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Lessons In Control 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: Lessons in control: part 2
This is the second installation. Comments and suggestions are
once again solicited. And to the gentleman who wondered
about the positions in the first chapter--think about it.
Couldn't he caress the woman's breasts from behind?
Yes. He could.
Loredich
II
And I've been planning your next lesson, you
know. You did rather well in your first, I think,
though there are still some refinements that must
be learned. You seem to have grasped the balance
between yourself and me, slave and mistress. You
seem to be aware of the fact that disobedience
will bring punishment. Now what can you do for
me?
That is the best part of having a slave. I have
fantasized for months about having you at my
command, not only controlling your pleasure, but
controlling my own through you. Demanding that
you satisfy me with detailed, explicit instructions.
How well do you follow directions?
This remains to be seen.
I speak to you in my new tone of command. You
look up from the diversion you have been pursuing,
and aim a questioning glance at me. You seem to
recognize the tone, but I'm not sure you understand.
Your look speaks of uncertainty. That uncertainty
should not be there. When I speak to you, you are
to respond with speed and accuracy.
"Go clean yourself thoroughly, slave," I command you,
and you seem surprised that I intend to further your
lessons. Oh, this is only the beginning. Obediently
you rise and begin to walk towards the shower,
shedding clothing as you go. Perhaps you hope to
tantalize me with premature glimpses of your body.
Isn't power a delicious thing?
I hear the water running as you wash. I take this time
to walk to the bedroom, checking to be sure that all
is in place. Satisfied with my preparations, I undress
and sit on the bed to wait for you. As I wait, my own
private erotic movie flickers through my mind, and
it comes as a slight surprise when you step into the
room, patting yourself dry with a towel.
"Tonight, slave, you will learn to please me as I direct
you. We have already established my control over you,
haven't we?" I look at you from under my lashes with
a flirtatious wink.
"Yes, mistress," you answer unnecessarily. We both know
that I'm in charge. "What do you ask of me first?"
"Sit down," I tell you, gesturing towards the bed. You do,
and I return to the top drawer of the bureau where I
keep my secret things. I turn around, and you gasp aloud
when you see the riding crop in my hands. I caress the
crop as you watch me, and twirl its loop in my fingers.
"Now. Tonight I will demand specific tasks of you, and
you will execute them. You will execute them to my
satisfaction, at my command, or you will be punished.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, mistress." Unnecessary again. Your agreement is
implied; disagreement would be unspeakable.
"Very good. Do as you're told, and you will be rewarded.
Fail in your tasks, and you will be punished. I think
that's fair." I smile at you, a predatory, smug smile.
I never knew control could be so exhilarating. Just
knowing that you will perform my every whim--
Ah, well.
"I want you to make yourself hard for me, slave. I
want you to stroke your cock while I watch."
"May I lie down?" you ask, and I decide that there is
a better position for you to assume.
"No, kneel in front of me." You kneel before me on
the carpet, and your eyes are level with my hips.
I know my nakedness excites you; you have on occasion
adopted this position to please me with your tongue.
I look down at you as your fingers close around the
shaft of your penis, already beginning to harden from
the command that I've issued. One hand wanders up
to touch your nipples, one, then the other, as the other
begins to slide up and down along your erection. And
what an enticing sight. You would confess from time
to time having masturbated of a morning, and your
admissions always excited me, always. I am enjoying
the sight of you as you handle yourself.
I watch your penis grow and harden, and it becomes
a pleasant purple-red as you touch yourself. You look
up at me with a degree of humility that pleases me
immensely. "I'm hard now, mistress."
"Yes, I see that." I lie on the bed now, on my back, and
motion you over. "Come here." You sit beside me on
the bed. "I want you to make me wet now. You are
allowed to touch only my nipples. You are allowed to
use only your hands. Is that clear?"
You nod as a slow smile winds its way over your features.
I make sure that the crop is within easy reach if you
happen to deviate from my specific directions.
You arrange yourself over me, as if you planned to enter
me, and support yourself on your elbows. Your hands
come up to touch my breasts, cupping them in your
hands. They are small and firm and extremely sensitive
to touch; you know the way. You do.
Your fingers begin to caress my small, pinkish nipples,
just the tips of your fingers at first, then the palms of
your hands, stroking me gently, teasing me. This is
what I like. As my breath comes faster, you delicately
seize a nipple between each thumb and forefinger and
squeeze, hard. An involuntary moan escapes me, and
I realize my hips have begun to move in arousal. I
also realize that I have become quite damp with your
exertions. Nicely done, slave.
And I am about to commend you on your expertise
and subservience when you lower your head to
my breasts and take a nipple into your mouth. Your
lips are gentle and caressing at first, but then become
assertive and challenging as you nip at the hardened
peak with your teeth. I hope you are prepared to
face the consequences of such impertinence.
My crop comes down across your buttocks with enough
force to sting, though not enough to welt. I know--I've
practiced. You yelp in surprise, and I notice in that
moment that you have brought your hips hard down
against my legs, so that I can feel your penis straining
against my thighs. This has excited you, hasn't it?
