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Musings behind the Masque

Thoughts and writings of my humble self. Please, enjoy.
2 years ago. June 19, 2021 at 5:28 PM

D- tightened his fingers and watched her climax, straining against his grip and the bindings at her wrists and ankles, wood creaking where the rope strained against the bed frame.  As he relaxed and allowed her to recover, D-’s mind began to wander to the events of the day that led him here.  Long hours at the office trying to finish all his reports before the weekend let out, politics of the workplace leaving him on edge as the coming board vote on whether CEO T- would continue to guide the fate of the company or if, more likely, D-’s friend the executive director would be installed instead.  The bustling throngs of rush hour still managed to greet him despite his late exit from work, the crowd of the train adding to growing tension in his shoulders and jaw.  At last home, the final rays of sunlight managing to linger just long enough for him to enjoy a few moments watching amber hues over the deepening blue of the ocean while he undid tie and doffed jacket before entering the apartment.


Darkness greeted him.  Unexpected, though not altogether unwanted tonight.  D- flipped on the lights and checked his watch, he knew how late it was but confirmation was a ritual of its own, then his phone to ensure he’d not missed a call or text, nothing.  Hanging jacket and tie, taking off shoes to quiet his step, he prowled through the rooms.  Living room and kitchen first, then his bedroom, home office, and finally her room.  Nothing was out of place, bedclothes neat, the sinks dry.  So, she’d left for work of her own and not yet returned.  Nothing for it but to wait, but the waiting was delayed gratification.  Truthfully, he knew her day was likely as stressful and long as his own, earlier in the week she’d mentioned having to prep a case for a new client and while she had promised the schedule would be adhered to and not a single rule broken D- knew that at least once this week M- would have to stay out late.  He chose the office for his wait, the heavy leather chair in the corner of the room would let him see her when M- passed the entryway giving her time to compose herself for him.  Some preparation first though, he put his shoes back on and went to his bedroom and readied bindings and accoutrement.  Then, a bottle of wine and a book would help him to relax in the meantime.  Riesling, this one drier than normal with a bit of citrus to it, and an old copy of a science fiction novel kept him company for his wait, phone and wine glass set on the small table to the side of the chair.


A single text to her, and then a very long hour passed.  The sound of keys in the lock attracted his attention and D- cast a glance over the pages, it was a long breath before she moved to where he could see her.  M- looked bedraggled and guilty, hair hanging loose from the bun she wore for work and eyes downcast, she saw him looking and answered with an apologetic smile.  D- felt his heart stir, empathy bubbling up, but already he had his mask in place.  There was a role to play and it would not do to let things slip, eyes back on the page and he heard the clicks of her heels in hurried steps to her bedroom.  Two turns of the page and a sip of wine later and D- could feel her presence as she entered the office, words blurred before him as his attention was directed away from the book but he didn’t let his gaze move even as she approached his side, as she knelt next to him.


“Explain yourself.” D- kept his voice steady, even as he wished desperately to ask after particulars and provide comfort to his mate.

“I’m sorry,” she was nearly in tears, “I wanted to be here on time but things ran over and-”

“And you were unable to message?”

“My phone died and by the time I noticed I was already on my way home.” She whimpered, voice almost begging him to turn and look at her.

“And your emergency battery wasn’t available?” He flicked a quick glance and his heart nearly skipped a beat seeing her, but he focused on her hands.  She had them where they’d rehearsed and trained, she wanted the discipline tonight, both palms up as they were being the signal they’d agreed on.  If M- had wanted him to be soft, to provide immediate comfort, to forget the rules for a time, she only had to sit in any other position and he’d drop the mask.

“I drained it on Wednesday at court and forgot to recharge it.”

“I see.” D- allowed the silence to linger, kept his gaze on the book, turned a page.  Attention was what M- most craved, but she must earn it, so she would wait.  As M- realized that talk was done for now she shifted and D- heard the rattle of the chain, an altogether different tension built in his shoulders.


