him to. Does her domination really run that deep?

Miss Maggie's smirk deepens.

"You're interested, I take it?" she asks.

Damn. Sometimes, I swear Miss Maggie can read minds.

"Uh..." I stutter.

"It's way too late to say 'No,' Kara," Miss Maggie says smugly. "You could say it if you wanted to, but we both know it wouldn't be true. And you wouldn't lie to my face. Would you, girl?"

She knows. There's no use denying me now. So instead I say exactly what's on my mind.

"Show me," I say faintly.

Miss Maggie looks at her watch.

"Danny's here in fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty, if he gets lost along the way. We've got plenty of time to get ready before then," she says.

"What do we need to do?" I ask, still baffled.

"We don't need to do anything," Miss Maggie says sharply. "You need to do everything I tell you to do. You got that, honey?"

Her stern tone catches me off guard. A minute ago, she was all coy grins and flirtatious giggles. But now she knows I'm eager for a peek at her little games, and she knows that I'll bend whichever way she wants me to.

"Yes," I say softly, playing along.

"Yes, what?" Miss Maggie asks pointedly.

"Yes, Miss Maggie," I respond.

"I'm a businesswoman, Kara," Miss Maggie says. "I've owned and managed my own place for fifteen years, and unless God strikes me down before then, I'll keep it running for another twenty. I've kept it going that long because I've got a shrewd eye for deals, and I understand cost. In my world, you don't get anything for nothing. If you want something, you've gotta give something up. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss Maggie," I say, nodding obediently.

"You want to see what I've got in store for Danny? Of course you do—you're a sweet rosy-cheeked little girl who spends every Friday evening scrubbing dishes and busing tables, and you want a glimpse at all those dirty little bedroom games that you're too scared to try yourself. There ain't nothin' wrong with that, so don't go feeling ashamed. But if you want to see, you've gotta take a little bit of my wickedness firsthand. Can you do that?"

I can feel my mind swimming, making me lightheaded.

How the hell should I know? What the hell is she going to do to me?

"Don't bother to answer," Miss Maggie says, cutting me off. "There's only one way to know if you can take it or not. You've gotta throw yourself right into it."

"What do you want me to do?" I ask.

Miss Maggie smiles cruelly, her eyes sparkling.

"There we go," she says. "That's the kind of question I like to hear."

She stands up, arms akimbo, and slides her chair a few feet across the floor so that it faces the television directly. Then she points to it.

"Sit your pretty little butt right there, girl," Miss Maggie orders.

I walk awkwardly across the room, position myself in front of the chair, and sit down without looking around. My hands hang limply by my sides.

I won't show fear. I won't show hesitation. I won't even look at Miss Maggie unless she orders me to.

"Put your hands behind your back, close together," Miss Maggie orders.

I know what's coming now, but I don't dare think about it.

She makes me wait, wrists pressed together, while she walks behind me and rummages around in a drawer. The sound of her heels sounds out hollowly against the wooden floor like a droning heartbeat. When I hear it grow louder, I know she's walking towards me. Still, I keep my eyes glued to the wall in front of me, where her blank flat-screen TV is bolted to the wall.

I feel her warm breath caressing my right ear as she bends down close to me, and it raises goosebumps all the way down to the small of my back. Then I feel some rough material winding around my wrists, binding them tight.

"Feel that? That's rope," Miss Maggie says.

If she wants to watch me squirm in anticipation, I won't give her that. Still, I feel a little tingle at the base of my spine. It only gets stronger when I feel Miss Maggie pulling the ropes tight, looping the ropes through the wooden slats at the back of the chair as she knots them.

"Now try to move your hands," Miss Maggie orders.

I do as she says, but it's no use. The ropes bite into my hands as I try to pull them apart, and I find my hands bound fast to the chair when I try to move them upward.

I hear Miss Maggie chuckle with satisfaction.

"Beautiful knots," she says absentmindedly. "Wish you could see 'em, honey. I've been working on my technique for years now. My mama always wanted me to take up knitting, but knot-tying always suited me better."

I hear her footsteps against the floorboards again as she walks over to my side. Then she kneels down on the floor, and I feel her fingers on my ankle.

"Almost ready," Miss Maggie says. "Just keep your feet still."

I feel her looping the ropes around my left ankle, then my right, binding my feet to the chair legs as she pulls the knots tight.

"Feel like trying to stand up?" she taunts.

I know what's coming, but I don't dare deny Miss Maggie her fun. I try to lift myself into a standing position, but my ass stays planted firm to the chair, my thigh muscles straining futilely against the tied knots.

Then she saunters back in front of me, grinning evilly as she looks me over. I walked into this room as her houseguest—but now I'm a helpless prisoner, and we both know it.

"Makes your heart pound, doesn't it?" Miss Maggie asks. "I ain't never let anyone do it to me, but my boys just go all jittery when the ropes come out. There's nothing like it."

She puts a thoughtful finger to her cheek, as if contemplating my fate. Will she be merciful, or will she draw out my torture until the night ends?

"One last thing," she says mischievously.

She gets down on one knee and leans in close to me, running her hands up my exposed thighs, her fingers inching closer to my crotch. With her fingers steady, she methodically unbuttons my shorts and pulls the zipper down. Slowly, very slowly, she pulls my shorts down—underwear and all—to my tied-up ankles, leaving my pussy vulnerable and exposed.

Natural modesty kicking in, I try to reach for my panties to cover myself, but I know it's no use.

I breathe deep and close my eyes, and I feel Magnolia's hands working their way up my midsection, unbuttoning my shirt.

Christ... I think, silently chastising myself. Why didn't I think to wear a bra today?

Magnolia keeps unbuttoning my shirt. Before long, she reaches my breasts, and realizes what I'd hoped she wouldn't.

"Naughty girl," she says disapprovingly, as she finds my breasts bare and quivering. "At least I won't have to strip you down myself."

With my shirt hanging open and limp on my body, I feel her hands savoring my breasts, softly squeezing them and circling the nipples with her fingers. I know I can't fight her, so I throw my head back and give a long sigh, surrendering.

