A sweet tale with only the lightest bit of kink. Male dominant, female submissive.

“Take off your clothes,” I whisper, biting your ear.

“And just what do you have in mind?” you respond, starting to lift your shirt over your head.

“Oh, there won’t be any need to talk,” I answer, pushing you down on the bed, face down. With a quick button & a zip, your pants and panties make quick work to the floor. Unsure of what might come next, you tentatively move your hands to the mechanism of your bra, unclasping it. You start to get up.

“Stay where you are,” I answer, and you drop back to the bed, doing that little ass-wiggle that I’m, still, not aware of whether you know you’re doing it or not.

I sense your body tense, starting with your ass, at the sound of a bottle opening. I chuckle . . . no, we won’t be exploring that just yet. I drip a generous amount of oil into one palm and then rub my hands together before working my way to the top of your shoulders.

Slowly, carefully, I search your back for the sore spots – carefully working my fingers into and around every time I hear a little gasp or a whimper. There are times that I don’t push too hard, but those are few. I want to force you to relax. I want to force you to feel good. And, truth be told, I like it when you whimper.

The massage travels from your shoulders to the mid-back, to the ribs, and back up to the shoulders. Then we’re onto the back of your neck – digging in, finding those little knots of tension, trying to release them – banish them to the ether.

I work my way to your lower back and find that I need more oil. Applying yet more pressure, I do not hold back — and there are even times that I feel that your body had no choice but to respond with actual relaxation.

Before touching your ass, I work my way up your spine and, again, focus on the back of your neck, and then the top of your shoulders, and then work my way back down your spine….all of the way down. My fingertips work between your cheeks, and, just for a second or two, I tease the other opening, before working my fingers into the flesh of your right cheek, then your left. Then back up your spine once again.

Stopping to get more oil, I disrobe, myself, and this time, as I work my fingers up your spine, I press my body against yours, letting my erect manhood press against your leg. Before I can feel you push back, though, I’ve removed myself and, again, am looking for, and attacking, knots in the back of your shoulderblades.

I pick up a sheet and place it over your body. From your toes, I start to pull, ever so slowly, marveling at the reaction this has over you. I think I actually watch you melt.

As soon as the sheet is no longer making any contact with you, I place it back over your body, tucking you in, before repeating. Again and again.

The fourth time, I can actually see you trying to dry hump the bed as your ass becomes visible. I decide that’s enough for right now.

I reach back for more massage oil and work your legs, your hamstrings, your calves, and then your feet. You make such wonderful noises between pleasure & pain as your feet are massaged. It’s such a treat for me.

Again, my hands work their way up the length of your back before I place the sheet over you. Three times, I slowly pull it off of you, tucking you in between each. By the third, the smell of your sex overpowers even the massage oil.

I start to touch your back with just my fingertips, traveling in a random pattern, as I exhale hot breath against your lower back.

I arrange myself so that I am sitting upon your ass. My fingers gently make circles around your temples before my fingers trace the ridges of your ears. I sense your breathing quicken.

And then I glide my body down, over your body, whispering “It’s time to turn over,” in your ear, but I linger, for just a second, allowing my breath to catch your ear.

You flip and I take your left wrist in my hands. Quickly, I place a cuff around it so that it’s secured to the bed. Then I take your left ankle, your right ankle, and right wrist, leaving you nude, spread eagle, open to me.

And then I blindfold you.

Another generous amount of massage oil and I work the front of your shoulders — but it’s not long before I’m playing with your nipples, making them hard, before massaging each breast.

My fingertips tease your skin, down your ribcage threatening to touch your sex, but I refrain. Then, from your toes, up the insides of your legs, I, again, travel to your pussy, but, again, I do not touch you there.

You whisper “touch me,” and I trace the valley between mound and thigh. And then I kneel over your torso and, again, trace the ridges of your ears.

Your breath catches.

I stand and work my way with light, tender touches until I’m at your sex, and this time, I do touch you.

Sitting Indian-style before you, I place my palm against the opening to heaven and press. You press back and I remove my hand. My thumbs start trace a line up either side of your labia. You gasp.

Minutes pass as I, simply, trace the opening of your hole with one thumb before briefly touching your clitoris and then repeating, on the other side, with my other thumb.

And then, with my left hand, I pull back the hood of that little button and, ever so slowly, stroke the little nubbin inside with a single finger before then using three. From the base to the tip of your exposed clit, I work my thumb, index, and middle finger, back and forth, until your entire body is trembling.

I keep just that motion until I worry that you may pass out, when I slow down, allowing my left hand to retreat, leaving you less exposed, and I place my right hand, palm down, over your sex until your breathing returns.

I can sense your want to please me – it’s a palpable need, pouring out of you. Yet you’re tied up.

I place the sheet over you, touching you all over, groping you through the cloth, before slowly pulling it off of you, exposing you. As I did with your back, I do it again and again and again, until I see your nipples harden when they’re exposed to the air . . . see your hips thrust just the tiniest bit to keep contact with the sheet as it exposes your sex . . . until I see that you’re ready for just a little bit more.

I pull out bamboo skewers and rubber bands . . . and after a little bit of fumbling, I place them about each nipple. I know these won’t hurt, just make you especially aware that they’re there…except when I twist them — which I try not to do too much. Well, maybe a little bit.

Then, I make the same arrangement upon your clit, forcing it exposed and open to me — but giving me both hands to work with. I pull out a vibrator. I pull out a dildo. And then I go to work.

At the lightest setting, I keep the vibrator pressed to your exposed love-button, barely letting it touch at times. And then I place the dildo deep inside of you. I fuck you with the phallus, allowing the vibrator to make more & more contact, until I turn up the power, reaching the highest setting, as I continue to pump the fake cock into you.

You scream out my name.

I continue my work.

And continue.

And continue.

Only when I can feel heat from the vibrator, in a fear that I’m about to truly overload it, do I stop the barrage. First, I withdraw the phallus and then I turn the vibrator down to the lowest setting, taking it off of your sex.

I unfasten a the rubber band about one end of the skewers over your sex and set your clitoris free, placing my hand over it. Then, each nipple is freed. I untie you.

“I hope you managed to relax a bit,” I say, slyly.