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“Kneel for me, pet.” I watched as he dropped to his knees with an elegant grace and strength. Pride emanated from him in waves, matching the same feeling within me and increasing between us. Electricity and arousal sparked between us, but deeper than that, our dynamic bloomed, growing moment by moment with every breath we took.
“Present.” At my command, he shifted his position, moving from his legs pressed together and hands on his thighs, to spread knees and arms behind his back. His head stayed up, but those beautiful eyes lowered to the floor.
“Absolutely beautiful,” I whispered for only him to hear.
“Humble.” His position changed again, his chest falling forward to the floor with arms outstretched before him. His hips lifted, legs still spread as his back arched for me in a beautiful position of humility, praise, and submission.
I left him like that, prone and exposed, moving to the table where all the items for tonight’s scene were laid out beautifully. A group effort made by Bex and Jester. I didn’t need to check the items, but it gave time to the scene, letting Septus stay there as commanded for as long as I wished him to.
There were two tables placed in the space this evening. One for the items to be displayed, and one for him to lie on while I tortured his incredible body. I walked around to the front table, further away from him, and took a moment to just take him in. The very sight of him kneeling for me had my heart racing.
“Crawl to me, pet.” He visibly trembled for a mere moment before rising to his hands and knees and doing exactly as commanded. There were far too many people in this world who viewed a submissive man as weak, pitiful, and as doormats.
If they only knew. Submissive men were strong, sure, capable, and so fucking sexy. Septus crawled to me, not in a show of weakness, but one of strength, much like a panther. He was intentional in his movements, the powerful lines of his body moving like water, strong and sure.
His movement stopped as he laid himself at my feet, resuming the humble position he had been in.
“Worship your Mistress, pet.” He audibly groaned, lifting his head and changing his position. His hand wrapped around my ankle, his mouth meeting his hand as he kissed the sensitive flesh beneath my inner ankle bone. His kisses were slow and precise, his lips dragging up my skin as he worked his way higher. I leaned on the edge of the table for support, spreading my legs for his ascent. His mouth found my pussy, licking and lapping as he had done so many times before.
It took everything I had not to tilt my head back and simply revel in the feel of his lips on my cunt. Instead, I focused on him; on the way his body tensed and relaxed with every movement. His breath, hot and panting against my tender folds, only increased every sensation his tongue evoked.
His tongue battered my clit as he flicked and grazed his teeth over it. I could feel my orgasm climbing, growing nearer. He growled into me, drinking his fill of me. The man was ravenous and so fucking skilled in oral; it was difficult not to just give over and let myself cum. I wanted to cum. I needed to cum.
My hands worked through the thick strands of his hair, holding him to me until I finally neared that climax. Just as my clit began to tingle and my pussy clenched in the beginning stages of ecstasy, I pulled him back. His face was stunning, wide eyes and wet open lips as he panted from exertion and desire.
“On the table, pet.” My voice sounded shaky, my breaths matching his as we both felt the regret and the pain that came with denying an orgasm. But the scene was only beginning.
I rounded the table, standing at the head as Septus lay back. Leaning forward, my hands found his chest. I touched him, hands making nonsensical patterns, fingers flicking over flat nipples as he sighed in contentment. I moved up, guiding his arms over his head until I could wrap a cuff around each wrist, securing him for me; for my torture and my pleasure. I walked between where the two tables sat parallel to one another, my hand never leaving his body as I found his ankles, spreading his legs and attaching matching cuffs to each. He lay prone for me, legs spread and arms above his head.
Utter perfection.
“Are you ready?” I whispered, my hands still playing over his body, touching over his taut skin as he shifted and began to writhe beneath me.
“Beyond ready, Mistress,” he answered with a low groan. My eyes found his, seeing the sparked fire in his gaze that set my own desire ablaze. My need for this man had grown with each passing day. But pleasure would have to wait. Torture was on the menu tonight.
I turned to the other table, opening the hard metal case that held my violet wand. I plugged it in carefully, mindful of the glass probes and attachments. Affixing the body contact wand, I turned the dial on the handle, the sound of electric buzzing ringing out in the abnormally quiet space.
Normally, I fed off of the energy of the crowd when in a scene. Tonight, however, I fed off only the energy between myself and Septus. Dominant and submissive, and the dynamic we shared. It was enough. It was so fucking much. It was everything.
The handle of the violet wand could hold many attachments, but tonight, I had chosen the body contact wand. A long cord plugged into the handle, and on the end of it was a metal rod tipped with silicone. I could place it in the hand of the other party, or beneath their body, making them the conductor of the electrical current, instead of a probe. That would allow me to spark electricity anywhere on his body, even with only my fingertips.
I placed the wand in his hand.
“Remember what I told you, pet,” I whispered. I had instructed him on using this particular toy earlier in the evening. He had experience with it, but reminders were always good.
“Yes, Mistress.” He sighed, his gaze focused solely on me.
My hands hovered above his body, ready to touch and feel and torture. As I spread out my fingers, nearing his chest, little violet arcs of electricity sparked from his body to my fingertips, shocking us both in a beautiful electric buzz.The wand was on a low setting, so it almost tickled, electricity popping over his body like bubbles of barely stinging sensation.
He gasped and then sighed.
“More. Please.” His begging was music to my ears.
I turned up the dial, increasing the intensity as my fingers danced over his skin. His back arched, gasps and groans erupting from his lips as the violet electric arcs moved over his skin like a dance.
His thighs trembled as I moved over his hips and down his thighs, coming back up along the sensitive inner flesh and working back towards his chest.
He laughed loudly, ending in groans as I moved up his arms and back down again, playing his body like an instrument. That’s what he was: my instrument, and I the master of his body.