"If you were one of my boys, I'd be breaking you in with the whip right about now. But you're a sweet girl. I think you need a more delicate touch," she says, moving her hand down to the space between my legs.

My eyes open with a start, and I look down at her. She looks back at me, a predatory look in her eyes.

"Besides," she says, "This is your first time in the ropes. I figure I oughtta make it special."

With a mischievous wink, she slides two fingers down into my pussy and starts to tickle my clit playfully. My sighs give way to moans as I feel myself growing wetter. As I shut my eyes tight, she withdraws her fingers from my crotch, and brushes her hand across my lips. When I open my mouth in a cry of pleasure, she sticks her fingers into my mouth.

Sucking on her fingers like slender fruits, I taste my own moistness, slick and musky and raw.

She keeps her fingers in my mouth as I feel her lowering her head down to my crotch, her lips brushing my labia with soft kisses.

It shouldn't be like this, I think, silently panicking.

Ever since puberty, I've dreamed about my first time making love to a woman. None of my fantasies have ever begun like this.

It should be somebody my own age, not my boss and my landlady...

I should be cuddling with my lover on a soft couch, not bound to a wooden chair...

At the very least, I want to see her naked first...

But then I feel Miss Maggie's tongue massaging my clit and licking the walls of my moist pussy, and I don't care anymore.

Waves of pleasure crash over me, each one blending seamlessly into the next.

After a while, I lose track of her other hand. First I feel it pinching my nipples, then stroking my thighs, then raking my exposed stomach with sharp nails. After that, everything else is eclipsed by that expanding ball of warmth in the center of my pelvis.

I'm in heaven. I can bask in this feeling forever.

And then...it's over? No. Bullshit. It's not fair.

I wait for my climax, but it doesn't come. Miss Maggie pulls her head back from by pussy and stares up at me with a wicked grin on her face, silencing my protests with an index finger on her lips.
"Nope. Not yet," Miss Maggie says. "All good things to those who wait, darlin'. That was just an appetizer. Next, you get the main course. If you behave yourself, maybe I'll let you have your dessert."

At that last word—"dessert"—she gives my exposed clitoris a soft stroke, and I know exactly what she means.

"B-but—" I begin, but I cut myself off.

Miss Maggie raises an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't be arguing with me, by any chance, would you?" she asks, crossing her arms.

My heart flutters. I shake my head.

"Good. Now mind your manners, and I'll give you a show you'll never forget."

She turns around and faces the flat-screen TV, then picks up a remote control from the table in front of it, where it sits between two stacks of old issues of Cosmopolitan and Saveur.

With a press of one button, she turns the TV on. With another, she keys in an "Input" command, and I suddenly find myself looking at a familiar room on the screen. It's Miss Maggie's living room, filmed at a perfect wide angle that shows off the door, the entryway, and the sofa and armchairs beyond it.

At the top-left corner of the screen, I see the time and date listed in plain white font, with the numbers climbing higher and resetting as the seconds tick by. With dawning amazement, I realize what I'm seeing...

"You—you've got a camera set up in your living room?" I ask Miss Maggie incredulously.

Miss Maggie chuckles.

"Darlin', I've got cameras in every room of this house. Each one's smaller than an egg. You'll never find 'em unless you know where to look. Don't you worry, though. I don't spy on you. After I have 'playtime' with my boys, though... Well, sometimes I like to relive the best moments."

Suddenly, I hear the doorbell ring. I can hear it from downstairs, but I also hear the sound coming through the speakers on the TV, clear as day.

She's got microphones too... I think. Is this whole damn house her personal porn studio?

"That'll be Danny," Miss Maggie says, her voice bubbly with excitement. "And right on time, too..."

Miss Maggie leans in close to the mirror, checking her hair and her lipstick, then adjusting her breasts and twirling around to check out her ass.

"Better than mortal man deserves," she says. "It'll have to do for tonight. Wish me luck, girl."

She heads out the door and down the stairwell. On the TV screen, I see her walking down to the front door to open it.

Flashing a sheepish smile, Danny Fenwick walks in—a well-tanned man, around Miss Maggie's age, with silver-fox hair and a tailored suit of the same color.

"Danny..." Miss Maggie greets him, in her most syrupy voice. "Give me a kiss, darlin'."

She points to her left cheek. Danny obeys without question and leans over to place a peck on her cheek.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Danny murmurs.

"Oh, I think I might," Miss Maggie says, as cocksure as ever. "Now stand over there. I want to get a good look at you."

Danny steps back from Miss Maggie and goes to stand by her living room sofa, standing with his back ramrod-straight.

Miss Maggie looks him up and down with gloating satisfaction, but then puts a hand to her mouth and giggles.

"It's ironic, ain't it? You must have spent at least an hour in front of the mirror getting all dressed up. Had to look your best for Miss Maggie, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's right. Only the best for you," Danny says earnestly.

Miss Maggie laughs again. She walks up to Danny and drags one soft hand across his cheek. Danny stands still.

"That's awful sweet, darlin'. But you must have known you weren't gonna keep that suit on very long."

Danny avoids her gaze, his eyes fixed straight on the wall ahead of him.

"I love it when my boys come over to play. But there's just one hard choice I always have to make," Miss Maggie says.

She leans in close to Danny as she says that. I can see Danny trembling as he senses her presence, but he doesn't dare try to touch her. Not without permission.

"I know I've gotta have you naked first, but how do I do it? Do I cuff you to the bedposts and just strip you down, piece by piece? That'd be awful fun. Like unwrapping a Christmas present."

I can't help imagining that: watching Danny tied to the bedposts, helpless as Miss Maggie peels his clothes off, savoring every sweet moment of his humiliation.

Then Magnolia steps back a few paces and puts a finger to her cheek.

"Then again...you could just strip down for me, right here and right now," she says. "I bet you've never been naked in a lady's living room before."

I see Danny's throat quiver as he gulps nervously.

"Don't be shy honey," Miss Maggie says playfully. "There's nobody watching. Nobody but me."

My heartbeat speeds up as soon as she says that. She knows I'm watching, and that makes it so much more fun for her.

