Hope

I could feel the cold hardwood floor pressing punishingly into my naked shins and knees, the warmth from my palms on my thighs, my chest expanding, and the black lacy blindfold squeezing my head and forcing my eyes shut. The room smelled strongly of vanilla, a smell I had grown to associate with her. It is not her scent, but the one she decorates the room with when she plays with me.

Between the sound of blood rushing past my ears and my heart slamming into my ribcage, I could now faintly hear the familiar click of heels. They were far away, but hers and approaching. The melodic taps rang in my head like gunshots, and my breathing stopped in anticipation.

Her footsteps echoed for what felt like forever before I heard the door open. I gasped, my whole body tensing as a reaction to her presence. 

The door closed and her heels banged across the floor. The gunshots got closer and closer, like a warning that I was in danger, until they stopped mere inches away from my legs.

I took a deep breath of the air she brought with her, absorbing the scent. Expensive body lotion and vanilla, nothing hers, nothing another woman couldn’t smell like. And yet, I knew it was on her skin. That is what it needed to feel special.

I could imagine her perfectly. Her elegant feet in impossibly sharp stilettos, holding her endless toned legs up. They, in turn, led to her flared hips and ample buttocks that made it their personal goals to highlight the absurdity of her thin core. Her ribs visible and drawing attention away from her perfect chest. I never go to see her chest bare. I never deserved to. I imagined her slender arms, groomed armpits, peeking collarbones and swanlike neck. Her long, pitch-black hair framing her snow-white face like it is the Mona Lisa. But she could never compare to my mistress. Her pink lips were pressed in a thin line as her dark eyes looked down at me. I hoped she was looking at me.

I wanted to greet her. To profess my devotion to her. To show her my piety. But she never allowed me to speak first, so I just breathed unsteadily and silently hoped she would use me as she saw fit.

The cold tip of a leather crop caressed my chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It lifted off and then stung me before I even realised it had pulled away.

I moaned shamelessly, precum appearing on my already erect cock. She didn’t speak. That was a good sign. It meant I was acceptable.

Another flick. And another. And more. Each one leaving me gasping and my skin burning. The slaps echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls with my breaths, forming a symphony of masochistic and desperate sounds. The soundtrack of my devotion to her.

After too short a time she stopped. Although I could feel her slaps forever and it still wouldn’t be enough. My whole chest ached, undoubtebly red.

“You look pretty like this.” Her voice came out calm, with marginal interest. It was the sweetest thing I had heard in my entire life. A tear wetted my blindfold.

“Thank you, Mistress.” I answered through quiet sobs.

All I heard was low rustling before her soft foot pressed on my chest, reactivating the burning she had caused with the crop.

“Lay down.”

My body obeyed before my brain even processed the command. Its permission didn’t matter when her order was given. At times I feared she might tell my heart to stop beating. At times I also feared it would obey. At times I feared it wouldn’t.

Her weight shifted onto my chest, pressing it under her pristine sole. I groaned as she shifted around and pressed different parts of my upper body. I was hyper-aware of the difference between her hot skin and my cold cock, the slick precum coating it aiding in its heat transfer. It never felt warm with her in the room. It wasn’t allowed to.

Her foot moved up to my mouth, where she stepped on me again. I could taste the coconut in her lotion and smell the vanilla rolling off of her skin.

“Lick.” The same calm voice that I dreamt of took control of my tongue.

My lips parted, and it dragged slowly across the arch of her foot. It was divine. So sweet and soft, as if her skin was rewarding me with its taste. I kissed the pad. She did not like that, her foot pulling away was the sign.

“I said ‘lick’, not ‘kiss’.” Her voice came in, stern and cold, at the same time as her crop hit my ribs.

“I apologise, Mistress."

Another tear wet my blindfold as I continued licking her foot. Over the pad and on to her toes. I licked each one individually, moaning when my tongue dragged between the digits. My cock was pulsing now, a pool of precum gathering at its base.

