textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/toppings.txt

                          _Toppings_

   It's time. He kneels before me, knees parted, head down, hands
clasped behind his back, dressed in a spandex dancer's thong.

   "Are you ready to submit?"

   "Yes, Mistress.", in a voice almost too quiet to hear. I position
the collar, check its tightness with him and lock it. He follows me
to the frame, sets himself so that I can secure his wrists and ankles
with padded straps. I blindfold him with a long silk scarf, brightly
tie-dyed.

   "Please, Mistress. Not tonight?"

   "I'll take it off later, Willow. I have a surprise for you."

   I light candles around the room. He is beautiful, slender, strong,
vulnerable, patient. I go to ready myself. While I dress, I remember
both times I've done this and times I've waited on the frame for him
to return. I clothe myself: silk thong, silk pants, black suede vest
lined in silk, red and black collar: my armor, my vestments. Whips
and other implements of pain and delight await their use. I carefully
wrap the dildo in a brightly colored condom.

   The rustle of silk tells him I'm back. He turns his head toward
me, looking apprehensive and eager all at once. I start the music;
first is _Let's Dance_ by David Bowie. We begin with the black
deerskin flogger, as always. Its smell evokes memories of times I've
been on both sides of it. With just the ends of the tails I brush
nipples, thighs, face, arms, smooth buttocks. When I judge that he is
ready, I step back so that I can swing properly. The music tells us
both when the next blow will come. He breathes deeply, losing himself
in the rhythm. The whip swings easily, lightly. I put more strength
behind my blows as he becomes more used to the sensation. At the end
of the pice, his back is flushed but not yet striped; the deerhide is
so soft, its blows are barely more than caresses.

   He flinches and then smiles as I adjust the nipple clamps. The
next piece is fast and intense: Peter Gabriel's _Rhythm of the Heat_.
The next whip is harder: red suede, thirteen straight tails. It will
go well with the faster beat. I begin at half-tempo to the drums,
getting used to the different swing. I embrace him from behind, pinch
nipples between sharp fingernails. His moans of pleasure found in
pain inspire me. We're both breathing fast and hard. My pussy is wet,
my nipples stiff. I flog him fervently, matching the rising energy of
the music with our own, leaving stripes and just the beginnings of
welts. The drums fade out. I check his hands and feet, and kiss him.

   "Willow, it's time for the paddle."

   "Yes, Mistress."

   "Count, Willow."

   I paddle him in time to the beat of _She Drives Me Crazy_. He
speaks the numbers through clenched teeth, trying not to flinch. By
thirteen, his ass is bright pink. He'll have beautiful bruises
tomorrow. He claims to prefer my hand to the paddle, but he'll
proudly show off his bruises (and stripes and welts and scrapes
and...) later. At twenty-eight he hisses his slowword; I allow him
(and my arm) a few measures' rest. He has two more coming: I hit him
once more hard with the paddle, then give him the last one with my
hand.

   The music segues into a fast percussion piece from _Drumming on
the Edge_. I fetch the next whip: braided red and black suede. This
one has bite. It leaves clusters of bright, well-defined welts. I
gather the tails between swings, glad for the leather of my vest. My
arm is tiring; it will be sore tomorrow. The length and intensity of
this piece will push us both. Several times he draws breath as if
to slowword, but each time he checks himself.

   When we're done, his back is beautifully crisscrossed. He marks,
and heals, remarkably easily.  His welts are almost always gone in a
day or so. The bruises tend to last a bit longer, but there's no one
to see them who won't understand.

   The drums recede into surf sounds. With an ice cube and lips and
teeth, I alternate cold with hot kisses and bites on his nipples and
earlobes. I reach down to find his cock rigid. He moans and opens his
mouth to my tongue. I free his ankles, then sit back, regarding my
beautiful Partner adorned with the tokens of power given: collar,
chains, cuffs. I briefly massage his calf muscles, then divest him of
his thong. He's exquisitely hard, velvet and silk over steel.

