Erotic fiction inspired by Sandy E in “Dominance”
She enters the room, pushing the door open with a crash. I am seated, waiting, hands folded on my lap, knees together, just like Mistress told me to.
There she stands in the doorway, Amazonian in posture. She is as naked as she can be while wearing clothes. Her black mesh dress hides nothing, but still she is dressed and I am naked.
I say nothing. I must not speak, must not make a sound if I want to please her. And I want to please Mistress Sandy.
Into the room she walks. Slowly, deliberately. Each step as sure as the next, approaching me with a predator’s poise. She walks around me, one hand reaching out, fingers curling around my neck to stroke my skin as she moves behind me.
She stops and her fingers glide up through my hair until they bunch on top of my head and grip tight, the tang of pain as my hairs are tugged from their roots. I hear her laugh; a snort of derision. She lets go. My head jerks forward as she pushes it away from her.
Her fingers again, brushing lightly over my flesh as she circles me, her prey.
I watch her walk away from me, her curvaceous ass makes my cock stir, her cheeks rolling with each step she takes. Her legs are clad in black PVC boots, the heels longer than my prick when hard – Mistress has measured them against each other, digging those heels into my groin while standing over me. She takes great pleasure in reminding me about those heels.
She goes to her cage, black wire framed, tall and wide enough for one person to stand up in, if they hunch over. The handcuffs hang suspended from a pole that spans the width of the prison at head height. She reaches for them and drags them along the pole, metal scraping upon metal. She turns to look at me, thoughtful.
She comes to me, her mind made up. Behind my hands I hide my erection. Her soft touch, that ass, the way she moves and the anticipation of what she is about to do to me has brought me to attention.
She takes me by the hand and without a word, hauls me to my feet. I stand and try to cover my penis, for she will not be pleased; but with only the one hand, I am unable to hide my desire. She looks down at my cock and slaps my hand away.
With her hands on her hips she stares at my erection.
“You want to touch it?” she says.
“Yes, Mistress,” I confess.
“Well don’t!” she says, a warning. Her hand snakes out and slaps my cock hard. I feel the sting on one side of my shaft, muscle tensing, my mind willing her to grab it and squeeze me harder.
But she takes my hand again and leads me to the cage, lifting one hand and then the other, snapping the cuffs around each wrist, closing the door to shut me in. In that cramped cage, with my hands locked beside my head, she leaves me.
She makes for the chair I was sitting in.
“You want this?” she says, looking down at her body, hands grabbing her breasts. “I never told you to get hard. When you act without my permission, there are consequences. I see your prick, I know why you’re hard. You want me to milk you. You want relief? There is no relief for you. The pleasure is mine. Remember that…”
As she talks, she undresses, pulling her mesh dress off her shoulders, rolling it down her body, around her hips. She sits in the chair and opens her thighs, fingers running over her lips. My mind is racing. I cannot believe what I am seeing. Is she going to pleasure herself in front of me?
At first, I do not believe this to be a punishment. This is a pleasure, something to treasure, to see my Mistress touching herself, making herself cum. But I soon understand.
She looks at me with hard eyes as she spreads her pale pussy lips apart with one hand and rubs at her clit with the other. I see her hole moisten, glistening beads of juice spill from the darkness between her thighs to be spread over her sex, fingers dragging the wetness to her clit, a sheen on her lips.
She climbs off the chair and comes closer to the cage, turning and kneeling on the ground. She falls onto her hands, her ass so close to me. If I were not chained and caged, I could reach out and touch her, kiss her ass, lick her asshole. From here, I may as well be a thousand miles away for all I can do.
“You want to put that skinny little prick inside me?” she calls, mocking me. “You’ll never fuck me, you know that, don’t you? I should bring a real man in here, someone with a cock that can satisfy me. But what would you learn from that? You’ll never be a lover.”
Her fingers are patting her asshole, her juice shining off her cheeks; then they curl around and dive inside her tight pussy. I ache so badly. I am desperate to touch myself. I want to push my cock into her. I would push my cock through the holes in this cage if I could reach them. Every part of my body screams – all I want to do is touch my cock, watch her fuck herself and pump my dick hard, let my cum cover the floor.
Mistress fucks herself harder and faster, two fingers, then three. She rubs her clit, thumbs her asshole and bucks her ass back at me. I am sure she does this more to punish me than to please herself.
When she cums, she throws her head back, her blonde hair whipping the air, her mouth open as she moans so loudly.
It seems an age before she stands again. She comes to the cage and opens it, her fingers between her thighs, rubbing her clit softly. She raises her hand to my face; I can see her pussy juice shining on her fingers.
With one finger held out, she aims her hand at my mouth. I open it, eager to taste her.
“Uh, uh,” she says, taking it from me. Then she rubs her fingers over my nose so that I can smell her. “You don’t even get to taste me. Smell my cum. That’s all you get.”
Then she steps from the cage, closes it behind her and leaves the room…
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