Everyday I go to work, carrying on with my life as your average, everyday human. Toying away with the usual 9-5 routine, awaiting my escape from the monotonous and repetitive; in no way was this the life I lived for.
Walking out of the confines of a reality that society forced upon me, I began to plot out the person the night would call me to be: Mistress V: A person that no one would imagine in dress slacks and a button up blouse.
Underneath this jovial cover was a dark and overpowering presence. I wasn’t born with this presence. Instead it was created out of the pain and hatred that came when my life and freedom were seemingly torn away by an experience that showed no empathy or remorse for stealing something that should be sacred: innocence.
Nightfall returned all that I thought was lost: It gave me the power, control, and status I longed for. All the insecurities and self doubt slipped away as I began my transformation.
Many outfits lay before me: fishnet thigh highs, red stiletto heels, leather crotchless panties, a black corset, along with a leather pony whip, was the final selection. Finalizing the cover up of the person I was a mere hour ago, bright red lipstick and dark eye shadow evolved me into the woman I recognized more and more every day.
Suddenly all the pain slipped away; masked by something stronger, something darker. Driven down by the power I possessed: A power that no one dared question or argue. A power that showed no mercy or consideration for requests: only my needs mattered and the demands would be met or the consequences would be fierce and unforgiving.
As I entered the darkness of the dungeon, I felt myself moisten in anticipation of this hidden strength. I would be his worst nightmare and greatest fantasy all in one.
He sat on the cold bare concrete floor: naked, exposed, and vulnerable. As I approached him, I brought the whip to his face – he’s staring blankly at the floor – rubbing the whip from his cheek down to his chin, tilting his head back, I direct his gaze towards me.
He acknowledges me with enthusiasm. Beginning to speak, “Mistress, please, I’ve been waiting for you.”
I begin to step forward, the leather barely covering my crotch is pressed against his face. I suddenly bring the whip back and slap him across the cheek.
“From this point, you do what the fuck I say. Nothing more and nothing less. If you’re a good boy, you may earn a reward at the end. You are not to speak or move unless I grant permission to do so.. Understood?”
His reply comes with fear and a shaky uncertainty that I find invigorating. “Yes, mistress. Understood.”
He begins to mutter words, unintelligibly. I lean down pressing my knee deeply down on his stomach, pulling my first tool forward: a ball gag. I smack him on the cheek. Waving my finger in his face I say, “naughty, naughty. That’s not how we behave. This should help you comply.” Forcing the ball gag in his mouth – strapping it tightly on.
I grab him by the side of the gag and pull him to his feet, twisting him toward the wall, his hands are pressed against the dank and cold concrete. I pull out the next tool: leather wrapped handcuffs. I grabbed the first ring and placed it around his right hand: tightening it and attaching it to a pipe that hangs along the ceiling.
I step back with a snap of the whip and strike him across the back of his legs. A red mark is left where my strength left it. Using it as a bullseye: I strike him again. “Anymore disobedience will be met with severe punishment.”
With that, I raise my leg and kick him against the wall: pressing my stiletto heel deep to communicate the freedoms he is losing.
I walk across the room to a table and assess the items I have to use: I select a cloth blindfold. As the clink of my shoes announce my arrival, I grab a hose hanging from the ceiling and spray him with a stream of pressure.
He’s dripping wet, I grab a handful of dirt with my right hand. With my left hand, I grab him firmly by the neck, turning him around and shoving him firmly against the wall. Then grabbing him by the cock with my right hand, the dirt and water combining to create a thick muddy layer. This time I move close to his face and scream, “your fucking cock is dirt, fucking trash. Your fucking cock is nothing to me!”
The strength that I’m emanating begins the build-up of pleasure that I have grown addicted to. An excitement I find in the powerlessness he has. I stroke his lower abdomen, showing some affection and appreciation for the compliance and degradation he is allowing.
I walk back to the table, removing my bottoms and grab a leather collar and a short leash. Walking back, I placed the collar around his neck and pulled his head back with a forceful purpose that implies my ownership and possession.
I remove the handcuffs, directing him towards the center of the room, tugging firmly on the leash. “Get down on your hands and knees.” My demand is met with compliance. “Good boy.”
I straddle him, sitting on his back. I begin to run my fingers around his neck softly, leaning forward – I lick and nibble on his earlobe – whispering in his ear, “Good boys get to cum once they have complied and served me. Now stay here and no movement until I get back.”
