The Boss: you’ll come when I say you can, and not before…

4 min read

Punishment and pleasure. Podcast written by Jaiden MyErotica, read by Lora Vestaloyne

“You’re the boss, honey.” He said it — and not for the first time. But right now it’s different. Usually, we’ll share a look that tells me he’s not joking, even if the friends we’re hanging out with think it’s hilarious. If only they knew, huh? This time, however, the joke appears to be on me.

I roll my eyes, smile, and reply, “Yes, honey, I am.” More laughter. If anybody else notices the side-eye I give him, they don’t say. But he sees it.

We stay another couple of hours, and then take a cab home. In total silence. As he pays the driver, I walk up to our front door, head inside. When he reaches it, he finds it shut. I wait a few minutes. As expected, I find him on his knees on the front porch, head bowed. I wait another minute. He doesn’t dare to look up at me.

“Naked,” I say, and close the door again.

Again I wait, battling the urge to spy on him through the viewing lens set in the door. I’m tempted to leave him outside all night, or at least another hour, just to test his loyalty… his obedience. But my own impatience gets the better of me, like an itch. The five minutes I wait are agony, then I open the door and take in the sight of him in the same pose as before, but now totally naked. Lit by the stark security lamp, his hard body is a mass of light and shadow, his arousal betrayed by his hard, jutting cock.

His clothes are folded in a neat pile — nothing to criticize there. But I’m a master — or mistress, rather — at this game. He knows I’ll find something. I turn on my heel, walk back inside without a word. He pauses, anticipating my command. “Hurry up,” I bark, “don’t keep me waiting.”

He follows me upstairs. “Down, boy!” I snap, and he drops to all fours, crawling in my wake. I remove my dress, which leaves me in sleek black panties and heels. I strut around, tormenting him. “Up!” I snap my fingers, like I’m ordering a dog to beg, and he kneels up. My crotch is just inches from his face but he makes no move to touch me, nor himself. His hands rest passively on his thighs, so close yet so far from his twitching cock.

I get the cuffs, heavy black leather, and bind his wrists behind his back, no willpower required now. But then I tell him, “You’ll cum when I say you can, and not before.” Now I’ve said it, he won’t be able to think about anything else. His dick looks so swollen, so engorged, almost painful.

I fetch the crop he bought me for my birthday, long, black and slender with a jeweled handle. I wasn’t pleased when I first saw it, thought it was just for show; then when I tested it, I realized how beautifully crafted it was — the perfect weight and balance, with a wicked bite… I flex it, see him flinch despite himself, and swat him on the thigh for that little sin. It leaves a cute pink line of heat so I lay on another, right next to it. This time he holds steady.

I could spend another hour punishing him, but the truth is, I’m horny as hell, my patience stretched to the limit. I squat down to straddle him, feeding a nipple into his mouth, rubbing myself against his cock through my panties, the crotch soaked with my juices.

I stand up, in his face again, grabbing a handful of hair to pull him against me. As I grind, he licks me through the tight-stretched fabric, tongue tracing the contours of my labia and slit. Then, slowly, he uses his teeth to pull them down. Frustrated, I take over as he reaches my thigh, giving him another sharp taste of my crop as I step out of them.

I sit right on the edge of the bed, legs splayed and hips angled for maximum pleasure. He goes down on my pussy, taking it slow, lapping at my outer labia, gently sucking on the flesh, while avoiding my slit. As my clit begins to throb, I squirm and grind, trying to coax him into licking me deeper. I could order him to do so, maybe even sink down on his straining prick, fuck us both to a climax in seconds. Instead I relax, and let him do it his way.

When the very tip of his tongue finally touches my clit, my entire body stiffens. For a moment, it’s a weird sensation, like my mind is refusing to believe it’s happening, even while every nerve is screaming out the fact. But he keeps licking, tongue grazing my slit, then dipping inside of me. For as long as I can, I resist the urge to grab his hair, but as he sucks on my swollen bud I pull his head against me, thighs clamped on either side as I hump his face. I let him pause for breath; the instant he licks me again, I’m cumming against his mouth — and his tongue doesn’t quit until I can’t cum any more. But I’m still not done teasing him.

I push him on the bed, wrists cuffed to the headboard. Then I straddle him, and whisper in his ear that if I feel his cock inside of me, the fun will be over, and he’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight. He groans, frustrated, but as I move on top of him, grinding my clit against his shaft, he resists temptation. Even when I maneuver myself so his cockhead is touched right up against my pussy opening, he shifts a little, pulling away from the danger zone.

It takes a while but when I finally orgasm from the hot friction between us, it shakes me to my core. I plant a tender kiss on his nose, tell him to go for it, and the next moment, he’s cumming too, bathing my slit with his cream before he even has a chance to push inside of me. I slither up his body, leaving a wet trail, then squat over his face, letting him taste our joint pleasure as I release his bonds.

“One last thing…” I say wickedly, as he sees the crop in my hand again. He’s redeemed himself but still needs one final reminder of who’s boss. I play the tip over his body, seeing him tense as it teases his sensitized cock. Then as he turns around I see one butt-cheek is unmarked. I lay two quick, sharp strokes on it, criss-crossing them to leave a deep pink X, like a kinky kiss…

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