17: The Submissive Butler(5)

Cecilia reached into the display cabinet, drawing out a strip of dark leather that gleamed under the low light. The collar fastened around his throat with a soft click, a sound that echoed louder in his mind than in the room. His breath hitched as she adjusted it snugly, just tight enough for him to feel it when he swallowed.

She walked back over to the display cabinet which was filled with all manner of BDSM toys. His eyes widened as he took in the crop, the paddles, the array of clamps and cuffs.

"Choose one," she said simply, gesturing to the showcase.

He swallowed hard, trying to decide between the imposing-looking toys. In the end, he reached for a pair of nipple clamps, knowing they would be painful but bearable.

Cecilia took them from him, a smirk playing on her lips. "Good choice," she purred.

She snapped the clamps onto his nipples, making him cry out at the sudden, intense pain. He could feel his erection growing harder still, the pain and pleasure intertwining deliciously.

But Cecilia wasn't done with him yet. She grabbed a blindfold from another drawer and fastened it over his eyes, plunging him into darkness.

Suddenly, he couldn't see anything, couldn't anticipate what would come next. The loss of sight only seemed to heighten his other senses, and he could hear her moving around him, opening drawers, setting things down.

He jumped as he felt her fingers on his chest again, tracing over the clamps. She tweaked them roughly, making him whimper.

Then her touch was gone, replaced by the sharp smack of a crop against his inner thigh. He yelped at the sting, instinctively trying to pull away, but the cuffs held him firmly in place.

The crop struck again and again, each blow making him jerk and writhe. He could feel his orgasm building, the pain and humiliation stoking the fire in his belly.

Cecilia seemed to sense it too, her blows becoming more focused on his most sensitive areas. The crop landed on his manhood, making him scream. Then between his legs, on his balls, bringing tears to his blindfolded eyes.

"You will not come," she reminded him harshly. "Not until I allow it."

He could only moan in response, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding back. The crop struck his ass, then his thighs again, leaving stinging welts in its wake.

Cecilia continued her relentless assault, the crop raining down on his battered flesh. He could feel every inch of his skin screaming, every nerve ending alight with pain.

But even through the agony, he could feel the twisted pleasure building inside him, coiling tighter and tighter in his gut. His manhood throbbed between his legs, hard and aching for release.

He tried to focus on his breathing, to center himself and ride out the waves of sensation. But it was getting harder and harder to think, to do anything but feel.

The crop landed on his nipples, making the clamps bite into his flesh even more cruelly. He let out a hoarse cry, his head falling back against the cross.

Suddenly, the crop was gone, replaced by something else. Something wet and warm, gliding over his skin.

A tongue.

Cecilia was licking at his wounds, tracing the welts and bruises she had left behind. Her mouth felt like heaven against his raw skin, soothing the pain even as it stoked the fire within him.

He shivered as she worked her way down his body, her tongue delving into every crevice. When she reached his manhood, he thought he might die from the intensity of it.

But she only gave him a teasing lick before moving on, leaving him aching and empty. He whimpered needily, desperate for more of her touch.

"Please," he gasped out, forgetting himself in the heat of the moment.

Cecilia paused, and he felt a chill run down his spine. Had he broken the rules? Had he spoken out of turn?

But then she was moving again, her hands replacing her mouth as she explored his body. Her fingers delved into the cleft of his ass, probing gently at his hole.

He tensed up instinctively, not used to this kind of touch. But Cecilia didn't seem to mind, her fingers pushing in deeper.

When she hit that spot inside him, the one that made him see stars, he couldn't hold back his scream. It echoed off the walls of the room, a primal sound of pleasure and pain.

Cecilia seemed to like that, her fingers moving faster, harder. He could feel himself climbing higher and higher, the pleasure cresting within him like a tidal wave.

Just as he thought he might explode, she pulled away completely. He cried out at the loss, his body trembling with need.

"Please," he whimpered again, unable to help himself. "Please Mistress, I need..."

"What do you need?" she asked, her voice deceptively soft.

"I need to come," he begged shamelessly. "Please let me come for you, Mistress."

She was silent for a long moment, and he held his breath, waiting for her verdict. Finally, she spoke.

"Not yet," she said firmly. "You will wait until I allow it."

He let out a broken sob, his entire body aching with denied release. But he knew better than to argue.

"Are you my good boy?" she asked, voice low and dangerous.

"Yes, Mistress," he gasped out, his voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm your good boy."

She smiled then, a slow, wicked curve of her lips. "I know you are."

She had put him through a grueling session, pushing him to his limits both physically and mentally. But he had endured it all, taking everything she had given him with grace and devotion.

Now, it was time for his reward.

"You have really been a very good boy today," she said, her voice low and approving. "And good boys deserve a treat."

Relief shuddered through him.

Cecilia poured herself a glass of wine, the liquid catching the light like a dark ruby. She took a slow sip, eyes never leaving him.

“Look at you,” she said with a faint, knowing smile. “Obedient. Humbled. Exactly where you should be.”

She reached down, gripping his chin and forcing his gaze up to meet hers. "You may stroke your penis. But you don't get to cum until I say so. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," he replied quickly, his voice shaking with excitement and nerves. "Thank you, Mistress."

She released him and stepped back, watching him intently as he reached down to take himself in hand. His manhood was already hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He began to stroke himself slowly, his hand moving up and down the shaft with a steady rhythm.

"Thank you, Mistress," he panted out, his voice raw and desperate. "Thank you for forgiving me, for allowing me this pleasure."

"Faster," she ordered, her tone sharp. "I want to see you working for your reward."

He obeyed immediately, his hand moving faster, pumping his manhood with increasing urgency. She could see the pleasure building in him, the way his muscles tensed and twitched with each stroke.

"Good boy," she purred, watching him intently. "Keep going. Don't you dare stop until I tell you to."

He nodded, panting out his affirmation. "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

She settled back into her chair, picking up her glass of wine and sipping at it as she watched her submissive work himself towards his climax. She knew she was pushing him, keeping him on the edge of orgasm for as long as possible, but that was part of the game. She wanted to see how far she could push him, how much he could take before he finally broke.

And she had a feeling he could take quite a lot.

"Don't you dare cum," she reminded him, her tone firm and warning. "Not until I give you permission."

"No, Mistress," he gasped out, his hand moving frantically now, his hips bucking into his touch. "I won't. I promise."

She smiled, taking another sip of her wine as she watched him struggle to hold back his orgasm. It was a beautiful sight, really, the power she held over him, the way he was completely at her mercy.

"Cum for me," she ordered, her voice firm. "Show me how grateful you are for my forgiveness."

He let out a broken sob, his hand moving frantically over his manhood. "Thank you, Mistress, thank you, Mistress, THANK YOU, MISTRESS!"

With a final, guttural cry, he reached his peak. His manhood jerked and pulsed as he came, spilling his seed onto the floor beneath him. He kept stroking even as he orgasmed, drawing out his pleasure for as long as possible.

"Thank you, Mistress," he gasped out, his voice wrecked and hoarse. "Thank you, Mistress, thank you, Mistress..."

He collapsed forward, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. She could see the blissful, almost transcendent expression on his face, the way he seemed to float in a sea of endorphins and satisfaction.

"You did well," she said softly, setting her wine aside and rising from her chair. "Such a good boy."

She stepped closer to him, running a hand over his hair, his sweat-slicked back. He leaned into her touch, nuzzling against her palm like a contented kitten.

She knew this feeling would fade eventually, that the high of his orgasm would give way to the inevitable comedown. But for now, in this moment, he was perfect. He was hers.

And that was all that mattered.