His Disobedience

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Part 1: His Stockings
Part 2: His Obedience

He is biting the inside of his cheek. He is fighting temptation.

His secretary is leaving soon. This is his last chance for a quickie. He is uncertain when Domina will relieve him. He stews with indecision.

He recalls the first time he requested a task.

She tells him he is not ready. She tells him he will fail. He does not believe Her. Her certainty bruises his pride.

He asserts his readiness. He has a will of iron.

She accedes. She grins at him, but this grin… this devious curve of lips and wicked glint in Her eyes is nothing like the simpering smirk that initially drew him.

There is an odd stirring in his chest: a blossoming desire to do anything for this Woman, if only She will always look upon him this way. Her expression tells the truth. She is eager to toy with him, to dominate him, to challenge him, and to use him for Her own pleasure. He is astonished by how badly he wants Her to use him, as only She can.

He rubs his thighs together, squirming at the memory. It took Her four months to let him peer this deeply into Her true nature.

The task She gives is simple. No sexual gratification for three days. When he disobeys, which She promises he will, he will be punished.

He expresses his reservations about pain. She allays his worries. She clarifies that the punishment will not involve inflicting pain. She asks him to trust Her. There is a heavy weight to the request.

He is nervous about trusting Her, but his heart is shouting that he must.

He agrees to the task with little hesitation. He agrees to the vague punishment.

He recalls his disobedience.

He is clenching his jaw, tense with need. He has not touched himself nor has he been touched in nearly two days. He is not a man accustomed to denying himself. His secretary licks her lips and he succumbs to his libido. Her plump little mouth is sucking him off in no time. She swallows all he has to give. The orgasm is weak. There is no satisfaction. For the first time in a long while, he regrets taking a partner.

He recalls his punishment the following night.

He thinks he has gotten away with cheating.

He is tied to Her bed, wrists and ankles near each corner of the mattress. His erection is painful.

She is beyond gorgeous as she crawls onto the bed. Her fingernails skirt along the flesh surrounding his groin. He arches his hips, tries to get Her to take hold of his shaft. She ignores his hints. She tells him that he is to please Her orally before She will give him his reward. She tells him to eat Her pussy as vigorously as he wants to fuck Her. She tells him She will not reward him if he holds back even the slightest.

His cock spasms. He wants to please Her, but he wants his reward more. He wants the orgasm that his secretary failed to give him.

She straddles his head, Her body facing his aching cock. He shows Her with his mouth how badly he needs his reward. It is not long until She is arched back, Her fingers dug in his hair, pulling hard at the roots. He is addicted to Her taste, to the writhing of Her body above him, to Her moans of pleasure, and to Her gasped orders.

His mouth goes numb before She finishes with him.

It takes Her a few moments to recover. She practically suffocates him as She rests. He loves it.

She climbs off him and stands by his side. It takes him a moment to notice Her stern frown. He immediately worries that he has not pleased Her enough. He will go mad if She does not give him release.

She proceeds to untie him. “You cheated,” She says. Her voice is still breathy from all his hard work. “Go home.” She points to the door. “This is your punishment.”

He is crushed. He is furious. She is adamant.

They did not speak for a week afterwards. He was the one to make first contact. She did not reject him, nor did She speak of his failure.

It has taken Her over a month to give him a second chance to obey Her. He does not know why She chose today. He does not care. He is grateful.

His secretary pops her head in.

He sends her home.

He rubs his thighs together.

His Obedience

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Part 1: His Stockings

He sits at his mahogany desk in his corner office. His hands flex against his leather desk pad. His knuckles begin to mottle. He struggles to maintain restraint.

The board meeting adjourned a scant ten minutes ago. She did not allow any time to speak privately. He knew Her immediate conversation with several other board members was a ruse. He knew that he could not approach Her in their presence without drawing curiosity. Nor could he wait for Her, for the same reasons.

Their relationship is a secret. It must remain so. She cannot afford to be associated with him.