"No need to be modest, Danny," Miss Maggie teases. "It's all part of being one of my boys: you don't get to keep secrets from me. And a man has an awful hard time keeping secrets when he's bare-ass naked in a lady's presence."

One of my boys. There's that phrase again. Danny must know that he's not Miss Maggie's only plaything, but he doesn't care.

"I've been thinking about this night for an awful long time, Danny," Miss Maggie says with relish. "Why don't you get those clothes off? I don't think I can wait any longer."

Slowly, hesitantly, Danny raises his hands to the lapels of his jacket and moves to take it off. Miss Maggie chuckles, sensing his modesty.

"Go on, honey. Don't dawdle. You need to get used to following orders. You do want to make me happy, don't you?"

"Yes, Miss Maggie," Danny says instinctively.

"Then follow this one: Strip. Now."

He lets his jacket fall to the floor, then loosens his tie and lets it slip off of his neck. One button at a time, he unbuttons his shirt and lets it hang loose on his shoulders, then lets it fall to the floor.

I can see his fingers shaking with each step. Whatever he might have let Miss Maggie do to him in that Memphis hotel, this is farther than he's ever gone with her: stripped naked in the middle of her elegant parlor, in that white-pillared house hung with Spanish moss, where everyone plays by her rules. There's no going back now, and he knows it.

I see Danny's chest heaving with heavy breaths as he unbuckles his belt and lets it fall to the floor. Then he unbuttons his gray pleated slacks and lets them drop, leaving him standing before Miss Maggie in nothing but a too-tight pair of white briefs. His erection is impossible to ignore.

Miss Maggie taps her foot impatiently as she looks him over.

"Well?" she asks pointedly.

She sounds irritated, like a schoolmistress waiting for a late assignment.

Danny bows his head, takes a deep breath, and slides a finger into the waistband of his underwear. Slowly, just an inch at a time, he slides them down his crotch and lets them fall to his legs, then gingerly steps out of them. His erection instantly snaps to life, eager for Miss Maggie's cruel caress.

Like a series of snapshots, I take in his nude body all at once: the thin crest of steel-gray hair on his firm chest, his slim calves, his slender neck, his toned bottom, and his twitching penis with its blue-veined shaft and reddening head. With his clothes off, he almost seems to shrink under Miss Maggie's long shadow.

With her back to the screen, I can't see Miss Maggie's triumphant smirk—but I can sure as hell imagine it.

"Good boy," Miss Maggie says. "I think you're ready now."

It's too much. My eyes drink in Danny's naked body, and my ears savor Miss Maggie's honey-sweet voice as she savors the sweet moment of his submission. Slowly, very slowly, I can feel my pussy moistening and growing warm. I can't help but fight against my bonds, eager to stroke the space between my legs.

"Get on your knees, Danny," I hear Miss Maggie order.

I focus on every syllable that she utters. If I think about nothing but Miss Maggie's voice, I can't possibly think about those cruel ropes holding me fast to the chair.

Danny obeys, kneeling to the ground amid his discarded clothes, and Miss Maggie tiptoes towards him.

"Hand me that necktie," she orders.

Danny hesitates for a moment, but he picks up his necktie and holds it up to Miss Maggie. It's a twisted image, like a nervous groom offering a wedding ring to his sweetheart.

Miss Maggie takes his necktie and walks around Danny, but his eyes stay fixed straight ahead of him.

"Stay right there. Don't you dare move," Miss Maggie orders, as she teasingly pats Danny's naked shoulder.

With one quick movement, she wraps the necktie around Danny's eyes and ties it in one tight knot, blindfolding him. When that's done, she strides over to a decorative box on her coffee table, opens it up, and pulls out some small object that I can't quite see.

Danny's dead to rights. Anything can happen now.

She returns to Danny's side and raises the object to his neck, and I finally see it clearly. It's a black leather collar with a buckle.

Smoothly, like a well-practiced ritual, she slips it around Danny's neck and tightens it with one quick pull. I can see Danny give a brief little gasp as he feels the leather against his skin, but he doesn't protest.

It's an oddly comical image, seeing a man wearing nothing but a collar and a blindfold to hide his nakedness. But I can't ignore that warm wetness between my legs.

"Tell me, honey... When was the last time you came?" Miss Maggie asks.

"Came where?"

Miss Maggie groans, then gives him a hard slap on the cheek.

"Don't be a wiseass. You know what I mean: when was the last time you oozed a hot load out of that cute little cock of yours?"

"The last time you gave me permission, ma'am," Danny responds obediently.

"I know that, Danny. I know you wouldn't dare come otherwise. But tell me: how long has it been? I know you must have been counting the days."

"It's been sixty-one days, ma'am."

"You're right, it has. And ninety-three days since the last time I saw you in person. You remember the last time I let you cum, don't you?"

"Of course, ma'am."

"Tell me about it again."

"You called me at about 11 o'clock on a Saturday night. I was alone in my apartment, and you told me you were taking a bath. I could hear the water sloshing over the phone."

"That's right, honey. I was butt naked, but you couldn't see me. And?"

"And... Uh... And you told me to strip naked for you, so I did. And you told me to kneel for you, so I did."

"You gotta pay your respects to your mistress, honey. And you did. Like a good boy. What else?"

"You wanted me to... To flatter you. So I called you 'Goddess.' I told you I'd kiss your feet, slather your naked flesh with perfume and... and towel you off after every bath."

"You were always a sweetheart, Danny. But that wasn't what did it. I got real hot and bothered when you started to beg me for the right to cum. I always love it when my boys beg, don't I?"

"Yes, ma'am. I know you do."

"And then I let you cum. I remember hearing you moan over the phone."

"Yes ma'am. I moaned just for you."

"That's right. And if you're a good boy tonight, I just might let you do it again."

Then she turns and stares right at the camera, and I feel my heart flutter. Danny doesn't know it, but she's looking right at me.

Her little story wasn't just for Danny's humiliation, I realize. She knew I was listening the whole time, and she knew I was hanging on every word. She's not just out to torture Danny tonight, she's out to show me what she's capable of. I'm not just a witness to her little power games, I'm a victim too.

