Alison's Wonderland. Alison Tyler

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СКАЧАТЬ her, his tongue working even as the pleasure in her clitoris turned to a sudden ache. The pleasure mounted to discomfort momentarily and then, as Andrew slowed his strokes and gave her a minute to recover, it merged back into pleasure, and Belle felt a new sensation growing.

      For all her unexpected lust for domination, Belle was still naive in many things.

      “Why aren’t you stopping?” she panted.

      Andrew only drew his tongue away from her for a moment.

      “You did not instruct me to,” he said, and returned to licking her clit.

      Belle went slack into the deep armchair, her eyes glassy with unexpected pleasure. Once, Belle had been bound over a Master’s lap as he used a vibrator on her until she succumbed to the onrushing pleasure-pain of a second and a third orgasm. But usually, when she was fucked, she was allowed one—if she was lucky enough to be allowed that at all. This was wholly different, the pleasure mounting as stimulation continued; she felt a momentary flash of guilt, feeling she should instruct Andrew to stop. She was very close to her second orgasm, unexpectedly shuddering all over with increasing pleasure, when, quite to her own surprise, she blurted: “You don’t have to.”

      Andrew looked up at Belle in confusion, the expression on his face going from rapt excitement and pleasured acceptance to something akin to panic. It was the first time Belle had ever seen the ecstasy of total submission on the face of another person. It gave her, simultaneously, a thundering sensation of happiness and the sharp taste of guilt for her own doubts.

      “Madame?”

      “You don’t have to stop when I come,” she said quickly, making her voice as sarcastic as possible. “You men always want to finish after you get us off a couple of times. I’m going to come till I’m finished, do you understand?”

      “Of course,” said Andrew breathlessly. “I would never stop until ordered to, Madame.” His eyes went hot as he looked up at her. “If I did, you’d be well within your rights to punish me.”

      Belle’s breath was coming short; she felt the buzzing high of power. Andrew was depending on her; as much as she desired to be bent and stretched and spread on her Master’s lap and bed and rack, Andrew wished to be here on his knees, servicing her until he was ordered to stop.

      She brought her leg down and tucked it between Andrew’s legs, pushing hard on his erect cock with her muddy spike heel.

      “I’ll already be punishing you,” she growled. “For enjoying yourself too much. Now, get me off again, boy, I’m far from finished with you.” To hear her own voice uttering such aggressive statements was unfamiliar and deeply erotic to Belle, and she realized perhaps for the first time that she was no longer a sexual servant, as she had been for some years, but something else entirely—or becoming something else, with every stroke of Andrew’s tongue.

      “Yes, Madame,” he said breathlessly, and lowered his face back to her sex.

      Belle cried out as she came for a second time, and a third. Only then did she let him enact the ritual of cleaning her boots, from top to toe to spike heel, before he removed them. And then, with her appetite whetted, Madame Belle took her servant to bed.

      As it turned out, she did let Andrew’s cock inside her—and a mammoth thing it was, sliding into her at a variety of angles as she instructed him to raise and lower himself for her exact satisfaction based not on his desires, or his pleasure or even his physical capacity—she pushed his thigh muscles almost to the breaking point, multiple times—but on the angle at which Madame most eagerly wished to enjoy Andrew’s cock.

      Good Lord, she discovered, she really did have a G-spot! And Andrew’s cock hit it perfectly, provided he stood at the edge of the four-poster bed with one foot on the mattress and one on the floor, and Belle reclined with one leg over his shoulder. She used him that way, commanding him not to come, until his face went red and his thigh muscles rubbery. Only then, when she’d exhausted both herself and her slave, did Madame Belle relax alongside her servant, relishing the feel of his naked body against her and the hardness of his cock, still moist from her, in her hand. She stroked it rhythmically and caressed it with her long, slender fingers.

      Perhaps it was the very late hour and the long journey and her own physical satisfaction that made her feel so drunk with excitement.

      Or perhaps it was the pleasure of power over her servant that made Madame Belle say to Andrew: “I could let you come.”

      “Yes, Mistress,” he said, his voice thick with hunger and weak with submission. “If you wished to do so.”

      She stroked her fingers up and down his wet cock, alternately caressing and gripping it, showing the extensive skills at manual pleasuring she had gained from her long, long time on her knees. So many times she’d been engaged to pleasure a man with her hands, and she knew Andrew was very, very close. Her habit was, unquestionably, to satisfy the man immediately, per her role in life. But now she felt differently. It would have taken a few firm strokes of her hand, or the permission for Andrew to mount her again and fuck her for his pleasure, or a few quick slurps of her mouth—which was even now watering. She could even just issue a dismissive word that would allow Andrew to satisfy himself: “Stroke,” or “Jerk,” or “Finish” or, most simply, “Come.”

      But she did not say any of these words, or pump Andrew’s cock with her hand, or order him back into her or go down to suck him, though she very badly wanted to. It was the first time she had ever been with a man without going down on him. It would be the first time, she decided, that she had ever been with a man when he did not come.

      Belle sighed and laughed musically. She removed her hand from Andrew’s cock and stretched her naked body out across the great expanse of the bed. She’d like it all to herself, she decided, and as delicious as Andrew was, she was finished with him.

      “I don’t think so,” she told him. “Go now. Wake me in the morning.”

      “Yes, Madame,” said Andrew. “May I kiss you goodbye?”

      She looked at him pleasantly.

      “No,” she said.

      “Yes, Madame.” He got out of her bed and stood beside her, his cock erect and pink with effort, still glistening with her. Belle yawned and closed her eyes.

      “May I ask a question?”

      “What is it?” said Belle flatly, without opening her eyes.

      “Did Madame enjoy herself?”

      Belle’s eyes popped open; she looked Andrew up and down.

      She had enjoyed herself very much; she was almost terrified by the pleasure. She’d had more orgasms than she’d ever been allowed during any other tryst throughout her long life as a submissive, or before, when she’d gone to bed with men on equal footing, when she’d had, in fact, very few orgasms. But the vast physical pleasure she’d experienced was as nothing compared to the overwhelming intoxication of power. She felt ecstatic over the fact that she was being asked—and could answer as she wished, something she’d never been able to do the dozens of times she’d been asked before she became kinky, when she’d always said yes out of politeness, often elaborating with great vigor despite being vaguely dissatisfied.

      Now, her body soft and relaxed with many orgasms, her satisfaction overpowering, she could answer as it pleased СКАЧАТЬ