D- took a final sip of wine, but left the glass just under half full, a little preparation goes a long way, and set his book aside to finally give her his attention.  M- wore her collar, a chain leash attached and hanging down to pile on the floor before looping back up to where the leather grip rested between her teeth.  Her caramel skin contrasted well with the white lingerie she wore.  He knew that she’d not have had the time between leaving his sight and entering his room to change her underwear, taking off blouse and skirt, changing into the matching white heels she now wore, and putting on collar and leash were her limit in speed.  She’d worn those lacy panties and bra for him all day, knowing that he would marvel at the display.  Her makeup was light, had D- not known what to look for it would likely have totally escaped him.  Just enough eyeshadow and mascara to make her deep brown eyes go from merely enchanting to twin pools of Stygian darkness drawing him in.  The blush he knew was her own, the flush having spread from cheeks to neck and the tops of her breasts, though the pink of her lips was surely lipstick.  Had they not had the dynamic between them they had, he’d very much have liked to worship this beautiful goddess before him.  Instead, he extended a hand to beneath her chin and she let the leash slip from between her lips and drop neatly into his hand.


D- rose, taking the wine glass in his free hand as he did so, and walked into the living room.  A slight tug at the leash brought M- crawling along, almost scampering to keep up.  She had excellent form, he had to give her that, turning what would have been an awkward movement for most into something graceful, even with the practice she’d had he marvelled at her.  Halting at the waist high counter that separated the living room from kitchen, he set the glass down and turned toward her.  A tug at the leash and she rose.

“Well, how would you like to make it up to me not having your battery recharged and ready?”

In answer she stepped past him and placed her palms on the counter, thrusting her hips back and arching.  D- smiled, that would work nicely.  As he began striking her ass with his palm he channeled the stress of long hours, at his stinging smack he felt some of the tension in his jaw fade, with each of her whimpers escaping bitten lip a bit worry slipped from him.  It wouldn’t do to spend all weekend worrying over politics, this was an excellent way to solve that issue.  M-’s cheeks began to redden through the caramel of her flesh, and D- thought of sugary apple treats at fall festivals from before he moved to the city.


A few more well aimed strikes, and it was time to rest, D- allowed his hand to linger after the final one, lightly cupping the tenderized flesh, gliding down and between M-’s cheeks.  His touch was light through her panties as he rubbed his middle finger against her sex, testing her wetness.  She was ready if he wanted it, needing release from the accumulated worries of the world as badly as he.  She needed more release than that, so did he.  A twist of his wrist and the slack of lease shortened considerably before he hauled back, forcing her to stand, her arms moving to cross behind her back as she did.  Even in heels D- had a head of height on her and her gazing up at him triggered some deep instinct in him, predator and protector warring within him.  Now that he thought of it, there was entirely too much lipstick upon her.  A finger dipped in the wine and then went to her lips, outlining them as she sighed and let her tongue slide out to taste the libation, taste his finger.  It occurred that D- had partaken of alcohol and M- had not, this would not do at all.  He withdrew his finger and took up the wine glass, sipping without swallowing and filling his mouth before leaning in for a kiss.  The first kiss of the night was its own sort of magic even without the wine, but as she drank it in from D-’s mouth he felt her melt against him.  He broke contact and stared down at her, some of the fruit of the vine had escaped their joined lips and a pair of trickles had rolled from each corner of her mouth and dripped onto M-’s breasts.  D- leaned down and licked away the small mess, tasting the cinnamon he always did on her flesh.  He still wasn’t certain if the flavor was from a body wash or it was simply her, but he’d come to associate it with bubbling joy since the relationship had begun.


Her gasp grabbed his attention again, her nipples hardened enough to be visible through her bra.  If D- continued on the current course then things would end far too rapidly.  Standing to his full height, he released slack on the leash and looped the chain under the arch of his foot.  Lifting his hand, his foot became pulley and dragged M- steadily to her knees.  She fumbled at his zipper, removing him from the confines of black slacks, and her mouth went to work.  Shortly, D- had his first release of the evening, shivering.  Mind cleared, he cast his thoughts to the rest of the scene he’d prepared and returned his hardness to within the folds of his pants.  Eyes met and lingered, smiles hastily concealed behind the masks of their parts, then they were off to D-’s bedroom.  Two pats with his hand upon the bed and M- almost slithered into her place kneeling at the end of the mattress.  Slow tracing of his fingers up her spine to the clasp of her bra, undoing it and letting it slip free.  Hands upon shoulders, gliding down, he drew back her arms behind her and wrapped the leash around her wrists, a simple restraint.  She waited in place as he lit candles around the room and turned off the lights, finally the place flickered as it should have when he got home earlier that evening.