She winks at me, and then reaches one dainty hand down between her legs, under the hem of her polka-dotted sundress. I can see her wrists wriggling as she slides her fingers into the elastic band of her panties. Then she gives her hips a playful little wiggle and pulls her panties off. She keeps her dress down, denying me a peek at her bush, but then she holds her panties up towards the camera and dangles them from her index finger, taunting me.

They're black, covered in lacy frills, and at least a size too small for Miss Maggie's ample bottom. Danny can't see them; only I know what she's done.

She drops her panties to the ground, pulls Danny to his feet, and puts a hand to his shoulder.

"Walk," she orders curtly. "We're going to the guest room. I'll lead you."

As she leads him towards the stairwell, she takes a moment to snatch up a remote control from the coffee table, and pushes a button.

Suddenly, the screen goes blank for a good thirty seconds. When it flips on again, I see camera footage from another room, the same time-stamp in the corner. Now it's Miss Maggie's guest room. There's a handsome chest of drawers of polished walnut wood, and a neatly made bed big enough for two.

Danny's on his knees again, with Miss Maggie standing two feet from him.

"Stand up, boy," she says.

Danny obeys. He gets to his feet, his body visibly quivering with anticipation. Once again, I drink in the full sight of his naked body as he stands at attention for his mistress' amusement. Though his eyes are blindfolded, he knows that Miss Maggie is near. I see his rigid cock bobbing up and down like a living thing.

If my hands were free, I'd stroke my clit. Since they're not, I content myself with enjoying the show.

"Now turn around," Miss Maggie orders.

Danny does, and I get another peek at his firm, toned buttocks as he stands there at Miss Maggie's mercy.

He braces as Miss Maggie gives his bare ass a playful slap, and I find myself wishing I could do the same. What would it feel like, stroking his rock-hard muscles and feeling goosebumps form? Or binding him to a post and spanking his firm ass until he whimpers? Or oiling up my hands and stroking his cock until he moans and begs for an orgasm?

But Miss Maggie does none of that. Instead, she bends over a cabinet and pulls out a shiny pair of handcuffs. With Danny standing obediently at the ready, she walks over to him.

"Hands behind your back," she orders sharply.

Danny obeys, and she slaps the cuffs on his hands, locking them with a sharp click of metal.

"Turn around," she orders again, prompting him with a touch on the arm.

Danny does. His cock is stiff as an iron bar now. He must have a thing for the feel of handcuffs, I figure.

"Now stay right there. Understand?" Miss Maggie asks.

"Yes, Mistress," Danny says breathily.

Miss Maggie rolls her eyes as she walks over to her bed.

"This ain't no S&M joint, Danny. When a lady invites you into her home, you call her 'Ma'am.' So it's 'Ma'am,' understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he says.

I can see his erection growing whenever Miss Maggie speaks to him. How long has he been fantasizing about the sound of her voice?

Then Miss Maggie lazily flops down on her bed. The pillows are piled high behind her neck, giving her a perfect angle to prop up her head and enjoy the sight of Danny's naked body. She looks like a sultan's wife lounging on her divan.

She turns to the camera and smiles cruelly, and I know that the smile's meant for me.

About five feet away from the bed, Danny stands at attention like a Grecian statue, just close enough for Miss Maggie to look him over at her leisure. But for now, she ignores him. Instead, she reaches over to her bedside table and grabs up an elegant fluted glass bottle with a round glass stopper. It's filled to the top with some amber-colored liquid.

Lazily, like she's got all the time in the world, she pops off the stopper and takes the bottle in her hand, trickling out a small dollop onto her hands and rubbing them together. Then I see her fingers shining with an oily sheen, and I immediately recognize the liquid. It's massage oil.

Smiling with contentment, she lets down the left shoulder strap of her sundress and pulls her dress down, exposing one breast. I feel my heart racing as I watch her running her hand over her bare breast, cupping it in her palm and running her fingers over her nipple.

The screen is just inches from my face, but Miss Maggie is so far away. She's just close enough to taunt me.

Her breast shines with oil, and she caresses it lovingly, gently stroking her nipple. For one moment, she closes her eyes and relaxes

"Danny?" she asks casually.

"Y-yes ma'am?" Danny responds.

"Come over here. I want you. Just follow the sound of my voice," she says, beckoning to him.

Hesitantly, stepping blindly, Danny walks over to his mistress' side, keeping his back straight like a soldier in formation.

"Stop. That's close enough," Miss Maggie says, when he's just a few inches from the bedside.

Standing at Miss Maggie's bedside, Danny's rigid cock is right at Miss Maggie's eye level. Her hands are slick with oil. I know what's coming next.

Miss Maggie doesn't waste time. She reaches right over and takes Danny's cock in her hands, stroking it down its length with slippery fingers. Her warm smile of contentment is gone, replaced once again by that familiar grin of sadistic glee.

Danny immediately shifts on his feet in discomfort.

"Did I say you could move, boy?" Miss Maggie asks him, her tone venomous.

"N-no Ma'am," Danny says.

His body quivers as Miss Maggie fondles his cock, but he keeps standing straight. He struggles to keep his face impassive, but Miss Maggie doesn't even look at him. She just lounges back in perfect luxury, idly stroking Danny's cock as if it were a toy.

"You don't know how much I've missed this, honey," Miss Maggie sighs. "This is the good life, right here."

A low moan of anguish escapes Danny's throat. His face clenches up, as if he's holding back tears. He's desperate for an orgasm now. I can tell.

Miss Maggie arches one eyebrow in annoyance as she looks up at him, his cock still firm in her grip.

"I don't remember giving you permission to speak, either," she says. "I was counting on some peace and quiet tonight,"

"I-I'm sorry, Ma'am. Please don't be angry with me," Danny pleads, his voice weak.

"Aw, hell. I'd keep you like this all week if I could. You'd make nice decoration. But I suppose I ought to get down to business," she says.

"B-business?" Danny stammers, confused.

