X Rated Reads Free Stories

I was lost in a daze. Miss Monica’s footsteps had drifted into the distance and my emotions went into overload. I wanted her back. Her presence had electrified me - her aroma, her aura, everything. It was those same feelings that always swept over me in our calls. I began to feel every sinew of my body, a coolness touching the skin and bouncing back against the burning inside. “On edge” wouldn’t begin to describe the sensations or my yearning. Wanting her breath in my ear – taunting – teasing – guiding me down an ever increasing path of begging and waiting.

The echo of a first step didn’t even register. The second heel click invaded my consciousness. The third and louder sound snapped me out of mesmeric daze not sure at all how much time had passed. But Miss Monica was coming back! My heart pulsed, my buttocks and thighs clenched and a warmth mushroomed inside me.

I heard her pause at the door, then the sound of the bolt pulling back. Another pause. Then the sound of the bolt sliding back into place – locked. I gasped. It was now. Now I could be with Miss Monica again.

Mild laughter mocked my thoughts. “Not yet, boytoy –not yet.”

And with that, the footsteps disappeared down the hall and she was gone yet again leaving me in agony. Miss Monica knew I wanted my Mistress so so bad. She knew how much I craved her even if it was just presence and nothing else. She knew and she denied me.

The feeling of let down and dismay crept into my mind. I had let hope and visualization carry me to this moment and perhaps too far. Instead there was now a certainty that I had absolutely no control over my destiny. That this destiny was all in Miss Monica’s hands, at her whim. I didn’t know how to respond – my senses were in turmoil.

“What’s going on in your mind, my little boytoy?” Miss Monica’s voice cut sharply through the silence. I’m not quite sure if the immersion of turmoil had desensitized my hearing or whether Miss Monica had somehow imperceptibly opened the door and entered the room. Perhaps it was both but the voice and question came as a shock out of nowhere.

The shock prevented me from responding right away. As I tried to form a thought I heard her heels coming across the room. “Come on my boytoy surely you haven’t been isolated THAT long that you’ve lost your voice – hmmm?” she teased.

“I, I, I missed you Miss Monica,” I stammered, barely able pull together simple words.

“Oh boytoy, really, is that all?” She tormented now. “I thought for sure there was much more in that brain of yours than that! Of course you missed me. I own you. Now let’s try again shall we? What’s going on in that mind?” she asked with a condescending authority that made me feel small. It was Miss Monica’s power fueling the unnerved feeling.

“Well, I, um, was starting to feel a little lost. Not knowing when you might return and it sort of made me sad…..” The words gushed out as if a boy not a man were speaking. Not whimpering but forlorn, when your hopes or expectations have been dashed.

“Better, my boytoy – much better. And why do you think you were feeling lost and sad?” she inquired with a tone that was both inquisitive yet knowing.

“I think it’s because I want your presence so badly and feel the power of your control over me.”

“Think? Want?” Rhetorical questions for sure.

“No, you’re right Miss Monica. I know and I need. I need you so badly and when you’re gone it makes me ache for you and crave your return.”

“Ahhh good, my boytoy, very good.” It was then I felt the whisper of her fingers tracing over my back. The downward motion sent tingles all over. My buttocks and groin clenched. She leaned in coming within a whisker of my ear and whispered “very goooood, my boytoy!”

Then suddenly - slap - her hand came down on one butt cheek. Not painfully but pleasurably. This moment I was in heaven, absolute heaven.

“We need to a little preparation before we REALLY get started,” she said.

Really get started? What did she mean by that?

As that thought wandered through my already swimming brain I felt the clasps attaching me to the St. Andrews Cross being unhooked. Frankly I had almost forgotten being restrained here. My arms felt relief as the blood reversed its flow and direction. My fingers tingled with the renewed warmth. When my ankles were released I was led by the hand and stumbled through the blind moment of walking with no certainty of where I was going. As the movement returned to my body I could still feel the leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles giving me a strange sense of comfort.