I hope disobedience won't become a habit.
"You disobeyed me, slave. You must learn to perform
my commands when I issue them, and not before." My
tone is harsh as I stroke your buttocks with my crop;
this is a gentle reminder that I wield the power in this
instance.
"Yes, mistress," you gasp, grinding your pelvis against
my thighs for one last moment before you lunge away
from me. "Please forgive my disobedience. What may
I do for you next?"
"Continue with your mouth now. Perhaps I will be
persuaded to forgive you if you behave well this time."
So you bring your mouth down to my breasts once more,
using your lips on one nipple and your fingers on the
other. You suck them gently, then harder, and you
nibble gently from time to time. Soon the combined
feel of your soft lips and fingertips mingles with the
rough pinches and bites to make me weak with desire.
Power is the best aphrodisiac. Is this what was meant?
"Lick them," I tell you, and you eagerly comply; I notice
that you are sliding your penis along my legs, stroking
yourself against my skin. I decide not to reprimand
you, however, for you are really summoning up the most
delightful feelings from deep within my body. With my
eyes tightly closed I think of having you on your knees
before me once again, thoroughly trained, beautifully
finished.
We have made a good start.
Eventually I realize that I am as excited as such play can
make me, and it is time to move on to another stage of
instruction. I look up at you meaningfully, and you
move away from my breasts. "Wonderful," I purr,
genuinely pleased with the fact that you can be
commanded without words. "Lie on your back."
I move to allow you to assume the required position. I
then arrange myself above you so that your tongue can
reach me easily; I still hold the crop in my hands, but it
is merely a symbol. I do hope it won't be necessary to
use it. "Now," I tell you in a confidential, cozy tone,
"you are going to make me come with your mouth. Do
you understand?"
You nod enthusiastically, and the boyish smile that tickles
me so utterly spreads across your face. "You are rather
talented, you know," I tell you, conversationally, "and so I
expect only your finest." I settle myself down so that I
am easily accessible to your tongue and lips. "First I want
you to use only your tongue. I want you to lick me, up
and down. You may begin."
With characteristic eagerness you set to your task, and I
feel the soft broadness of your tongue as it slides over my
most sensitive folds. You do this slowly at first, and then
with increasing speed and pressure as my enjoyment
builds. Your tongue feels wonderful, delicate then strong,
as you tease me. You linger on my clitoris for what seems
quite a long time, and I look down at you, hoping you will
be able to sense my disapproval. But your eyes are closed
as you continue working, and you do not note my glance
of warning. Very well.
I slide the crop behind me and brush it over your stiff
penis, a warning. Your eyes fly open as I pat you with it,
and you devote yourself to your task with added fervor.
Up, and down, slowly. Slowly. My eyes close and my
hands move to caress my breasts, and once again I
replay erotic scenes in my mind, conscious only of the
motion of your tongue and the warmth it creates within
me.
"Suck my clit now, slave," I whisper, and immediately there
is a welcome pressure there as your lips close around me.
Your hands come up to stroke my buttocks and this
initiative is not to be reprimanded. I like it. I like it
very much.
And as I pinch my nipples, I begin to tingle all over, I
begin to sizzle, which seems cliched but which is also
quite accurate. You suck at me steadily, and I feel my
entire body tense up. I begin to tremble, almost there,
and then my entire body seems to light up like a
garish neon sign. I imagine the flush that comes over
my body when I am exceptionally aroused, and I cry
out with the warmth and intensity of it all.
"Stop now," I tell you breathlessly, for your ministrations
have continued, and it is becoming uncomfortable to feel
your tongue on me. Immediately you withdraw, and look
up at me for further instructions.
I move away from you, and bring a towel to your face to
clean off my juices and your saliva. You look delightful
right now, damp and pink and decadent. "Did I do well,
mistress?" you venture, and I am satisfied enough to
commend you.
"Quite well, my dear. Quite well." I smile at you as I
sit beside you, catching my breath. I look down over
your body and I see that your penis is stiff still--but
you have always loved doing that to a woman, watching
her lose control as you drive your tongue into her. Did
I lose control?
No. Control, you see, is the currency of sex now. I happen
to have a lot of it. You, dear slave, do not. You stopped
when I commanded it, mm? Enough said.
"What shall we have you do next?" I deliberate aloud,
allowing you to think that I have not made up my mind.
Ah, but I have. I know exactly what comes next. "You
will obey my commands, will you not?"
"Yes, mistress," you say softly, smiling at me. I know you
are hungry for attention, I know that your body is screaming
to be touched. Will you ask? I do hope not. It wouldn't
do. No, it wouldn't do at all.
"Good. Turn over on your stomach," I tell you, standing.
You direct a puzzled look at me, and you seem about to
question me until you realize that I have picked up
the crop again, stroking it fondly up and down, mimicking
the way I handle your penis sometimes. Playful, yet
purposeful.
You turn over, then, onto your stomach, and I can tell that
the pressure of your cock against the mattress pleases you.