She shifts her grip to Danny's balls and squeezes them hard. Danny throws his head back in shock and gives a high-pitched yelp of pain. Miss Maggie giggles girlishly.

"You ready for some real fun now?" Miss Maggie asks him.

"Always," Danny answers quickly.

Miss Maggie stands up, grabs Danny's elbows, and gently turns him around, leaving his back to the bed.

For just one moment, she rummages through a drawer in her bedside table and pulls out two tiny items. I lean my head in closer to the screen to get a better look, and I recognize them: a second pair of silver handcuffs and a tiny silver key.

"I'm taking the cuffs off. But just for a minute. You ain't gonna try to run off, are you?" she asks.

"No, Ma'am!" Danny says.

"Good," Miss Maggie says, smiling.

She leans over and unlocks Danny's handcuffs. Danny spreads his wrists gratefully, but she leaves the cuffs dangling loosely from his left wrist. As soon as they're off, Miss Maggie leans over and clamps the second set of cuffs down on his bare right wrist.

"Sit down," she orders.

Danny bends his knees and rests his bare bottom on the soft blanket covering the bed, and Miss Maggie puts a finger hand to his firm chest, gently pushing him down until he sinks back into the mattress with his head resting on the pillows.
"There you go. A nice soft featherbed for my slave. You can take your torture in the lap of luxury. I might be a bitch, but I always give my boys the best, don't I?" she asks playfully.

"Yes, Miss Maggie. Always," Danny says.

Giggling maliciously, she takes Danny's left wrist in her hand and guides it back to the left corner of the bed, then clamps the empty ring of the handcuffs down on the wooden slats of the headboard. She does the same to the set of handcuffs on Danny's right wrist, binding his hands helplessly to the bed.

"Almost ready..." Miss Maggie says, methodically looking over her bound captive.

She walks down to the other end of the bed, absentmindedly trailing her fingers over Danny's erect cock as she goes. Danny's legs are still free and unbound.

Rummaging through the cabinet drawer once more, she pulls out another length of rope, just like the one binding me fast to my chair.

"Spread your legs and hold still," Miss Maggie orders him.

Danny obeys. Miss Maggie leans over his bound body with the rope in her hand and gets busy tying his legs to the bedpost, winding the rope around his ankles and pulling the knots tight. Danny strains futilely at his bonds, breathing hard.

Miss Maggie makes him wait as long as she can. Fear and anticipation are her most wicked instruments of torture.

"Do you want me to take the blindfold off?" Miss Maggie asks him sweetly.

"Y-yes please, Ma'am," Danny stammers.

"Are you sure? Getting to look at me is a privilege for men like you. I don't give it up for nothing," she says.

"Whatever you want, Ma'am. Anything!" Danny says, eager to please.

"Anything..." Miss Maggie says dreamily. "I'll hold you to that, you know."

She pats his stomach affectionately as she moves her hand to his face. She bends down to pull the blindfold free from his eyes, the full swell of her tits on display for his pleasure. As soon as she pulls off the blindfold, Danny's eyes snap right to her breasts, and his face flushes with embarrassment.

Miss Maggie notices immediately, and slaps him hard across the cheek.

"Mind your manners, boy," she hisses.

She stands up, stretches her muscles, and turns around to walk back to the cabinet. Though he's stunned, Danny fixes his eyes squarely on her butt.

Miss Maggie stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulder, her eyes flashing maliciously as she raises one eyebrow.

"See anything you like?" she asks forcefully.

"What? No ma'am, I—"

"Don't lie to me, boy. I know you like to look at me. Even though you know it's rude to stare."

"Yes ma'am. It was stupid of me to—"

"Oh, Danny..." she sighs, clicking her tongue in disapproval. "You can't even stop drooling over me when I got you tied to my bed and dead to rights. Honestly... You know I can punish you any damn way I want, but you still can't quit starin' at my behind?

With her Mississippi drawl, she pronounces that last word like two words: BEE-hind.

Miss Maggie's got the money and the time to stay in shape, and she's far too vain to let herself get fat. But every so often, I hear her joking idly about the size of her ass. I can never tell if she's proud of it or embarrassed.

"I'll get that café lookin' classy some day, if I can just get up off my big ol' behind some weekend and fix it up," she'd said to me once, rubbing her backside absentmindedly while she said it.

"This heat wave's gettin' to be a real kick in my oversized ass," she'd said to me during one particularly hot summer, while fanning herself on a couch in her living room.

"I thought you would have learned to behave by now. But maybe I'll have to teach you some manners myself," she says.

I see Danny wince, dreading the pain that he knows is coming.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I swear, I'm sorry," Danny pleads, desperate for a scrap of Miss Maggie's mercy. "I never meant to—"

"Shhh..." Miss Maggie coos, putting a finger to Danny's lips to quiet him.

She walks to the nearby chest of drawers and bends down to open the lowest drawer. Her dress hitches up, exposing the lower cleft of her plump bottom. Danny stares and stares. He knows that she's dead-set on punishing him; averting his eyes won't help him now.

After a good twenty seconds of letting Danny enjoy the view, she finds what she was looking for: an elegant-looking cat-o'-nine-tails whip with a carved wooden handle and long leather tails. As she stand up and turns around, she takes her sweet time brandishing it in Danny's face, grinning gleefully.

"I'm sorry Miss Maggie," Danny whimpers, accepting his fate. "I'm so sorry."

"What are you apologizing for, honey?" Miss Maggie asks, striding towards him. "You know how much I love this part."

She brings the whip down hard on Danny's bare stomach, in a slanting arc, with an almighty SLAP of leather against bare flesh.

Danny yelps wildly and tries to cringe backwards, but the rope and handcuffs hold him fast to the bed, his limbs outstretched wide.

Miss Maggie closes her eyes and throws her head back, breathing deep. The look of contentment on her face is deeper than any I've ever seen.

"God, I love that feeling," she says breathily. "Ain't nothin' in the world like it. The first lick of the night."

Danny recovers. He opens his eyes again and breathes slowly, wincing softly. A fierce pink welt is visible on his stomach.

