One for Tonight by John Warren

There was an edge to her voice as she snapped, "Your tongue, slave. Finish the job with your tongue."

Slave! The word cut deeply into my soul... and released something that I didn't know was there... or had I simply buried it so deeply that I had forgotten its existence. Part of me watched in horror as I sunk to my knees, trousers soaking up the remnant of the bath, my tongue extended to offer homage to her thighs. The skin was soft and warm, perfumed with a mixture of the scent of the bath salts and the bouquet that was natural to her.

I looked up. Framed by those perfect breasts, she was smiling down at me. The smile of contentment... the smile of victory.

She lowered the seat of the toilet and sat down, extending her leg. I took it in my hands as if it were a precious gift. My old self wanted to lick higher and higher, find the juncture of her thighs, make her scream in pleasure as I possessed her with my tongue make her submit to my will through the pleasure I commanded. But my new self knew.

Her foot was lovely. I ran my tongue over the delicate arch eliciting a moan ripe with passionate promise. Each toe was a confection to be sucked and savored while occasionally stealing a glance at my goddess.

When her other foot reached out and gently caressed the strained fabric over my swollen cock, it was like an electric shock. As she playfully ran her toe up and down the length of my manhood, I sucked harder and harder until I was almost in a delirium.

Nothing remained of the bathroom, the hotel or the world; there was only her foot and my mouth.

Then, a firm hand took hold of the long hair at the back of my head, jerking it upward and away from her foot. Her face was enormous, lovely and powerful. It filled my vision, my world.

"Strip!" she commanded.

In a frenzy of obedience, I ripped off my shirt, popped buttons flying. The pants zipper jammed; I ripped it apart.

Naked, I dropped back to my knees, ready to continue to service her, but she had other things in mind.

"Come." The word wasn't snapped. I could tell she had no further need of the steel that had underlain her voice. She knew I was hers to command. What was more important was the I knew it. I could feel the old me throwing itself in a frenzy of frustration against the bars behind which my resurgent desires had imprisoned it. They were too strong. As long as this woman's scent surrounded me, as long as I could look up at her lovely body, I was a willing prisoner... for whatever she wanted to do.

I started to rise, but she firmly pushed me back on my knees. "You are mine now," she said. "You will remain on all fours unless I order you to stand. For now, stay down there and follow me."

Content, I followed her into the bedroom, eyes on that exquisite ass. She sat on a chair. I knelt before her. Reaching into a black lacquered box with ivory inlays, she took out a handful of leather straps with steel rings and arranged them on her thigh. Picking up one, she reached around my neck and fastened it in place.

Looking at me, all humor and passion put aside she said, "This is a symbol of your slavery. As long as you wear it, you are mine. You can put aside your slavery at any point by saying 'red light.' I will stop what I'm doing and remove the collar, but at that point, you must put on your clothing and leave and you'll never see me again. Do you understand." The steel was back in her voice for those three words. I tried to speak again, but my tongue was too big for my mouth and my lips felt dry and cracked. I nodded, violently, three times.

"Give me your wrists."

The cuffs went on. They felt that they belonged there... or perhaps, I belonged in them. She gave me the two larger cuffs and had me fasten them on my ankles. Then she had me get on the bed and lie face up while she attached the cuffs to chains.

I couldn't believe it. I was naked, helpless, and a beautiful naked woman was going to... I realized with a shock that I didn't know what she was going to do.

I watched with a sense of unreality as she went about the room, lighting candles on the bedtables, closing the shade, filling a glass with chopped ice and then pouring in a bit of water from a carafe. Then she stood over me, sipping the water and running her fingers lightly over my skin. I moaned and wasn't sure it the moan derived from the overwhelming passion filling every cell or the agony coming from my overwrought cock that threatened to explode at any moment.

"Thirsty, Slave?"

I was so overwrought that it took me a moment to decide if she were asking a question or simply stating something that seemed so obvious to me. Then, I nodded, expecting her to bring the glass to my lips. Instead, she took a mouthful of water, bent down and kissed me, letting the icy fluid drain from her mouth into mine.

From a drawer in the bedstand, she took a coin-shaped object. Cracking it, she extracted a condom. I could feel my whole body arcing, trying to reach the penultimate object. Then, she casually slipped it onto her mouth.

She bent close, letting me see how it rested between her lips and her teeth; teasingly, she poked it a bit with her tongue. Then, she took my cock in her hands and slowly, sensually, slid it into her mouth, letting the condom unroll around the cock as it entered. I expected her to withdraw after an inch or so and finish the job with her hands, but inexorably, sensually, she continued until she had possessed all of me. Then, with tiny downward jerks that threatened to vanquish what little self control I had remaining, she slid her mouth off my cock.

"See, you're all ready, Slave," she said. "All ready to pleasure me."

And, without another word, she leaped on the bed and her oven-hot pussy enveloped me. Automatically, as much as I could bound the way I was, I tried move my cock in and out of her pussy.

"STOP!" The word was like a whipstroke across my face. I froze.

"This is for my pleasure, and I'm not going to have my pleasure rushed" She began to move slowly up and down, squeezing delightfully on every downward stroke. The hair that had been bound up for the bath fell free, giving her a wild and barbarous look.

I couldn't stand it. Boiling lava filled my groin, and I shook as the orgasm began. She leaned forward, and I thought she was going to embrace my helpless body and ride the orgasm with me. Instead agony shot through my chest. The churning, rushing orgasm vanished. When I could focus, I saw her sitting back my cock deeply in her pussy and one of the candles from beside the bed in her hand.

The cooling wax pulled and teased at my nipple. As if to emphasize a point, she leaned forward, dropping a bit more wax on my other nipple. This time, I screamed. She leaned close, but all I could see was the tiny pool of wax growing in the bowl-shaped tip of the candle. However, her voice was loud and clear.

"I said, 'This is for my pleasure. You can come when I'm finished and not before. Understand?"

Wordlessly, I nodded.

Again, she began. At first, I couldn't take my eyes off the candle, but as the tempo grew, I became trapped by it. I was in bliss, I was coming, I was coming.

The strength of my scream startled even me.

This time, I held myself into control until it was her scream of pleasure that filled the room.

She lay still against me for a blissful eternity. Then she sat up and smiled.

"This one is for you."

The movements were even more intense; she gripped my cock with her pussy even more tightly even her eyes sparkled more. I had no need to hold back my passion and again it rose and I thrust upward, deeply into her.

With a smooth, practiced motion, she scooped up a handful of the crushed ice from the drinking glass, and reaching behind her, pressed it against my clutching balls.

The orgasm was mind-blowing. I was barely aware of her getting up and walking across the room to a connecting door.

"Thank you; thank you," I babbled.

"You don't need to thank me, Slave. I did it as a favor for a friend. A college friend who's been getting bored recently."

She opened the door, and Isobel, my wife, walked in.

She was wearing a black corset that framed but did not hide her full breasts or the luxuriant patch of blond pussy hair... and she was carrying a whip.