them over the slight ridges the crop has raised. I take the crop and slide it between his trembling thighs. The flat leather end nudges his balls; I push them to and fro while the handle slides over his perineum.
Now the noises he makes are different, low sighs and Os of pleasure. ‘Ahhh, nice,’ he manages to vocalise.
I angle the handle upwards so it parts the cheeks of his bottom, and push it up into the cleft. I grind it round and round, closer in. I wish I could see his face now. I pull the rest of the instrument through his thighs and press the handle up against his arsehole.
‘Oh God,’ he says harshly, urgently. ‘What are you doing, Soph?’
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ I twist the handle against that helpless bud.
‘Lube? Maybe? If you’re … you know. If that’s what you want to do to me.’
I laugh a cruel domme-ish laugh. ‘Relax. I’m not going to bugger you. Not yet.’
I put the crop away and move around to face him. He looks strained and flushed, his normally pale face florid and shiny. His eyes are bulbous and staring.
‘Sophie, please,’ he whispers.
I see his cock standing erect, reaching all the way up to his navel. ‘You want something?’ My hand hovers around it, never quite touching it.
‘Oh yes, touch it.’
‘I think you’ve forgotten the formalities, haven’t you?’ I wave my fingers, trying to achieve a fanning effect that he will feel.
‘Please, ma’am, please touch my cock.’
‘I don’t think you deserve it.’
I graze the swollen head, barely, with my fingernails. He convulses, shuddering out a long sigh.
‘Like that, you mean?’
‘Harder, please, ma’am, grab it, squeeze it, please.’
I drop to my knees and breathe on it.
‘Oh God, you bitch!’
‘That’s no way to talk to your mistress.’ I reach around and smack his arse, then pour more hot breath on his shaft and his tight, hard balls.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am! I hate being teased. I hate not being in control. Oh God, please suck it.’
He undermines his plea by trying to twist away from me, presenting me with a pale flank instead. I smack him again and hold him by the hips, enjoying the latent power held captive under my palms.
With the very tippy-tip of my tongue I draw a slow upward line from his root to his head. I make it last. He tries to throw me off course, thrusting into my face, but he can’t get the purchase he needs to succeed.
I laugh as I lick, pinching into his hips, wriggling my rubber-cased arse where he can’t fail to see it. I give a taunting little flourish of tongue when I reach his frenulum and then pop off and back right away, smiling at the pained lines on his forehead.
‘Oh Christ, Sophie, please …’
‘Open your eyes. I’ve got something to show you.’
Once his gaze is satisfactorily level, I turn around and bend over, feeling my bum cheeks strain against the constricting rubber until I worry it might split. But it doesn’t and I spread them as wide as I can and shake them, then put my hands flat against them, pressing my fingertips in to the taut shiny-black second skin, peering up at him from between my legs.
‘Come over here. Let me out of this,’ he says.
‘You still haven’t got that quite right, have you?’
I straighten up and jump around to face him. I pull up a chair, some kind of bondage device with cuffs on the arms and legs, but I ignore those, sit myself down and sprawl with my legs over the sides.
‘And guess what?’ I reach down to my crotch. Velcro tears asunder, revealing my sex. ‘Easy access! Good, eh?’
‘Oh God.’ He stumbles forwards when I put my hand inside the dark, furtive opening and start to rub.
‘Ooh, juicy. I must have enjoyed whipping you more than I realised. Actually, it’s probably the rubber. So tight and hot, holding me in, clinging.’ I lift my fingers to my mouth and suck them.
He looks as if he might faint, all that colour draining away. The stiff baton obscuring his lower abdomen must be getting uncomfortable now.
But that’s not my problem, is it?
‘Think I’ll pick myself a vibrator,’ I say casually, strolling up to the toy cupboard to select a nice number with a clitoral stimulator. ‘This’ll do.’
I resume my legs akimbo posture, switch on the vibe and push it slowly and cleanly up inside my cunt, holding Lloyd’s eyes every second of the way.
‘Can you see it going in? Do you wish that was your cock?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he whispers, transfixed.
‘Well, it isn’t going to be. Not tonight. Your cock gets nothing tonight. It’s spoilt and overindulged. It needs to learn to take turns.’
His lips are turned down and he’s breathing heavily. He looks half crushed, half homicidal. I’m quite relieved that the cuffs are so effective.
The vibe slides in to the hilt and the clit buzzer begins its work. I push and thrust with it, grinding my hips in the chair, throwing back my head and losing myself in the sensation. Every now and again, I peek over to look at Lloyd.
‘Open your eyes! You have to watch this!’
‘I can’t … I’m so hard … please …’
‘You concede then?’
He wrenches up his eyelids. ‘No I fucking well don’t.’
‘Watch then.’
I work myself well and thoroughly, making sure my G-spot gets plenty of attention, letting the vibrations pulse gently through my swelling clit. I get close, and then I pull the thing out, wanting more of Lloyd’s desperation and frustration before I come.
‘I preferred when you were whacking me!’ he yelps when I plunge the vibrator back in. ‘This is way more cruel.’
‘So sorry.’ But the murmur is a reflex, not sincere, because I am too focused now on the tide lapping slowly forwards once more, creeping up, getting ready.
When I come, I try not to make a sound but just let the breath ebb from my body, controlled, unhurried. Although my eyelids flutter, I can still see most of what Lloyd is doing and it intensifies my pleasure to know that he is in his predicament, restrained and erect and raring to fuck me.
‘I think,’ I say, sounding slightly drunk as I try to swing my legs back over the chair arms, ‘it’s
