Andrew had inclined his head slightly, as if to present his face to her, all but begging for her to slap him.
Belle was unfamiliar with having the power to slap someone. She was surprised to find that it excited her immensely to see Andrew on his knees, offering his face to be slapped. And such a pretty face it was.
This was exactly what made Belle go wet and hot inside when she was the one on her knees, in Andrew’s position. But she was really more interested in other pleasures at that particular moment, and in fact was quite eager to have Andrew “remove her boots.”
Instead of slapping him, Belle caressed his beautiful pink cheeks with her fingers and said, “What did you ask me?”
“I asked if I could remove your boots,” Andrew said brashly, all but daring her to slap him. “Madame Belle, may I please remove your boots? I would love to remove them and…take them all the way off.”
“Hold that thought,” she said. “And don’t move.”
Belle stalked to the table, where cold turkey and wine awaited her. She sat at the table nude except for her boots and, at her leisure, she took slim savory morsels of turkey and poured herself a glass of wine.
“May I serve you?” asked Andrew.
“No, you may not,” she said absently, without looking back at him. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in a dozen years of sleeping with men—” she laughed “—it’s how to serve myself.”
She could not see him, but she could feel the sting of her words.
“As you wish, Madame.”
Belle could also hear the strain in Andrew’s voice; it was becoming hard for him to hold that position, resting with his hands back on his ankles and his cock bulging forth. She did not glance behind her to see the stress in his body; just knowing it was there made her meal that much sweeter.
Belle took her time eating. The turkey was delicious and the wine was excellent. She had several pieces of fruit, including a few varieties she’d never tasted before—they did not have them in her region.
Belle rose and walked back to Andrew, who was biting his lower lip quite fetchingly, struggling to maintain his posture.
Belle stood before him, taking a long minute to lick her fingers—which were greasy with turkey and sugary with fruit—and her lips, red with wine. Her order not to move, which by now had caused intense pain to the muscles of Andrew’s arms and thighs and ass, had not diminished his erection. Belle could relate.
She licked her fruit-sweet fingers as she spoke. “Andrew, I think you asked me something,” she said innocently.
Andrew spoke with great effort, his brow moist with the tension in his muscles.
“I asked if I could remove your boots, Mistress,” he said, his voice conveying a great humility. “It was impolite for me to ask. I apologize.”
Belle reached out and ran her slick fingers across Andrew’s throat, teasing him. She leaned close.
“They’re the most beautiful boots I’ve ever seen,” he blurted.
He looked up at her, his eyes succulent with adoration of her for the ordeal she’d just put him through, and particularly for the obvious pleasure she’d taken in it. Belle looked down into those gorgeous eyes and laughed.
“My boots are filthy from the ride. I wouldn’t wish you to remove them until you’ve cleaned them—very well.”
Belle turned and stalked the few feet to a large armchair, feeling the soft silk embrace her bare body as she sat down. She stretched her legs out and presented her high-heeled, pointy-toed black leather boots, which were soaked through and muddy.
Andrew crawled to her and lowered his face to her filthy boots. Belle caught him before his mouth met the muddy leather. Her hand went into his long blond hair and she pulled.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” she said. “Is that fair, Andrew?”
“No, Madame,” he said. She released his hair. He went to get up as he reached for the fastening of his breeches; again, Belle shook her head.
With some difficulty, Andrew undressed on his knees, kicking off his own footwear first and then removing his breeches to reveal his ample erection, which was even larger than Belle had first thought. When Andrew’s tight top finally made it over his head, he discovered that Madame Belle’s knees were now folded neatly over the great pillowed arms of the chair, her thighs spread wide and her sex blatantly revealed, the smooth flesh pink with want and the center of her glistening and aromatic. Struggling to contain his hunger, Andrew bent sideways toward one of Madame Belle’s muddy boots.
“Please,” she said, slipping her hand into his hair again. “Please don’t play dumb. You know what you were asking—oh!” She guided his mouth to her sex and pulled his hair firmly as, obediently, Andrew began to lick.
He serviced Belle’s sex ably, licking from the sweet center of her opening up to the swollen bud of her clitoris, which drew great sighing moans from her, and later great shuddering gasps, as his tongue skillfully caressed it. His lips closed gently around her clitoris and he worked it eagerly with his tongue as her pleasure mounted.
“I wonder if you think you’re going to get that thing inside me?” she panted as she neared her orgasm. “I’ve never had a boy to play with before. I’ve always been on the bottom, Andrew. Do you think I’m still dying to get fucked, boy? Andrew, I asked you a question.”
She had timed it right, so that his mouth’s withdrawal from her sex to answer bought her several more seconds of pleasure. She did not want to climax too quickly; to do so would be to all but waste the subtle caresses of a very submissive man. Belle had never enjoyed such things before, and planned to savor them as long as she could.
“I believe Madame will do what she wishes,” said Andrew obediently. His mouth returned to its ministrations on her clitoris, and Belle pushed him back.
“Of course,” said Belle. “But do you think I want to get fucked? Andrew! I asked you a fucking question.”
Andrew drew back, his mouth dripping with Belle’s juices.
“Yes, Madame. I believe you do want to get fucked.”
“Mmmmmm.” Belle sighed. She laughed. “Just like a man…He thinks his cock rules the universe. Get me off, boy.” She was very close at that moment, and almost no malfeasance on Andrew’s part could have prevented an intense orgasm by Belle, but it gave her pleasure to order him to finish her. So often, as a bottom, she had been denied orgasm at the last minute. It invigorated her, now, to take as she wished.
Andrew obediently returned his mouth to her sex, and Belle relaxed into the strokes of his tongue as he serviced her clit. She pushed off her climax as long as she could, savoring the pleasure, but finally Andrew’s skills were more than she could resist. She came fiercely. One hand clawed her own thighs until she left great pink furrows; the other went snaking into Andrew’s hair and gripped him, forcing his head roughly against her sex as her pleasure mounted and her hips started to move. Andrew continued his service as the Madame, essentially, used him. Belle had never fucked a man’s face like that before. She came harder than she ever had.