Miss Maggie moves closer to him, her eyes locked with his all the way.

"Don't bother countin' out the licks," she says lazily. "I'll give you as many as I feel like. I'll keep it up until I get tired. Or bored."

She starts with his legs, bringing the whip down in a series of hard snaps, flicking her wrist with each stroke. She's clearly practiced at her craft; she doesn't exert herself more than she needs to, and each stroke is like a move in some well-practiced dance.

Danny struggles involuntarily against the cuffs, straining to break his bonds and escape that constant stream of pain, though he knows that it's useless to try. After at least twenty licks, she works her way up, lashing at his stomach and chest, leaving long pink welts with every stroke.

They're like dancers in tandem: with every downward stroke of Miss Maggie's whip, Danny twitches on the bed, his limbs springing to life just the way she likes. According to the time-stamp, it's just over an hour before she finally gives him respite.

Even with the blindfold off, he keeps his eyes shut tight for every minute of his punishment, as if terrified of the sight of that whip. But as soon as he feels the blows stop, he hesitantly opens his eyes. His chest heaves, and his legs and midsection are shiny with sweat, as if he's just run a mile. His eyes are dazed with pain, his cheeks flushed with humiliation.

"One more," Miss Maggie says.

She brings the whip down hard on Danny's stomach just once more, and he yelps out loud.

"There..." she says, satisfied.

She drops the whip to the floor, moves in close, and steps over Danny's naked body to straddle his bare chest. After getting a taste of Miss Maggie's wrath, he tries to squirm away on instinct, though he knows he's got no chance.

Her dress hikes up as she wiggles her hips, getting comfy. From behind, I get a peek at the lower half of her bare butt. From the front, I figure, Danny must be able to see at least a glimpse of her exposed pubic hair. He must have figured out that she's not wearing any panties.

"That's right, honey," Miss Maggie whispers. "I'm goin' commando, just for you. And I'm real wet right now. Can you feel it? You must know how much I love that old whip of mine. You did real good, too. You screamed just the way I like."

Danny's cuffed hands twitch. I hear the chains of his handcuffs rattling as he futilely struggles against them.

Miss Maggie chuckles, and reaches down to caress his cheek.

"Don't you worry, honey. I won't leave you hangin'."

She turns back to the camera and gives me a wink, then scoots herself down Danny's body, positioning her crotch over his mouth.

"You want to get on my good side again, love?" Miss Maggie asks him, her tone equal parts honey and poison.

Danny doesn't bother to speak. He nods silently, saving his voice.

Miss Maggie relaxes, and reaches one dainty finger down to finger her pussy, spreading her labia and exposing her stiffening clit. Danny gives a gasp of pleasure before she plops herself down over his mouth, silencing him.

"Lick me," she orders. "And don't you dare stop 'til I say 'stop'."

Danny's eyes glaze over with pleasure as he digs his tongue into the folds of Miss Maggie's wet labia. His cock is at full throbbing hardness, engorged with blood and twitching wildly. Miss Maggie rocks back and forth, enjoying the rhythm of her slave's tongue against her most intimate places.

I can stand it no longer: I dig my heels into the cold, hard floor, straining to stand up until my thigh muscles ache and burn. My vulva is warmer and wetter than I've ever felt it in my life, and it leaves the seat of the chair sticky. I shift back and forth in my bonds, rubbing my pussy against my bound thighs as best I can. But it isn't enough—not by half.

It's the perfect juxtaposition: the iron hardness of Danny's twitching penis, the velvet softness of Miss Maggie's perfectly round behind; Miss Maggie's demure power, Danny's earnest suffering and humiliation. They're like two dancers on that bed, locked in each other's embrace. But when Miss Maggie reaches back to stroke Danny's cock, and I see his limbs rocked by another spasm of interrupted pleasure, I remember who's in charge.

I know Miss Maggie's reached her apex when she throws back her head and arches her back, letting out a high-pitched sigh of pleasure that somehow reminds me of a cat.

"Hold your breath," I hear her order, as she comes down from her orgasm. "Go on, hold your breath."

Danny doesn't need to be told twice; he takes a desperate gulp of air, his breath hissing in his throat.

Then Miss Maggie inches forward, props herself up by her hands, and plops her full, round backside down on Danny's face.

He bucks, twitches, and rolls side to side—but eventually he lies still, concentrating on nothing but holding his breath as Miss Maggie smothers him. She sighs, lovingly caressing Danny's erects penis as she playfully bounces up and down. I enjoy the peep show for all it's worth, my eyes riveted helplessly on that perfect bottom as it jiggles and quivers on Danny's face.

She eases back and props her ass up, letting Danny breathe freely. But still, she won't take her hand off of his cock. This time, she isn't playfully stroking it—she's working it, hard and fast. It's enough to leave a man dizzy after a full night of teasing, and it shows.

Danny's lips twitch; he stares at a single spot on the ceiling, as if in a trance.

After a moment, I realize that he's not just babbling: he's repeating two words, over and over again, as if reciting a mantra:

Fuck me... Fuck me... Fuck me...

"What's that, darlin'?" Miss Maggie asks.

"N-nothing," Danny stammers.

Miss Maggie's hand creeps to Danny's throat, and she clenches it ever so slightly.

"Don't lie to me, Danny. I'll make it a hell of a lot harder for you if you play dumb."

She squeezes his throat harder.

"Now..." she says. "What. Did. You. Say?"

A moment of silence passes.

What will Danny do? Risk Miss Maggie's wrath with his silence, or risk it by speaking?

"I-I said... 'Fuck me.' That's all."

"Are my ears playin' tricks on me, honey? I could have sworn you just tried to give me an order," Miss Maggie hisses.

"I'm sorry Ma'am..." Danny moans pathetically. "I'm so sorry..."

"After all that time under my whip, I thought you would have learned some manners by now. But maybe that's not what you need..."

Danny quivers as Miss Maggie reaches for the necktie and leans over to tie it around Danny's eyes. This time, Danny doesn't dare gaze at her breasts as she leans over.