The blade came out.  A single edged thing, sharpened to a razor, blade only a few inches long and slightly curved, black hilt almost disappearing in the wan light.  He drew her back against his chest, taking her collar in his free hand and looping his fingers around it.  She gasped as he played the blade lightly across her stomach, the barest touch from the blunt side and the very tip.  Up flanks and across thighs, circling breasts, following the curves of her body.  Each thin scratch conjured a hiss, a gasp, a low moan from M-.  The point wasn’t pain, and she didn’t fear his ministrations he knew, the point was the sudden adrenaline and the knowledge that but for his control and love this sort of play could have a very different outcome.  When her breaths were coming fast, D- took her in an embrace and kissed her, tongues massaging each other.  He reversed the grip on the blade and held it safely out of the way, pulling her closer with his arm and let his other hand relax from collar and venture south.  He tested her again, learning her wetness, and knew it was time.  Folding the knife closed and casting it aside, D- twisted M- first onto her side then back, and then his lips and tongue went to work.  Each small scratch was tended by kisses and warm breath.  He tried to keep a somewhat random pattern as he did so, but he found himself moving in variations of prior play.  That was acceptable, anticipation of reward was pleasure for M- all its own.  D- worked his way to each wrist, and kissing each finger he slipped the rope on, simple ties but effective still.  Then down the thighs and calves, removing panties, nibbling at her ankles as they too were bound.


Staring down at her, D- marvelled at her, found her wondrous as she writhed and strained against her bonds.  Stripping to join her in nakedness, he let his hands roam and explore while his mouth did its own work.  Time began to slip away, marked only by the waves of tautness and release of M-’s body, her moans a music of their own.  Time came when D- could no longer contain his own desires and he joined the two of them, uniting in one flesh and breath synchronized.  Fingers beneath her collar, the scent of the leather interspersed with sweat and candle smoke and cinnamon and his own cologne, he tightened his grip so that his knuckle pressed into the side of her throat in precisely the right spot and he could see from her eyes as her vision began to swim.  Waves of muscular contraction and relaxation once more, her the tides and he her moon.  His own breath had grown ragged, what control he had was beginning to fail and in the final stretch he allowed himself to give in.


Releasing ties and knots, freeing her so that they may lay together, heads still spinning from exertion, he chuckled as her head nestled against the hair of his chest.  M-’s look was attentive, if a little confused.  “That was for the battery, tomorrow we’ll need to repay you for being late.”  She greeted his comment with a self satisfied giggle and nuzzled into him once more.  A thought occurred to D-, they were already late getting home and this had taken some time, all the delivery places had to be closed.  He supposed after a little rest he could make them both some sandwiches.

2 years ago. June 10, 2021 at 6:28 AM

Nestled into the corner of the cafe, sipping coffee and relaxing together, her laughter bell-like and clear.  In this private little cubby I looked upon my friend and thought of her beauty and my fortune that she would bless me with her presence and her care.  Her skin the color of my adulterated beverage, cream and bitter potion in equal portions, her hair and eyes matching her own dark coffee though more luminous and enchanting.  We spoke of new jobs, new changes in life, new distractions from the stresses we each bore, and somewhere the conversation shifted, she asked after my particular appetites.  I'd acquired some new toys and told her of them, and her head lifted.

She hesitated a moment, quietly I watched, and then she filled the silence, "I'm not sure if I would like some of those."

"Which ones?" I asked, she told me.  I nodded, asked whether she was curious what they were like.  She stared into her cup, was she watching her own reflection while she pondered my question?  Curiosity became proposal and soon we found ourselves in more private confines.  My soon to be lover rubbed at her arm as she sat on the bed, glancing around the room, at my kit as I set it out, the blank screen of the television, the droning wall mounted air conditioner, anywhere but directly at me.  My heart had begun to quicken the moment we'd left the cafe and gotten in the car, and now it pounded nearly out of my chest.  Beloved friend was soon to become lover if this course kept and my mind filled with half-doubts.  Could she be thinking as I?  A deep breath while she wasn't looking, an appearance of calm necessary even as my mouth went dry and heart wild, and then sitting by her side.  The silence felt like a void, vacuum wanting to be filled but no words would come, then I felt her hand on mine and reflex took over, fingers intertwining.

My voice was gentler than I thought it could be, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"Yes."  Her response was instant.

"And you remember the rules we talked about?"

