We are in a dungeon, nondescript and unimportant, but a dungeon nonetheless. You are secured to a bondage frame: wrists by cuffs and clips to the top, ankles by rope to the sides. You cannot lower your arms nor can you put your legs together. You are naked except for the ink that decorates your body. I am wearing a short skirt and a bra, my spike heels and waist cincher corset left on the floor out of reach.
I have already warmed your back up with impact and used sensation play to sensitize your chest. You are breathing a little heavier but are not completely winded as of yet. I move behind you again and proceed to hit you with a cane, leaving red stripes across your back. With each strike there is a sharp intake of breath and a moment to settle. Ten strikes, each one calculated and deliberate, and then I move on to a dragontail. When I am finished with the dragontail, you have welts to compliment the cane strikes, so that you look as though you’re decorated with the stems of flowers, leaves along the lengths, with no heads.
I take a break at this point to come around to the front of you. I take a length of paracord and attach it behind your shaft and scrotum. I wind it tightly around your sack, turn after turn creating a stretch and a tightness. After ten or eleven rotations, I tie off the end and your skin is stretched thin, sensitive to even the lightest touch or tickle. You laugh and pull back in a futile attempt to get away. I smile wickedly and say, “Ok, fine, I’ll just go back to beating you.”
I pick out a particularly nasty yet unassuming toy, a plastic bath brush. I use the pink-handled brush, not as a brush, but as a paddle to create the heads of the flowers. I hit you repeatedly in the same place to create the effect I want, finishing the foliage across your back and not caring about your pleas for mercy. You scream, and cry, and growl at me and yet I do not relent until I am satisfied with my art.
When I finish I go back to your front. You are sweating, hanging limp in your bonds and yet still on your feet. I rub my face against yours, scent marking you and inhaling your fragrance like a perfume connoisseur. I rake my nails down your chest, you squint and groan, but start to come back to your senses. I move down, touching your sensitive cock and balls, that are now turning darker shades of red and purple. I begin to stroke your hard length, and you let your head lull back, a satisfied sigh escaping your lips.
“Oohh, you like that, huh boy?” I am close to your ear but speaking clearly.
“Oh yes, Lady, I like it very much,” you breathily exclaim.
“Would you like me to continue doing it?” I am stroking you lightly with a twisting motion, using my other hand to gently play with your tight sack.
“Oh god, yes, please Lady, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” you plead, trying to sound as earnest and genuine as you can.
“Alright, I won’t stop. But you must ask permission before you cum, understand me boy?” I am stern yet kind, comforting but authoritative. I feel you shiver.
“Yes, Lady, I understand,” you reply, strained by desire.
I begin my work in earnest, grabbing the lube within reach and using it to slicken my grip. I squeeze and twist, move up and down, and use my fingers to massage your aching testicles. Your breathing quickens, your hips thrust forward. I gain momentum and you rapidly reach the point of no return.
“Lady, may I please cum?” Your tone is pleading.
“Are you sure you need to?” I do not stop.
“Yes, Lady, may I please cum? I’m so close.” Now you are pleading louder.
“Oh, you’re so close huh? Can’t hold out any longer? Are you sure?” I’m mocking your tone.
“Lady, I’m sure, I can’t hold out any longer, please let me cum.” You are begging now, “Please, I beg you, may I cum?”
I undo the end of the paracord, take a hold of it, and stroke you hard and fast.
“Yes, boy, you may cum. Cum for me now!” You groan, hold your breath, and your hot load shoots out of your throbbing cock. As you begin to cum, I pull on the paracord, creating a helicopter effect with your balls. You scream, and gasp, and yet still cum, as I stroke every last drop out of you. You sag in your bonds, completely spent, and I revel in your exhaustion.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qnqf4f/flowers_and_cum