Page 82 of At Her Will

“Oh…” The climax rolled over her, a lovely thing. Not the intense, rip-out-the-soul experience she planned to give them both, but a wonderful appetizer to steady her.

When she could catch her breath, she spoke. “You can open your eyes, Rev.”

She reclined in an erotic sprawl, her fingertips still resting on her wet pussy, back arched against the chair, thighs spread. As he gazed at her, he whispered something that she didn’t catch, but the tone held reverence liberally tested by sexual frustration. The male fire in his eyes said he was poised to leap as soon as she allowed it. He was already fighting the urge to do that without permission, the animal wanting to take over.

She adjusted the straps, putting the bodice back in place as she rose, smoothing her hands over her breasts and hips. Retrieving the chimes from the basket, she came to him with those and the stool. “I’m going to lean against you to do this, Rev. Don’t do anything I haven’t said you can. You simply stand there.”

“I feel like I got to put my mouth on you.”

“I expect you to find a way to control that, Rev.” She gave him a cool stare. “Whose will do you obey? Yours or mine?”

“It a battle, between this beast inside me that want to take you down under me, and what’ll please you.”

“I don’t want you to hide your desires. I like seeing the struggle. But I’m teaching you to obey my will over your own desires. Show me how well you can learn.”

As she stepped onto the footstool, she pushed her breasts right up against his face, her hips against his abdomen. The devout Rev muttered a creative curse against her flesh, his breath hot through the cloth, but he held fast. Above where his hands were bound, she hooked the chimes to the rope, then stepped down.

“I’m going to put my mouth on you now, Rev. And when I tap you three times, you’ll come. I want to taste you, swallow you into me.”

As he shifted, the chimes spoke. Her gaze lifted to them, then dropped to his face. “You must remain still. If I hear the chimes, I stop, and I’ll resume when I feel you’re under better control.”

“Even when…you ask me to spill?”

“You must do your very best to come without making them ring. I don’t expect you to succeed, but I expect to see the effort to do so. That will determine whether I stop and let you spurt into the air, instead of holding you in my mouth and sucking you to completion.”

His eyes held a feverish look, so she laid her hand on his chest and met his gaze. “Testing you, watching you do your best to please me, gives me so much pleasure, Rev. I savor every moment of this. The more you suffer for me, the more I want to give you.”

Her indirect reminder of what he said he wanted to do more than anything else—serve her—seemed to settle the maelstrom in his head, even if he remained caught in his struggle to deny his body what it demanded he take.

“Thank you, Mistress. That all I need to hear to keep doing it.”

“Good.”

She put her mouth on his chest and began to work her way down, enjoying the journey. Tasting and biting, nipples, abdomen, hip bones, upper thighs, then around his cock. He shuddered, but except for a couple tinytings, the chimes were staying remarkably still.

The strained muscles, the chaos in his eyes and vibrating energy around him, told her he was putting everything into serving her as she’d demanded.

She drew that hot wave tighter around them, letting him have the benefit of it, in the way she slid her fingertips over him, and in how her mouth tasted, her teeth nipped, her lips sucked. She dedicated her full attention to his cock, exploring it, sucking on the head and laving the shaft with her tongue. Taking the whole thing in and working it in her mouth, she went as far to the root as she could get. As she slid back up to the head, she relished his taste.

The next time she went down on him, she cupped his testicles, rolled them in her palm, pressed in between them and reached between his spread legs to stroke his perineum.

His breath was harsh but shallow, making it sound like a growl caught in his throat. His body was sculpted iron as he fought to stay still, to keep the chimes from singing. The effort built the response, making sure it didn’t rise too fast, drawing it out.

She’d love a bronze statue of him, just like this, to put in her backyard. She had artist contacts. She might commission one.

So even when he’s out of your life, you’ll have the memory…

She shut that voice up, not wanting to taint this moment with insecurities.

She tapped his thigh those three times, and gripped his buttocks, taking him in as his release jetted into her mouth, bathing her tongue and throat with his seed. She dug her nails into his ass and sucked harder as the strangled groan became a cry. She scored him with her teeth, earning a jerk and a ring of those chimes, like a call to worship. She heard him give himself a chastising oath, even in the throes of his orgasm. Her lips would have smiled if they weren’t stretched by his still spurting cock.

Oh, Rev, you are a Mistress’s treasure.

She kept on him even after he was done, until he was jerking a little, his cock hypersensitive. He was still trying not to move. This was also a teaching moment, him learning that her playing her mouth over him, squeezing and stroking, was something she would do as long as she wished, because what she held was hers, to do with as she desired.

When he understood the lesson, she was rocked by a powerful wave of gratitude from him, for her demands, for giving him the opportunity to strive to please her. To honor her demands and desires over his own. His Mistress wanted him enough to take and take. And take some more. And that was what he’d said he wanted, most of all.

At long last, she rose. Her knees were shaking, butterflies in her stomach and chest. She leaned against him to grip his neck and kiss his mouth, letting him taste himself on her lips.

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