“Open your mouth,” he says.  “Yes, like that, good girl.  No, don’t touch.  Wait.  Put your hands behind your back.  Yes.”

i am between his legs, on my knees.  Waiting for permission to lower my mouth and take his cock in to the wet warmth, to stroke him with my tongue, to suck gently.

i wait, mouth open.  He is touching himself, stroking his cock with one hand, the other hand in my hair, ready to guide me if needed.

i can smell the musky man odor – i know, i know that’s a cliche, i can’t help it.  How else can you describe it?  i am so close, and so eager to begin.  i can feel the wetness between my own legs, so turned on.

i keep my eyes on his cock, trying to be patient, keeping my mouth open and ready.

“Put out your tongue,” he says.  Gingerly, i poke my tongue out, just the tip, but “No, girl,” he says, “PUT your tongue out.”

i stick it out then, stick it out as far as i can, and he laughs.  “Ok,” he says, “good girl, now relax your tongue.  Keep it out but relaxed.”

My anxiety is ramping up, what if he doesn’t let me, with if he just keeps playing with himself?  What if i can’t do it the way he likes?  What if i fuck this up and he doesn’t let me and he sends me away?

“When I tell you to start,” he says, “- and not before – when I tell you to start, you may lower your head and lick me with your tongue out, just like it is now.  Start when I say start, and stop when I say stop.”

And still he makes me wait – hovering, right on the edge, so close to his cock.  i want to rest my cheek against its velvety softness, but i wait.

And then, “Start,” he says.

i lower my head, his hand still in my hair but not directing me.  i touch the flat of my tongue to the head of his cock, on the side, as if he were a lovely ice cream cone.  Gently, lovingly, i lick my way around the bulb of his cock, like it was gonna melt if i didn’t lick it real well.

“Stop,” he says, way too soon, i am only barely getting started, but i stop in mid lick.  “Good girl,” he says, tugging my hair gently.  “Relax your mouth.”

i do, almost closing it, but not pressing my lips together.  He moves his hands to my breasts, which are exposed.  He grabs a nipple with each hand.  Strokes them, tugging gently.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, rolling each one lightly between a thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, sir,” my breathing is a bit short, but it’s an honest response, so much heat between my legs, i think i could cum just from this pleasure, if he would only tell me to.

“It’s going to hurt in a minute,” he says.  “I’m going to make it hurt.  Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes, Sir,” my voice is soft, but yes.  In this moment, i want what he wants.

“Ask me to.”

“Please, Master?”

And he does, both nipples, his fingers tightening slowly, pleasure, pleasure, and then it slips quickly over the edge, into pain and more pain, and i’m gasping with the shock and the pain, barely able to hold my position – trying not to cry out –

– and he stops, quickly, completely, so i am both relieved and a bit off-balance.  There are tears on my cheeks, but my hands are still behind my back.

“Good girl,” he says, and i am so pleased with myself for having pleased him, i’m smiling, even though my nipples still throb.  He laughs.  “Do you think you can please me with your mouth?”

i start to answer, but his quick ‘Shhh- no words” stops me.  “Show me,” he says.

i begin the way he likes, kissing gently, adding quick licks from my tongue, making sure my mouth is wet.  When his cock is slick and glistening, I slide my mouth down on it, relaxing my throat so he slides deep, deep into my throat, taking him into my mouth until it won’t go any farther.

“Good girl,” he says, and now his voice is a bit strained with pleasure.  Slowly, slowly, i bring my mouth back up.  Determined to show him how well i can please, i begin to lick again.  We have lots of time.