Miss Monica let go of my wrist and walked away. I shifted, again on edge, waiting, uncertain, acutely aware of the silence in the room.

“Stand with your legs apart,” she directed, with an almost imperceptible laugh. I could feel my cock giving that telltale sign of swelling. Not erect but larger. Surely she sensed how on edge I was. “Take of the mask.”

It had felt like ages in the blackness - having smelt her scent, feeling her breath on my ear, the touch of her hands both subtle and firm. All those impressions of her without seeing yet longing to see.

I shuffled. I fumbled and removed the mask. It took some time to regain my focus, as the light of the room, even though low, pierced my previously unstimulated eyes. Then as if out of a mirage there was the beautiful Miss Monica.

She sat in a high backed wooden chair wearing the red blouse and skirt with her legs seductively crossed making the skirt taut around her hips. My eyes took in the whole sight and I let out a breath and a sigh. Almost a whimper at the gratification of being able to see Miss Monica again.

Here was my most beautiful Mistress and Domina before me. How lucky I was to be in her presence. Her crossed leg began to sway slightly while at the same time she reached for the bag I had brought with me. As part of my preparation Miss Monica had instructed me to go to a particular store and buy a pair of stockings. Black, very black and luxuriously silky.

Miss Monica pulled out the packaged stockings in their plastic and cardboard wrapping and held them out to me.

“Take them out.”

I practically grabbed, then my hands fumbled with the tightly sealed plastic. My mind raced again in wonder as to what was next. Searching searching – what could be next? I dug at the plastic with no results.

“Use-your-teeth, silly boy,” she said with slow torment. “But don’t slobber over my lovely new stockings and don’t you dare snag them or you’ll pay the price for that indiscretion!”

Finally I pierced through the package and successfully removed the stockings.

“Hand them to me.” Miss Monica reached out and her fingers intentionally grazed mine. The touch sent another shock through my already pulsating body.

“Stand back,” she said, but I was frozen, transfixed by the closeness and lasting touch of her fingers that had been left on my skin and in many ways all of me. I didn’t move.

“DO AS YOUR TOLD!” Came a sharp command. Snapping out of my haze I stepped back.

“One more. One more step. Spread those legs.” This time I complied immediately.

“We’ll deal with that little indiscretion of not following my instruction immediately in little bit. For now just watch, my naughty boytoy!”

I stood helpless and gazed over her beauty. Miss Monica pulled up her skirt and placed her right leg on the seat of the chair. I could see the beginning of the laced top of the stocking she now wore. My mind was drooling in thought and pure satisfaction. With both hands either side of her leg Miss Monica gradually worked the stocking down her leg revealing her satin shapely leg.

“Look down, boytoy – look at that little mess you’re making for yourself.” Looking down I saw my firm not yet fully erect cock with the obvious drip of pre-cum escaping from its tip.

“Naughty, naughty boy!” She teased. “Does the sight of my leg arouse you, boytoy?”

“Yes, Mistress, yes, Miss Monica” I feebly replied.

“Can’t HEAR you…” Again that little terseness of impatience.

“YES, Mistress, YES, YES, Miss Monica – I am overawed by watching you.”

“And you say?”

“Thank you, Miss Monica – Thank you for allowing me to watch.”

“Goooood Boyyy. You’re learning but it still won’t make up for your earlier transgression.”

Switching legs she followed the same process. Watching again as the second beautiful limb of Miss Monica was revealed in its nakedness. After placing the stocking next to the first over the arm of the chair she sat down.

“Now you’re going to follow my ever word – correct?

“YES, Miss Monica – I will obey.”

“Come forward in front of me. Kneel up.”

I stepped forward but faltered at the unfamiliar command.

She knew she’d never used it with me before. “On your knees, but with body lifted, not sitting on your haunches.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I’d learned something new. Immediately I complied and in an instant knelt before her. Miss Monica handed me the first silk stocking I’d purchased.

