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I turned away from him, pulling metal banjo picks from the steel box and affixing them to my fingertips. The metal would enhance the electrical current, maximizing the sensation. I ran them up and down his body, as he gasped, and shouted out in ecstatic, painful bliss. As I grazed over the vee of his abdomen, he hissed, arching and writhing, but never dropping the contact wand that would cut off the current and end the torture
No, he was edacious, hungering for more.
We moved together like a dance, the sounds of his pleasure and pain creating the orchestration to our movements. His cock, hard and heavy and dripping from his tip, bobbed as it begged for touch.
“Louder, pet. Let everyone hear just how much you like pain. Tell them how you crave it.” I teased him with my words loudly, letting everyone hear my words.
“I crave you, Mistress. For you. Christ! All for you.” I felt my pussy clench at his words. My need for him was beyond sexual. I fed off of this; the energy we created together through pain, torture, and pleasure. I was drunk with it.
I turned the dial again, just a bit higher, letting my metal covered fingers scratch along his abdomen, digging into his flesh enough to leave little red scratch lines as I moved from his chest to his sides and up his rib cage.
My fingers moved down again, to his hips, slowing down as I neared his cock. Slower and slower, I began to run little patterns over the sensitive skin. He gasped, groaned, and pled with me for more, for less, for everything and anything.
Finally, he’d had enough. I removed my hands, taking off the banjo picks and setting them back in the case before turning off the violet wand and taking the body contact wand from him to place safely back in its case.
I ran my hands over his body, up to his face, where I grabbed his chin firmly, bringing his gaze back to mine.
“Mine,” I whispered, leaning in to kiss him gently on the lips.
I’d never kissed any of my submissives before him, and definitely never in public. The action brought gasps and sighs from the crowd, their murmuring only beginning to pierce the edge of my notice.
“Yours.” He sighed contentedly, relaxing into the table as I quickly worked to remove the cuffs from his wrists and ankles before wrapping him in his robe. I shot a look at Bex and Jester as we left the area, heading back to the aftercare room. Septus shook beside me, trembling. I pulled him tighter, offering him comfort and support.
I closed the door behind me, turning to see him across the room, looking at me like a lion stalking his prey. It was a nearly perfect repeat of our first scene.
“I need to kiss you.” He growled the words. Yes, a perfect repeat of our first aftercare together.
“I just kissed you.” Even as I spoke the words, I could feel my pulse pound in my veins, my heartbeat racing with every breath of anticipation. The crackle of sexual energy in the room was as sharp and demanding as the violet wand had been.
“I don’t care. I need you. All of you. Now.” He panted out every word with harsh breaths, his hands clenched at his sides.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a groan, I responded. “Yes. God fucking yes.”
Our bodies met like a clash of lightning, arms wrapping around one another, lips touching, tongues seeking and exploring. I untied the sash of his robe, pulling it over his shoulders and tossing it to the side, needing to feel his skin beneath my hands.
I felt the heat still buzzing just below the surface from the torture I had inflicted. I reveled in it. My hands moved up around his neck, pulling him to me as his hands grasped around my back, splaying wide with long fingers as he held me close, so close and never close enough.
“Remove my clothes, Septus.” I rasped the words against his lips, pulling away.
“Mistress.” He groaned, his hands dropping to the laces of my front-tie corset. With nimble fingers, he loosened the fabric and pulled it apart, freeing me from the confines. The lace bralette was tugged over my head and before I could even open my eyes again, he was on his knees, pulling my panties down to the ground below.
His lips followed his fingers, kissing along the lines of my nude form, paying homage to my body as he worshiped me. That’s what it was. It wasn’t wanting or simple desire. This was devotion. This was worship.
I stepped back slowly. He followed every step with his own, there on his knees. Finally, I reached the edge of the bed. Leaning back onto my elbows, I opened my legs for him.
“Do you want to touch me, pet?” I purred the words.
“Yes.” He breathed the words like a prayer. And I would gladly be his goddess.
“With what?”
“With my fingers. With my hands. With my lips, my tongue. With my cock.”
“Where?” I drew the moment out, reveling in the anticipation as it stretched like a bowstring, taut and strong.
“Everywhere.” The sheer, raw need in his voice set my desire into a blazing inferno.
“Worship me, Septus. Worship your Mistress.”