With that, Miss Maggie lifts her legs and moves to stand up, affectionately patting Danny's rigid cock as she climbs to her feet. She adjusts her dress, pulling the lower hem back down to cover her bare backside.

"You know what I think? I think you need some time alone to think about what you've done. Maybe you ain't ready for a woman's touch yet. But don't you worry none. One of these days, I'll teach you to behave. A few hours alone with me can work wonders..."

Danny's breathing speeds up, and I see his erection falling. He rolls back and forth, struggling against his bonds with all his might, his eyes nearly brimming with tears.

"Don't leave... Don't stop..." he begs her. "Please, Ma'am... I'll do anything!"

She chuckles.

"'Anything'? Honey, what have I told you about makin' promises you can't keep? I don't think you'll be doin' much of anything tied to that bed. But you're welcome to try."

With one last smile towards the camera, she turns out the lamp and walks out of the room.

"Sleep tight, darlin'," she says mischievously.

Even after she's gone, the camera stays running, leaving me with a perfect view of Danny's naked, sweat-soaked body. He lies limply on the bed, now utterly defeated, too weak to struggle against his handcuffs. He's not going anywhere—and neither am I.

It must be at least ten minutes before I hear the door's hinges creak.

Miss Maggie strides in, grinning broadly. Her ringlets of chestnut hair are sweaty and askew, but she's as beautiful as ever.

"How was that?" she asks.

"I-incredible..." I stammer, my voice fading.

"Really? Don't think I was too cruel to the poor boy?" she asks.

I shake my head, too scared to criticize her.

"Good. I ain't too big a bitch, though. I won't keep him trussed up all night. I'll untie him in a few hours. But he ain't sleepin' in my bed tonight. None of my boys have ever gotten that far with me," Miss Maggie says.

Then she goes back to the chest of drawers and pulls out another drawer, revealing the most welcome sight that I've seen all night: a thin white cordless vibrator with a tapered end.

I want to sigh in relief, but I save my breath.

"You've been a good girl, Kara," Miss Maggie says. "So I'll give you a treat. I'll give you a little taste of what Danny's cravin' right about now."

"Thank you Miss Maggie..." I sigh. But she's already advancing towards me, the vibrator clenched firmly in her right hand. She switches it on, and it buzzes loud enough that I can hear it on the other end of the room.

She kneels down and moves the vibrator towards my pussy, and I feel myself growing wet all over again.

"Scream for me, darlin'," she orders. "Scream the way I like."

And I do.

The touch of that vibrator is like my first drink of real water after an eternity of desert mirages. My thighs burn, my wrists are chafed, and my butt's numb, but that fierce buzz of pleasure between my legs makes it all worth it. After an hour of futilely yearning for relief, my arousal is nearly painful. But then I feel the climax coming—and I know that this time, Miss Maggie will be merciful.

I want to caress my breasts, rub my nipples and run my hands through my hair. I want to lean back and kick my legs with pleasure. But since I can't, I settle for one long scream. My voice cracks with arousal, climbing into a high-pitched squeal and flattening down into a long moan...until I can do nothing but gurgle.

By then, Miss Maggie has already set down the vibrator, and she's moving to the back of the chair to untie the knots at my wrists and ankles. When I feel my wrists falling free, I just hang them motionlessly by my side, stretching out my legs and crossing them together when I feel the ropes come off of my ankles.

I almost forget to pull my panties back up when my hands are free. With my pussy covered again, I kick aside my shorts. I don't bother to button my shirt back up.

Miss Maggie hands me a glass of water, and I accept it eagerly, lapping up the water so fast that it dribbles down my chin and onto my exposed breasts.

"Th-thanks..." I stammer, when I've drained the glass.

"Any time, girl. You looked like your evening could use some excitement," Miss Maggie says.

I meant "Thanks for the water..." I think. But I don't say it aloud. I won't spoil the moment.

As I set down the glass, I find myself looking back at the flat-screen TV on the wall. I can still see Danny lying on that bed, sweaty and streaked with welts. With his eyes blindfolded, I can't tell if he's sleeping.

I look over to Miss Maggie. She's staring at the TV screen too, smiling with satisfaction, admiring her handiwork.

"Hey Kara. You mind if I ask you for a little favor?" Miss Maggie asks.

I shake my head. Miss Maggie gestures to the screen.

"I'll be sendin' Danny on his way in the morning. But I ain't havin' him walkin' around my house naked. His clothes are still down in the living room. Any chance you might be able to lay 'em out in the guest room?"

I start to nod, but then I stop. It takes a moment for her request to click in my mind. But then I realize what she's asking me.

"You mean... You want me to go in there?" I ask, dumbfounded, pointing at the screen.

Miss Maggie gives a little giggle.

"What's the problem?" she asks. "Want me to do it instead?"

I shake my head so violently, I almost give myself whiplash.

Miss Maggie grins at me.

"Alright, then. Get goin'," she says. "And Kara..."

I perk my ears up, and she leans in close.

"If you want to have some fun with him, well... He's cuffed to the bed. Ain't like he'll be able to fight you. And I got him blindfolded. He'll never know it was you. You'll never get a better chance..."

I feel a tingle of excitement along the back of my neck.

"He's yours, if you want him," Miss Maggie says. "Have at him, girl."

Shakily, I get to my feet and walk out of the bedroom, not daring to look back at Miss Maggie. I can feel my face contorting into some bizarre expression of excitement. I won't let her see me.

"And Kara?" she says, stopping me when I make it to the door.

I turn back to her, straining to keep my face straight.

"You better not untie him, you hear?" Miss Maggie says, her voice frosty. "If you do, I'll spank your cute little ass 'til it's purple. You can do anything you want to him, but don't you dare untie him."

I nod nervously, then turn away and head back through the hallway and down the stairs to the living room.

As soon as I reach the bottom of the stairwell, I can't help but look up at the ceiling for a camera. I see it at the corner of the ceiling: an orb of black glass, no bigger than an egg.

Danny's jacket, shirt, pants, shoes and underwear are dumped on the floor in an untidy pile—a tiny spot of chaos in Miss Maggie's immaculate living room. I stoop down to the ground to pick his clothes up, folding each piece of clothing as I go along. I can still feel the warmth of Danny's skin on his pants and shirt.