Good. This should please you. I return to the top drawer
of the bureau and take from it a small tube of lubricant
and my newest toy, a cylindrical vibrator. It is roughly
the size of your penis, and it has provided me with hours
of amusement. It is time that you enjoyed it, too
"Spread your legs apart, slave," I command you, and you
do so without question, though you do not yet know what
I have planned. You have not seen the vibrator in my hand.
I want to surprise you, you see. "Would you like to know
what it's like to be penetrated, slave?"
"Yes, mistress," you say, and perhaps you say so because you
know that it is the only acceptable answer. But perhaps
you mean it. I think, in fact, that you do mean it.
"I'm holding a vibrator in my hand," I tell you, and your
head swings back over your shoulder to look. I gently
push your head back onto the mattress. "No, moving
is not allowed. You will be still. I am going to put this
inside you. Will you allow it?"
And here is where the very fine line between a consensual
game and absolute control becomes blurred. Do you want
this? Do you know that you can say no? Do you want to
say no? You know that I will not force you, that I will
punish you, but that I will not force you.
A look of uncertainty crosses your features, but I happen
to know that this has been part of your fantasies. You
smile and tell me, "Whatever you like, mistress," and the
moment of tension is gone.
"You are quite biddable," I praise you, and I uncap the
lubricant. I begin to apply it liberally, both to the
vibrator and to you. And you feel my fingers slip
inside of you, and your body tightens up immediately.
"Relax, slave," I croon. "I will not hurt you. I wouldn't
damage my favorite plaything." I stroke your buttocks
and the backs of your thighs until I feel your muscles
relax once more, and I continue applying the lubricant.
When I have finished I lean over and whisper in your
ear. "I want you to do this, slave. I want to watch you
put this inside you." For I have decided that it is more
likely to be pleasant if you do this, and it speaks better
of my control if you will do this for yourself.
"Yes, mistress," and I can see by your expression of
apprehension and arousal that I have hit on something
very, very good.
You reach around and take the now-slippery vibrator
in your hands. I aid you by spreading your buttocks
apart, and you position the vibrator at the puckered
opening between them. "Go slowly," I command you,
for I know from experience that it will be infinitely
more pleasurable this way.
I watch you slide the vibrator in, slowly, until it is
fully inside you. Your breath has been coming harder
and faster, and I know that the pain mingled with
the pleasure excites you as much as it does me. The
sight of you is gorgeous. Just gorgeous.
"How does it feel, slave? Do you like that?"
"Yes, mistress!" you pant, and I wonder if you have
any idea how much better it can get. But of course
you have never felt the thrusting there, the buildup
of speed, the release that I have felt with you inside
me.
I reach down and twist the base of the vibrator, and
you yelp as the toy begins to hum and quiver inside
of you. "Turn over," I tell you, and I can see that it
takes quite an effort to do so--I know the feeling
of being turned into jelly, responsive, hot jelly.
Your penis is as hard as I've ever seen it, and I am
glad that this pleases you. I am glad that you have
done this--would you have done it on your own if
I had not commanded you? I doubt it. You have
fantasized about it, thought about having such a nice,
firm object inside you like this, but would you have
done it?
What a good slave you are turning out to be.
I smile down at you and caress your face, which has
become contorted with discomfort and excitement.
I straddle you and brush myself against you. You
can feel my wetness against the impossible hardness
of your cock. "Fuck me, please, mistress," you whimper,
and I tease you for awhile longer, watching the tension
grow across your features, your eyes screwed tightly
shut.
"Very well, slave," I tell you, and I slide down onto
you abruptly, taking the length of you into me in a
single stroke. You are deep inside me and I begin
riding you hard, eager for my own climax, and equally
determined to deny you yours. I move up and down,
grinding my pelvis against yours to stimulate my clitoris,
which I visualize as a ripe red fruit.
It doesn't take long for me to come again, because I am
watching your face and imagining the feelings you
must be having with the vibrator buried deep inside you.
I caution you not to move, not to come, and frustration
is added to the stew of emotions that I am seeing in you.
And my climax comes, and I remain atop you for a moment,
then begin to withdraw. Your eyes snap open, and a wild
look crosses your face as you tell me, "Don't go, you fuck!"
"What did you call me?" I ask you incredulously. But I
have heard you, and I slap you, hard, relishing the sharp
sound of my palm against your smooth cheek. Your
body shudders, and with a spasm of your hips I am inside
you again.
"You forgot the other cheek," you tell me, eyes open wide,
watching my reaction. Very well. My hand meets the
other cheek with the same satisfying sound, and you
groan with the pleasure and pain of it all. "May I come
now, mistress?" you ask me, respectful once again.
I have finished with you, I think, and so I decide to grant
your request, though such an appalling lapse will be
remembered. "Yes, slave. I want you to come now. I
want you to come inside me."
And with a lurch you do. I feel your hot fluid filling me,
and I hear the gasps and cries that are your hallmark
as you tense and relax, tense and relax.
As soon as you have finished, I reach beneath you and
withdraw the vibrator. "Well done, slave," I tell you,
and pat you gently on the thigh. Gathering up a towel,
I stroll off to the shower, leaving you to recover alone.
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