This is my favorite part, as I re-enter the room over an hour later. Returning to find him shaking from the muscle weakness but compliant. I softly stroked his hair then grabbed it firmly, pulling his head back – I lick his cheek and nibble his ear again, avoiding an early climax, I stand him up and begin placing the chastity around his manhood. “Good boy.” I whisper firmly.
Obtaining the leash, I lead him to a bed in the corner of the room. As I begin to lay down on the bed, he stands cold, with the curl of my finger, signaling my approval of his approach, he begins to crawl towards me on the bed with the subtle direction of the leash to remove any power or will.
As he nears my torso, I pulled his collar to bring his face to mine and say, “Now, if I remove the gag, will you be a good boy and stay quiet?” He silently nods in agreement.
I pull his face sideways and forcefully remove the gag. Grabbing him by the hair, I shove his head to my crotch. I feel the warm moisture dripping between my thighs as his tongue begins to explore and serve. I feel a tingle as my muscles begin to tighten in anticipation of the orgasm to come.
I pull his face up from my crotch and smack him on the cheek. I say firmly, “you better make me cum. You are mine and you will serve me however see fit.” I spread my legs and shove his head deeper into my crotch this time. Commanding, “You don’t deserve to taste my pussy. You better show your full gratitude for my willingness to share with a lowlife like you.”
I feel him licking with intensity and purpose. It feels amazing but I can’t let him get away with good enough. I slap him on the shoulder with the stick end of the whip and scream “try fucking harder, you think that is fucking good enough.”
The strength of my character is bringing the intensity of an orgasm. This time he doesn’t hesitate. As he shows his skill and motivation to bring me to full climax – serving his master well. I begin to feel the build…
I love the feeling as moisture flows out of me, mixing with his saliva. I bring my hands to his head and begin to move along with his rhythm. The intensity builds as a wave of euphoria explodes across my body: a calming sensation for a job well done. My legs tighten around his head as the flood of my cum covers the bed.
For a moment I lay silent and trembling. His head laying on my thigh, his eyes peering up at me, waiting for my validation and acknowledgement. I begin running my fingers through his hair with affection and gratitude.
With time, I gather myself and regroup my wits from the physical distraction my body demands. After a long awaited delay. My trembling voice 8begins to speak, “Good boy. You have served me well. Now, lay down and let’s reward your good behavior.”
As he lays apprehensively on the bed, I reposition myself and begin to remove the chastity. The release of his confines are met with relief as his erection begins to grow and his cock stands firmly as an invitation to mount.
I move to a drawer to the left of the bed and grab rope for his arms and legs. He lays still and unmoving in compliance as I tighten the rope around him, tethering tightly to the bed rails. I hear a groan as the rope burns across his wrist with a final tug to ensure security.
I grab a rag with some warm water and begin cleaning the dried dirt from around his cock… the anticipation of my touch sends a muscle spasm through his body as he squirms and repositions himself. He still behaves, keeping his voice and movements to a minimum. A suggestion of compliance that I’m willing to reward.
Moving to my knees, I lower myself placing him inside of my wet pussy. His manhood filled me and with the firm reminder that I am all he wants and he lives to serve my needs.
My weight pressing hard against his hips, I begin moving forward and back, feeling his cock slide deeper inside me… movements intensifying my need for more.
He groans again, I lean forward, grabbing hold of his jaw; turning his face sideways I bring my tongue near his ear and whisper, “Good boys are quiet and compliant… good boys get to cum for mistress.” He bites his lip, I feel a slight leak of precum slide out against my leg.
The minutes have floated by as our games ensued, as the clock on a nearby wall continues it’s countdown to 5 am… the end of our session. I increase the intensity of my movement. Forcing him deeper and deeper inside of me… feeling the explosion of cum, waiting for my welcoming approval.
I place my hands on his shoulders, tracing my fingers across his neck. I lean forward and kiss his lips firmly and with purpose: moving my tongue deeply, tracing the outline of his. The intensity sends a shiver of pleasure up my spine and across my body. I feel the orgasm building: the final euphoric moment before I get the release that will drive me through my next day.
As I tighten my fingers around his neck, I gasp with approval as I feel my final movements to climax. Granting my permission, I scream out in pleasure and feel the moisture of our cum leaking through our legs and landing in its final resting place on the bed.
Power can make you become someone you never thought you could be. To me, power is an escape from the constant thoughts, racing insinuating “you will never be good enough”. When I am Mistress V, I’m not insecure or self-conscious: I am a beautiful goddess who could fulfill your every desire: someone you have always dreamed of, if you are worthy and comply.
The next morning, the influx of personal flaws are left for me, as I critique my work attire and get ready for another daily routine… at least until tonight.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/faxha6/power_play