She nodded and met my eyes for the first time since we'd entered the room, her scent orange blossom and honey and strawberries and I felt the mask come on me.  Fear and uncertainty fled, my other self took over, and our lips met.  In a moment she was beneath me and even as I began my caress I could feel her need mixing with mine, raw and tempestuous.  My inner beast called out, demanded immediate answer to the hunger, but the mask and my love for her locked it beneath chains.  She would know me at my most controlled, she would know the particular pleasure I'd promised her.  She pawed at me, dragging me to her and I caught her wrists and took them behind her, pinning them.  Her tongue met mine and sought to draw me in but I pulled back to keep my lips just at the edge of her reach.  Dark and lovely friend writhed there as my lightest touches covered her body, undressing her, setting nerves to tingling and stoking her need even as my own rose to fevered inferno beneath the control of my mask.  I began the long play, the symphony of sensation as I knew it, no part of her was stranger to my touch by the end, and I learned her taste.  The first interlude began and I traced a line of kisses up her stomach and between her breasts before meeting her mouth and pulling her against me, melting together.  Hot, panting breaths escaped between paired lips many times before parting and looking once more into one another's eyes.

Long moments before I could speak, "Are you ready for what comes next?"

An answering nod and we shifted.  Fingers laced in her hair, gentle but firm and I moved to the edge of the bed and drew her along.  She took her place, and I waited until comfort was found, her weight draped across my thigh.  A slight roll of my wrist in her hair and I was looking into those beautiful pools again, seeing my own reflection as she must see me, and my first strike fell.  She yipped and I waited, the initial impact was sometimes tough to judge but her smile told me I was right.  More strikes and a pattern took shape, my palm stinging with each completed movement as free wrist and elbow described a figure eight through the air, her ass growing slightly redder with each pass.  Bitten lip to contain gasps, she squirmed some as I paused.  Releasing her hair and nodding she moved to her next position, and I to mine.  An item from my kit in each hand, I approached her from behind, kissed her neck, made sure she wanted to continue, handed her what she would control, and pulled back to wait.  As she sat at the end of the bed, bending over, sweaty skin glistening in the wan light, I could see she was mine.  The marks of my hand across her rear that would be added to shortly were only the thinnest of claim.  The ripple of muscle beneath skin as she twisted, the looks she gave me seeking approval as she traced the movements we'd discussed, the way she had called my name as she'd tensed while my tongue had worked... those, one and all, stronger signs she belonged to me.  In position, she turned on the vibrator I'd given her and within moments began to moan, her sensitivity growing greater and greater.  I was instantly and painfully erect, as I'd been at each stage since her blouse had come off, as she'd struggled against me trying to undress me in turn.  Three deep inhalations and my work began.  The paddle slapped and she gasped.  Again.  Again.  Again.  Rhythm took over, mechanical and methodical.  This was her portion of the play to end, me but playing the actor's role and keeping my arms moving, fifteen strokes to one cheek, alternate, repeat.  She climaxed and raised a hand, I stopped, waited, caressed and kissed her back.  Her hand came down, she nodded and spoke the command to begin again and we repeated.  Three times she came, each time a bit harder, each pause a little longer.

There's power in threes, some mystical or fae thing, exhaustion nearly took her there as she lay panting, but desire and curiosity to know what came next pushed her onward.  The last act arrived, and I put the paddle down and took up the crop.  She'd picked the final goal, one hundred swats, as she edged with the vibrator and kept herself on the very border of euphoria.  A set of ten, then a tease of the crop's tress along her untouched back and down to welt covered buttocks and thighs, even the lightest touches across reddened flesh drawing gasps from her now.  Counting aloud, ninety-five, tears carrying mascara and staining sheets, ninety-six, biting a pillow to stifle moans and shouts, ninety-seven, she began to squirm with the vibrator in her hands.  Ears straining to see if she would call me off, eyes alert to any movement from her hands to let me know she'd hit her limit, the last three swats barely registered to me.  Screams barely muffled by the pillow before her, a convulsion that shook the bed, and she peaked.  At her side in an instant, my own tools set aside and taking hers away with a gentle hand, she was utterly beautiful in the moment's glance I had before she clung to me and buried her face against my chest.  One couldn't be sure how long I held her there, how long until the sobs and giggles escaping her in equal measure calmed, or how long it was before I realized she was unbuttoning my shirt.  This time I didn't fight my need as she kissed me, didn't try to control or slip behind the mask, didn't seek to check her movements.  She had become mine beneath marks left by open palm and paddle and crop, I became hers as I filled her and she marked my back with sharp nails.  We lay entangled after this final act, her ultimate addition to the perfomance, giggling and tracing featherlight touches and sweet kissing and speaking of coffee.