In my bare feet, I tiptoe back up the stairway, picking out the third door on the second floor. That's the guest room—the finest room in Miss Maggie's house—and I've never once entered it.

I try to open the door silently. I really do. But the door's hinges creak as soon as I push it open. Back in the shadows, I see something stir. It's Danny, looking up from the bed for the source of the noise.

I hear the sharp clack of metal on wood as his handcuffs rattle against the bedposts. His breathing quickens. As my eyes adjust to the light, I pick out the shape of his body in the darkness: the perfectly placed contours of his firm torso, the light mat of steel-grey hair on his chest, and his slender, well-muscled arms and legs. His penis lies limp against his thigh—but as soon as he hears my footsteps creaking on the floorboards, it gives a light twitch.
"M-Miss Maggie?" he whispers timidly. "I-is that you?"

I don't answer. I drop his folded-up clothes at the foot of his bed and creep closer, bending down over his bound body.

Goosebumps rise over his chest as he feels my breath on his skin. I see him trying to clamber away, though he knows that it's no use. He knows that someone's come back to punish him.

I move slowly. Bending down farther, I let my bare tits brush his penis, and I hear him gasp. Then I climb up onto the bed, straddle his legs, rest one hand on his chest, and lower my head down to his crotch.

"Please, Miss Maggie... Please don't..." he begs, his voice faint.

I don't dare speak, but I want to put him at ease. So I lay a finger upon his lips to quiet his pleading.

"Shhhhh..." I coo.

I pop the head of his penis into my mouth and give it a soft little kiss. I find the rim of his cock with my tongue, gently teasing it and massaging it until I feel his body quivering. His cock comes alive in my mouth, hardening and thickening and softly pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Danny's breath hisses in his mouth at a fast clip. He's past begging for mercy now, past moaning in anguish. He can do nothing but lie back and wait for that sweet climax.

I stroke the sides of his stiffening cock with my moist lips, drawing each stroke out as long as I can. I savor the feeling of the bulging vein on the underside of his penis, practically smiling in triumph when I feel his cock at full throbbing hardness.

"You'll never get a better chance..." I hear Miss Maggie's voice telling me. And she's goddamn right.

I slide my tongue up and down the shaft of that magnificent cock, lavishing it with saliva until it slips and slides in my mouth. Danny twitches and thrashes on the bed, helpless in his bonds. He'd do anything to caress my body; under different circumstances, I'd let let him. But not tonight.

I know his climax is close when I feel his midsection bucking and hear his breath catch in his throat. He's waited all night for this. I better make it worth his while.

But no. Inspiration seizing me, I think of something better.

I remove my lips from his cock. I see his face contort with frustration as he waits for an orgasm that never comes. Amused, I have to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from giggling.

Do it now, I tell myself. Do it now, before you lose your nerve.

I slide a finger into the waistband of my panties, slide them down to my ankles, then kick them aside. I spread my legs; I know Danny can't get a peek, and that makes it so much more fun.

With my knees shaking with anticipation, I inch myself forward—still straddling poor Danny with both legs—and lower my bare butt down onto his still-hard cock, clenching it between my cheeks. He tenses at the feel of my warm, soft flesh against his manhood. For a moment, I almost expect him to burst right then and there, but the boy's stronger than I give him credit for.

For just a few seconds, I playfully rock back and forth on his cock, gently squeezing my ass cheeks together to tease him. But then, it's down to business.

I slide back, take his cock in my hands, and forcefully guide it towards the moist opening of my vulva.

This is no frenzied lovemaking session. He won't be pawing greedily at my tits, or driving his cock into me and savoring my moans. No. Tonight, he's my personal sex toy—and he'll please me how I want.

He practically shrieks as his cock enters me, hysterical with arousal. After a night of being teased and beaten, it's almost more than he can bear. I can enjoy the feel of his rigid cock against the sensitive folds of my pussy, but I stay sane enough to keep my mind on what I'm doing. I rotate my hips back and forth, letting his cock rub me from every possible angle; I gently rock forward and back and bounce up and down, searching for that perfect spot. When I find it, I cry out so hard I nearly give myself away.

There. When I feel his cock against the front wall of my pussy, I speed up, jerking my hips up and down, riding on that feeling until it seems like it'll last forever. Danny can tell he's hit my G-spot, and it gets him harder than ever. I know the poor boy's ready to burst; but with the memory of my last orgasm fresh on my mind, I'm even closer to that glorious precipice than him.

It's the first time in my life that I've ever hit an orgasm hard enough to make me squirt. I savor it like a fine wine, like a rare steak, like a slow-motion symphony. For one moment, I have to close my eyes—but when I open them again, I'm drinking in the blessed sight of Danny's clenched hands bound to the bedposts by steel handcuffs, feeling my warm juices spurt all the while. I come so hard, it leaves me dizzy. If I passed out now, could I spend all night asleep on his firm chest?

Then it's Danny's turn. With a long, deep cry—half scream and half groan—he jerks and cums, his body twisting and contorting on the bed in a spasm of pleasure. Before it even happens, he's chanting again.

"Thank you... Oh God, thank you... Thank you..." he says.

Even after he falls silent, his lips keep twitching.

When it's all over, I turn down to look down at his face. His mouth hangs wide open in shock, his brow knotted up with exertion. But the blindfold is still tight around his eyes.

"Th-thank you, Miss Maggie... Thank you..." Danny says weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

If I speak, he'll know that I'm not her. So I don't speak. I settle for giving him a playful pat on the cheek.

It seems a shame to leave him tied to the bed. But orders are orders.

I climb down from the bed and stand up to leave, stealing one last look at a corner of the ceiling before I go.

The camera is right there, encased in black glass, no bigger than an egg. I know Miss Maggie's watching me—and knowing that makes me smile inside.

I'm learning, Miss Maggie, I think. We've all gotta start somewhere.

I give the camera a wink, and I leave the way I came.

lover   magnolia's  

May 9, 2018 in femdom

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