Mistress Gabrielle's "The Smell of Leather: Part 3"
She stepped back to admire how the soft light showed the red outline her hands made on his ass. He would be marked. “Look at that beautiful sweet ass of yours,” she told him but there was no way he could see, considering how tightly he was bound to the bench. “Your ass is cherry red baby boy,” she continued, “cherry red and ready to be used.”
The anticipation was making his head reel. He managed to squeak out another “yes.” And another, “Yes Mistress.” And another, “Please.”
She liked it when they said please. “Beg me.” She told him, “Beg me. Make me believe you want it.” He swallowed hard, “I want it. I want it.”
“Beg me like you mean it,” she said as she leaned in to whisper into his ear. “I don’t believe you.” He would scream it from the rooftop if he could. He would say it over and over and over until she believed every syllable.
“Please my owner, please use me. Use me please.” He raised his voice over the music so she could hear him clearly. “Please use me. You own me. Please.” He had to convince her. He had to.
“That’s more like it,” she said. “That’s what I want to hear.” Her hands trailed from the back of his neck down to the asscheeks, caressing him, teasing him, touching the fading marks with one hand while the other played down the side of his left hip. “Just waiting,” she told him, “just waiting for me to use you the way you need to be used, like the slut you are.”
“Yes, yes, I’m your slut,” he answered as both of her hands slid between his asscheeks. She was opening him up. He was breathing hard, he knew that she was going to use him at last. He felt her hands teasing the crack of his ass, he knew what was coming now. He wanted it so bad and she knew it. The teasing was interminable. With the music, the low light, his body tightly bound and the promise of what was to come, he was transported. He was right where she wanted him to be.
“Just waiting,” she continued,” just waiting for me to do something. Just waiting,” she told him,” waiting for me to open you up and split you apart.
His moans came faster now. His breathing quickened while inside his head he heard that insistent beat that seemed to keep time with his moans. He was strapped down, totally exposed and could barely remember who he was and what he was doing.
But she would remind him. With a gloved and lubed hand playing at the entrance to the most private part of his bound and abused body, she spoke to him. “Don’t worry my slutty boy, I’m going to open you up back there.” He moaned again, this time a low guttural plea, “Fuck me. Fuck your bitch.”
“You are my property baby boy. My bitch. My pussy boy.”
He felt himself giving in. What else could he do? He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything. And he was going to get it.
Stay tuned for the next installment...