Thoroughly Whipped

“A l-list, Maître?” I stuttered, unable to take my eyes away from his hand. He was huge.

“Hard limits are what you do not want me to do to you. Things too far out of your comfort zone.” Maître’s hips rolled slightly on the throne. I was transfixed at the seductive sight. His jaw clenched and his skin flushed at the pleasure he was bringing to himself. “Soft limits,” he said, his French accent thickening as he fell deeper into his pleasure. “Are things you may like to try on occasion, or if the opportunity is right. Anything not on those two lists is bon.”

Maître hissed and his hand started to work faster. I moved my hand between my legs, too turned on by his touching himself to think of anything but joining him.

“Stop,” Maître ordered. He turned on his throne, and his legs widened so I had a full view of his self-pleasure. My hand froze. “You will not touch yourself for the rest of the night.” Maître stroked his hand faster and faster, licking his lips. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see his face. I saw the tension building in his bare torso and the defined V that led to his crotch.

“You will kneel on that spot until I tell you to go home.” Every part of his being exuded carnal appetite and sin. “If you do not, then you do not return to me tomorrow night. You never come to NOX ever again. You leave now, and will forever have had only a glimpse of what would have awaited you if only you’d learned to submit and do as you are instructed.”

His silver eyes were locked on me, daring me to defy him. I moved my hand from my crotch. “Clasp them behind your back,” Maître said, nudging his head toward my hands.

One by one, I placed them behind my back, and I entwined my fingers. Maître worked his hand faster and faster over his length, never looking away from me as he brought himself closer to climax.

“You will sit like this for the rest of the night,” he repeated, then stilled, clenching his teeth and grunting as he came, semen landing on his tanned washboard stomach. Slightly breathless, but impossibly composed, he added, “And you will watch me come repeatedly until you are released.” He smirked. “You may think me a sadist.” He stroked himself again. “Maybe I am. That is for you to find out.”

As the night moved on, my legs grew numb and my eyes felt raw from having watched Maître masturbate four more times before me. Each time he had ordered that my hands stay behind my back. I didn’t know how long I could stand sitting like this. I was wet and so flustered I could barely function. Maître hadn’t said one more word to me, just sat on his throne, hard gaze locked on me, daring me to rebel.

Just when I felt I couldn’t take any more, the sound of a gong being hit vibrated through the room, making me jump. Maître had been watching me, cheek resting on his hand, for the past hour. He was testing me. Measuring how much I wanted this. Wanted him. Was willing to be under his control.

In this moment, I didn’t think I’d ever wanted anyone more.

“Rise,” he said when the sound of the gong stopped. I tried to move, but when I did, I found that my legs were completely dead from sitting in one position for too long. Maître came across the room as I attempted to get to my feet. Placing his hands on my arms, he hoisted me up. He was incredibly strong. I grimaced and willed myself not to moan as the blood that had been so harshly denied to my legs rushed into my muscles and veins like a dam breaking and swelling the rivers.

“Tomorrow,” Maître said. Just before he turned away, he said, “Maître Auguste.” He reached out and ran his finger down my cheek, over my mask, and down to my neck. His touch stole my breath. What was it about this man that made my own body betray me? “You will call me Maître Auguste.” The way he said Auguste wrapped around me like a Fall breeze threading through my hair.

He waited, with a steely gaze, for me to answer. “Yes, Maître Auguste.”

“Tomorrow, mon petit chaton. You and I…we shall play.”

Maître Auguste walked past his throne and toward a doorway that took him out of sight. The door behind me opened and Bunny walked in. She stopped dead when she saw me, flushed and exposed.

“This way,” she said. I followed her and tried to wrap my head around what had just happened. It felt like a dream. But when I thought back to his fingers inside me and the scream that had ripped from my throat as I collapsed against him, I recalled every single stroke with perfect clarity.