“Put it on me properly and show me how much you need and want to obey me in doing so.”

Taking the stocking I bunched it ready as Miss Monica placed her hands on my shoulders and lifted her right leg. I grazed the satin over luxurious skin, feeling the texture against the backs of my fingers. Over the curvature of her calf, higher and higher upward toward her heavenly thighs.

“Don’t overdo it naughty boy!”

“No, Miss Monica – No Mistress.” I settled the lace band at a respectable level.

She raised the other foot and I repeated the process. Everything in me vibrated. The scent of her. The feel both physically and aurally of her presence. Her voice. Her commands. I was in dreamland. Deftly and seductively Miss Monica placed each foot into her high heels making her replete in splendor.

“Stand up!” she commanded, to which I immediately complied while Miss Monica sat down again in the chair.

“Step forward.” I did so my cock swelling, engorging. Buttocks clenching. Mind rocking.

Miss Monica reached for a stocking she had been wearing before. My head swiveled and my eyes widened as the stocking came near my cock.

“We need you a little better organized, boytoy for the next exercise.”

She cupped the center of the stocking under my balls then lifted and wrapped it up and around. Back down and up again, fully collaring the base of my cock. Skillfully Miss Monica then crossed the stocking a few times before stretching the remainder to my balls before crossing again and pulling back up. The tension tightened as she finished the binding. A neat bow completed the trussing.

To my amazement she took the second stocking and draped it over my cock, which raged with firmness. Miss Monica stood up and looked into my eyes, her gaze piercing. “Don’t drop it,” she commanded.

I nodded.

“Put your hands on the arms of the chair and lean forward. We’re going to take care of that earlier transgression.”

She moved beside me and placed her left hand on my back. Then with almighty force whacked her right hand against my buttocks. It stung like crazy and I rocked forward.

She looked round at my cock to see the stocking still draped in place. “Ah, good.” The praise soothed me, but only for a moment.

In the next instant, she sent a series of whacks across my buttocks, two, three, seven, …. I lost count. I could only feel the sting increase with each smack. The blood surged to both buttock and cock. My mind zig zagged between the surging pain and concentrating on not dropping the stocking. Quite frankly the latter wasn’t hard as I was so erect, but the sway of my hips was shifting the stocking to one side.

My emotions rose and rolled, to the point of a near tear in my eye. But not from pain. From the knowledge that I was completely taken and compliant. I rejoiced in that feeling.

“Who owns you?” Miss Monica’s voice drifted to me. I had no idea how long I’d been here or how many swats she’d administered.

The answer came easy to my lips. “You, Miss Monica, you own me.”

“What do you do for me?”

“Obey, Miss Monica – I obey you.”

“That’s right.” I could hear her smiling. “Walk over to the cross and DON’T drop that stocking.”

Immediately I turned. My stinging buttocks clenched as I walked, trying desperately not to drop the stocking which was shifting more sideways with every step. Slow and careful brought me again to the cross where I was reattached, wrists and ankles.

Then her hand grasped my swollen member, an engorged purple pulsating organ.

“Mmmmm, indeed you’re needy. You naughty, naughty boy. Been having some perverse thoughts maybe?” she tormented.

“No Mistress” I stammered.

“No? Don’t try to fool me.” Another whack with her hand. “YOU have been very naughty, boytoy, making me wait so long for the pleasure of playing with you. This you shall pay for. But first, I need to go and change. You’ll wait here for me – won’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Monica, I will obey.”

“Of course you will – you can’t move anyway, silly boy.”

And with that I was blindfolded again, the light, all vision, shut out. Without another word I heard her footsteps move away.

“I’ll be back naughty, naughty boy,” she called. “We’ll deal with the bigger transgression then!” I heard the door close and Miss Monica’s footsteps dropped off into the distance.

I let out a whimper of loneliness, longing and wanting. I just wanted her back with me no matter the circumstances. No matter what she has in store for me. Miss Monica owns me. I will obey.

And now I wait.