She took her foot away, and my heart lurched. Did my stupid mistake upset her that much? Was it over? How could I live with myself? Maybe I should just…

I felt a current of air moving over my body. I heard her knees plant on either side of my head. I heard a zipper, and after a split second her wet folds were on my face. I could finally breathe again. The air expanding my chest felt like my first breath ever. This scent was even more intoxicating than the one of her feet. Here, she finally smelled unique, just as she tasted- sweet. Sweeter than anything else on earth. I was sure of it.

Her juices were coating my closed lips, a testament to her desire. I couldn’t hold back the sob of gratitude that bubbled in my throat. Her fingers tugged on my hair harshly, and her sharp nails dug into my scalp.

“Lick.” It came out barely breathless. Maybe she still wanted me.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

My tongue glided across her folds, funnelling her sweet nectar into my mouth and down my greedy throat. It flattened on her clit and applied pressure to the protruding pearl. She gasped, and I moaned at the sound of her breath. 

I kept licking up and down her, stopping to give extra attention to her nub. Even more precum gathered around my cock, spilling down my thighs and dripping onto the floor. Just as more juices ran down my face, mixing in with my tears. She was growing more and more breathless, her soft gasps making my head spin.

I could see us. My naked body was lying down on the ground, limbs completely immobile despite every muscle tensing, cock pointing at the ceiling, glistening with my lust for her. My face covered by her body, knees planted firmly on the ground, with her legs spread to accommodate my head between them. Her spine was probably arching in pleasure. I hope it was. And her black hair falling on all sides of her face, hiding her from the rest of the empty room. Not even the walls got to see her cum.

“Inside.” She whispered, and my tongue slipped into her tight hole. I could feel the pressure around it as more juices flowed into my mouth. I kept moaning and curling my tongue against her walls, trying to satisfy her, to make her love me.

“Good. Right there. Don’t stop.”

Her voice was breathless and strained because of me. I swear I blacked out for a second when I heard it. The pressure around my tongue increased as her muscles tensed and she pulled my hair harder. She was close, and I couldn’t help but cry at the idea of bringing her pleasure.

And then it all snapped. She took in a sharp, full breath, gasping into the empty room. Her walls fluttered around my tongue and snapped at its base as if trying to rip it out. If only it would listen and go with her. That would surely make her happy.

More juices flowed into my mouth as if they were trying to drown me. I couldn’t swallow them all. And my stupid lungs just wouldn’t accept them. So I choked under her weight as she gasped, almost moaning. Even while I was coughing and drowning, she still rode my face. I couldn’t believe how merciful she was. To still use me even when I was failing her.

After what felt like mere fleeting moments, she got off me at once. I first lamented the loss of her heat. Then I coughed violently, my worthless body rejecting her fluids.

It took me a couple of moments to calm down. She waited patiently, probably staring at me with disappointment in her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Mistress.” 

I said through sobs after my voice came back to me, meek and strained with sorrow.

“It’s ok.” She said, her usual tone back. “You still performed… adequately.”

I nodded slowly. “Thank you, Mistress. I will do better next time.”

She hummed. Neither approving nor disapproving.

She knelt next to me and whispered into my ear.

“Cum.”

And so I did. I pumped my hips into the air, hands firmly planted on my sides, moaning through my orgasm, the intensity not really matching my reaction. More and more spurts left me weakly, flowing down my cock. She was hopefully watching me the entire time. Hopefully with no disdain for my dirty being.

“You know the rules.” Her stern voice broke my ragged breathing that had come after my orgasm.

“Yes, Mistress.”

I could hear her putting her shoes back on. Gunshots banged on the floor, getting increasingly farther away from me, still lying on the ground. The door opened and after a moment or two closed again.

I took a deep, grounding breath before removing my blindfold. Another part of my heart died again when she wasn’t there. I couldn’t stop hoping one day she would stay behind.