   I begin licking him, running my tongue along the entire length of
him. I take the head my mouth while I snap on the cock ring. I
delight in sucking his delicious hardness. Sometimes long and slow,
taking his substantial hardness all the way, sometimes teasing
cockhead and sensitive underside with tongue, teeth and fingernails.
His excitement builds; I bring him perilously close to the point of
release and stop. He groans hopefully, but knows from experience that
asking doesn't tend to help.

   "Patience, Willow."

   I untie his blindfold and stand in front of him. I step out of my
pants. Next comes the vest, unlacing, showing him my tits with dark
nipples hard and erect. I turn to show him my big, round ass, pulling
down the thong (completely soaked in the crotch). I turn back to
reveal the surprise: I've shaved my pubic hair.

   "Ooooh, Love!" with eyes alight. His face falls as he realizes the
probable consequences of his falling out of character. "Oooh
Mistress?" hopeful, suspecting it's in vain.

   "Mistress!", I agree sternly. "I'd been hoping for an excuse to
crop you. I think ten will do nicely, don't you?" He gulps. I make
ten precise parallel lines across his buttocks, using my full
strength for the last two blows. He arches his back, eyes shut tight
but he doesn't cry out. I drop the crop and reach out to steady him.
When he's ready, I free his wrists.

   "This is probably going to hurt." I caution him with a grin.

   "Yes, Mistress."

   I none-too-gently pop the clips off his nipples and steady him
again as returning circulation takes its toll.

   "Face down, Willow, hands over your head".

   "Yes, Mistress."

   I bring the lamp over so I can inspect his back. I haven't *quite*
drawn blood. Thoughts of hot wax and cold steel tempt me, but there
will be other times for those diversions. Now it's my turn. I rake
his back with sharp fingernails, adding their marks to the whips'. He
smiles. I lay down next to him. Thighs spread, I pull his face to my
cunt.

   "Lick me. Lick my cunt, make me cum on your tongue." He caresses
my open vulva with his tongue, licking everywhere. The touch of his
tongue feels so different, so intense with the hair gone. He parts my
labia with his tongue, wets his tongue in my overflowing pussy, and
returns to my clit, flogging it with his tongue, side to side, up and
down, always pressing gently. He lubes the small dildo and shoves it
into my ass. I moan, encouraging him with cries and my fingers wound
into his hair. My clit is hard, like a little cock. The sensation of
his hot tongue on is painfully ecstatic. I cum violently,
explosively, holding his head, moving my hips, screaming rapture. He
keeps moving his tongue, slowly, lightly, invoking more bliss. I pull
him to me. I kiss him hard, tasting myself on his lips.

   "Willow, fuck me *now!*"

   "My pleasure is to serve, Mistress!", with an impish grin.

   He rolls on a condom, kneels between my legs, slides into my hot
wetness. We begin the oldest dance together. We've been each other's
partners for this dance for a long time.

   "Mistress?" He waits for my acknowledgement. "May I please fuck
your beautiful, tight ass?"

   "Yes, oh yes." Coherent speech takes an effort. He extricates the
dildo, then carefully positions the head of his cock at the entrance.
I relax myself and encourage him with fingernails dug into his tender
ass. Taking his wide hardness in for the first time is always such an
intense, erotic sensation, I feel so full, so open. He moves insde
me, infinitely careful, holding onto my spread thighs.

   "Mistress? May I please cum?"

   I make him wait for a while, then relent.

   "Yes, Beloved Willow."

   I release his cock from the ring; he thrusts twice more, wails and
cums fiercely, deep inside me. He nearly collapses. I slide from
underneath him, and lower him gently. He winces when his tender back
touches the soft fleece. I carefully peel off the condom, drape the
big blanket over him and step into the bathroom to wash up. I return
to find him shivering. He opens his arms to me. I lie down over him
in our old familiar position. He pulls me to him. His face is wet. I
hold him, offering comfort, whispering love.

   "I love you, Mistress. I love you, Partner. I love you, Mariann."

   "I love you, Willow. I love you, Partner. I love you, Michael."