Work Text:
Click, click, click, click
The sound of a clock, the tight feeling of rope and leather, mouth gagged, eyes covered, total darkness.
Bound.
The soft rug you are kneeling on is starting to shift under you, but when you try to adjust you are stopped by the bindings hooked to your collar.
Moist.
Click, click, click.
Time passes, you count the seconds, your bound limbs ache, you lose count.
Muffled footsteps, soft, so light you would miss the sound if you didn’t focus.
A door clicks open, a loud squeak from a door in sore need of oil. The footsteps are no longer muffled, but they are still so soft; controlled.
Another click, the lights come on. While you can’t see through the blindfold, its not thick enough to block all of the light. You try to see the outline of your Master. You fail of course.
Footsteps again, “Hold still,” he says, walking behind you.
He undoes the gag, letting it hang around your throat like a necklace.
“What did you learn?” He asks.
“To remember to thank Master," You say, gasping, “Thank you for the lesson Master.” He pets your head, before undoing the bindings on your hands and feet.
“Good girl,” He says. A warm feeling envelops you, warmth, ‘thirst’.
He steps away, you hear soft footsteps turn into a shift of weight on a soft chair. A soft hum of electricity, the massage function of the chair turns on.
You reluctantly pull off your blindfold looking down at your exposed self, exposing and tight leather gear wraps around and decorate you, its black shades complementing the red rope.
Thirst. The rug is getting wet. You look over to your Master who's reading a book. You crawl over and cling to his leg, pressing your sizable bust against it.
He chuckles. Amused. But... keeps reading.
“Master,” You say after a minute of warm silence, your ‘thirst’ wetting the floor.
“Yes.”
“Please...play with me.”
“Oh?” He says, looking down at you, “Play what?”
“Touch me.”
“Aren't I already?” He chuckles.
You groan at his taunts. You steel yourself, and muster your courage, “F-fuck me.”
“What was that?” He stares at you, smiling ever so slightly.
“Fuck me.”
“I didn’t quite catch that,” He lifts a finger tapping his ear, you grumble, raising your voice.
“Fuck me!”
“Maybe if you say it a few times,” He says, laughing.
“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”
He smiles at you, leaning forward and pulling you up to his knee by the throat, hands soft, grip gentle. He leans in, eyes staring into yours, then he pushes you back, “No.”
“Wha-.” Shock, surprise, you lose your balance and fall on your back, legs spread awkwardly. “I want it so much though Master!” You plead.
“You get what I give cow.” He pulls off his shoes, revealing red socks. Throwing them to the side he steps on your boobs, vibrations from the chair spread across your chest.
You moan.
“Oh? Is the cow slut even happy with something like this?” He steps down harder, the vibrations and pressure make you groan, the awkward angle making your legs sore.
“Master~”
He lifts his feet and then lightly stomps on your breast, you groan.
“I have an idea then, spread your legs slut.”
“Yes Master,” You shift yourself, making sure to expose your pussy as much as possible, hoping for some contact. Anything.
He just rests his feet on your stomach. Relaxing into it, he goes back to reading.
“Wa-, but Master~” You shift trying to move it closer to your pussy, but he presses down on your stomach, holding you in place.
“Don’t move slut,” He flexes his toes, the vibrations spreading through your stomach, the pressure keeping you distracted.
Minutes pass, if not for his feet occasionally drifting you would have lost sense of time as you lay there, unwilling to move or you risk losing your chance. The loud hum of the chair and the occasional swish of paper fading in the background as you focus more and more on those feet.
Finally the barest hint of vibrations start to spread to your clit. Ever so slightly more and more pleasure started to build up in you until finally, his heel was on your clit.
“Oh look at the time,” He closes the book, slamming it shut, bringing your eyes to his, “I suppose I should take care of my cow.”
“Yes Master, please.” You lift your hips up, but he pushes you back down, ginding his heel into your clit.
“Stay still.” He starts to rock his foot back and forth over your pussy, his socks turning dark from your lust. He looks at you amused as you struggle to stay still, your bare pussy ground into by the texture of the sock.
Pleasure, pain, lust. You are lost in the pleasure HE gave you. But not for long.
The pleasure disappears and then he gently stomps on your pussy. “Hurry up cow, I don’t have a lot of time to play with you,” He stomps again, adding slightly more pressure as she starts to grind his foot on your pussy picking up the pace.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry, you slow slut."
Stomp, stomp, stomp, grind. He starts using both of his feet, raising the chairs vibrations to add to the pleasure as he assaults your pussy with his feet.You get lost in the feeling again, your own moaning filling the room.
“Faster, faster, faster.” You see a sadistic glee in his eyes as he gently kicks your pussy before grinding again, faster and faster.
“You’re enjoying this, right slut?”
“Yes master, your cow slut enjoys it so much!”
“You like that? My feet, grinding into you?”
“Yes! Yes!”
Then he suddenly stops. “I’m getting tired. What’s taking you so long? Are my feet not good enough for you?” He growls.
“They’re perfect Master~” You moan out. He stomps down again with a little more force.
“Then what's taking so long?” He switches feet, pressing a dry sock against your pussy, quickly soaking it before he starts grinding his heel into your pussy, finally driving you to orgasm painting his socks in even more of your juices.
“Finally.” He says, pushing one of his feet into your face. “Look at the mess you made, clean it.”
“Yes Master~”
Click, click, click.
The sound of a clock, the tight feeling of rope and leather, your Master's feet that had just given you so much.
In a few minutes he would walk away to head to work with those feet, with those socks, and only you and him would know where they have been. In a few hours you would head to work, your work clothes hiding away the tight leathers that wrap you, your loose jacket and pants perfectly hiding them away.
Only you and he would know, and maybe when you both are done, and have finished your shifts and relax for the day, you could relax into his arms, breath in his smells, and ask him to be a bit harsh.