Gossip is a wildfire that cannot be extinguished.

He is known for his exploitations of women. Her high esteem amongst their colleagues would be jeopardized if they were found out. She would be belittled. They would see Her as another one of his conquests. They would pity Her. They would question Her judgment. They would speculate Her motives. She would be seen as just another woman trying to fuck Her way up the bureaucratic ladder.

Their peers would not be able to see the truth of things. There would be no convincing them that he was the putty in Her hands, not vice versa.

He rubs his thighs together.

He aches for release.

There is another tier to this assignment. If the task were as simple as wearing some women’s lingerie, there would be no challenge. His state of arousal would not be a problem. His secretary is more than willing to help him ‘work out’ any pent up sexual frustrations. Under normal circumstances, he has no qualms with utilizing her particular assets.

Domina knows of his relations with his secretary.

And so, She has concocted two stipulations for wearing the stockings. Firstly, he cannot remove them without Her permission. Secondly, he is banned from any sexual gratification while he dons them, unless She gives him permission.

He craves Her permission.

He glances at his cell phone. He wonders if he is above begging. Before this morning, he thought he was. Now, he isn’t so sure.

He picks up the cell phone.

He texts Her one word. He hopes it doesn’t sound too plaintive.

Domina?

He waits. She keeps him locked tight in anticipation for an indefinite period of time.

Finally, She replies.

No.

He groans.

He rubs his thighs together.

He obeys.

((Sculpture is ‘Fugit Amor’ by Rodin))

His Stockings

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He rubs his thighs together. Breathes a little harder through his mouth. He is painfully aroused and has been all day.

It’s all due to the stockings clinging to his legs. Every brush of his pants against his legs has been a lesson in sensuality. It is a miracle that he has been able to keep silent with each minute rustle of cloth against the black netting. His eyes have been opened to the secret carnality a fine-tailored pair of trousers can provide. He is hyper-aware of just how sensitive his thighs are.

He rubs his thighs together again. He cannot help himself.

It doesn’t help that his Domina made him wear matching silk undies. His initial concern about feeling humiliated was foolish. He has been too distracted by the sinfully smooth weave caressing his cock to feel humiliation.

He does not know what is worse: suffering this exquisite torture or having his Domina’s teasing smirk haunt him. She chose this task well. He does not normally see Her while he is working. Today, however, is the monthly board meeting. And of course She is in attendance. She is sitting across from him. She has not spared him a glance since taking Her seat. Even so, twice now She has smirked. Her smirks betray her.

He grins. She wants to torture him? Fine, he decides. Two can play at that game. He knows She must be going wild with lust. He saw the fire of Her arousal raging in Her eyes when he put the lingerie on that morning. He saw just how tightly She pursed Her mouth. It is Her tell. She always pulls Her lips into a tight little moue whenever She struggles with control. He is actually surprised She isn’t pursing Her lips now.

Then again, perhaps he isn’t too surprised. She knows what Her smirks do to him. Her coy, intriguing little smirk is what drew him to Her in the first place. Damn her! He realizes Her smirks are part of the game, too. Even if She is going mad with desire for him, She is hiding it. Even in this, She is playing with him. Taunting him. Teasing him. Setting his blood on fire with arousal.

His feeble impulse to get back at Her dies. How could he hope to turn this against Her if She is this clever? He has never been mastered like this before.

He squirms as he starts to grasp just how thorough his Domina is. A harsh breath escapes him as he is cruelly reminded that even the slightest of movements is unbearably erotic. She smirks again and it unravels him. A man can only have so much control!

His cock swells. His cockhead glides against the silk of his undies. His hands grip his chair’s arms as he struggles to remain composed. He writhes as he aspires to hide just how badly he needs to climax. He agonizes in silence.

He rubs his thighs together.

The meeting continues.

His Domina’s smirk does not fade.

He loves Her for all Her Deviousness.