By Mistress Dalila

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The second I laid eyes on him I knew I wanted him, but because of our situation I subconsciously suppressed these feelings for months. Finally, after three weeks of vacation and thinking, I decided to email him. Of course I couldn't let him know who I was, at least not right away, so I made sure there was no way for him to trace me. I called him "my little lamb", that's how I had been thinking of him from the beginning and that's what he was to me. I was the Huntress and he was my prey.

We emailed back and forth for a couple of weeks and after only a few days my fantasies were becoming more and more vivid. Finally, after two weeks, the feeling that time was running out became too strong and I decided I wanted to meet him while I still had time to enjoy playing with him. I told him to give my offer some serious thought and to show up at the time and place I told him. I was fairly sure that he would be there.

I had decided to meet him in public, in a place where I felt comfortable and I knew I would be surrounded by friends. I told him to meet me at the bar where I work, which just happens to be a gay bar.

On the night I had told him to be there I was standing behind the bar. It was nine in the evening and we had just opened. There were already a dozen or so people sitting at the tables or standing at the bar when I glanced towards the door and saw him enter. My heart went nuts and I could feel a certain warmth between my legs. Of course I couldn't hide my grin as he looked around before spotting me, the recognition in his eyes as he slowly walked up to the bar. I smiled and greeted him asking if he wanted anything to drink.

We talked for an hour, between customers, and I mentioned the risk we would both be taking, though it was a greater one for him since he was my teacher at the university. We discussed it and he said he was willing to take the risk, now that he knew who I was. This pleased me greatly because it confirmed that I had been right about him. At closing time I told him to go home. I would contact him and let him know when and where.

When I got home, three hours later, the first thing I did was go online and send him an email.

"Come to my apartment, Friday night at six. And don't worry my little lamb, I won't eat you. Just nibble a little..."


That Friday I didn't have any classes so I spent the day preparing for our first encounter. I wanted everything to be perfect and I knew exactly what I wanted to do to him. I went to the beauty salon to have my hair and nails done and I even had them do my make-up, which I normally prefer to do myself. I had bought a new pair of pants the day before and now I went to pick up the black leather corset that I had ordered. Not that I need fetish-wear to play, but sometimes I feel it gives a special feel to the encounter. Plus I look damn good in leather.

When I got home I put on the black silk stockings, the lace garter, a matching bra, pants and corset that a slave once gave me for my birthday. I added the leather belt and the black leather platform heels and the ensemble was complete.

Then I proceeded to pick out the toys I wanted to use. Not many because I wanted it to be simple, yet leave a deep impression. I selected some chain, a spreader bar, braided rope, and of course my favorite, the clothes pins. There are so many different kinds of nipple clamps and I had tried most of them, but the wooden clothespins were still my favorite.

By now it was only half an hour before he would be there so I put on some relaxing music and sat down with a cup of tea so I could get into the right mood. I thought over what I had planned and as I watched the minutes pass I felt a tingling sensation all over my skin and the familiar warmth forming between my legs. This was going to be good!

The doorbell rang and I went to let him in. I caught his glance up and down my body and snickered in my mind. Not wanting to waste precious time on mindless talk when all I wanted was to get my hands, and a few other things, on him. So, without hesitation, I ushered him into my playroom.

I followed and told him to stop in the middle of the room, just beneath the hook in the ceiling. I slowly walked up behind him, watching his body betray his cocky attitude. I watched the tension in his back, his broad shoulders, the slightly heavier-than-normal breathing and I smiled. I walked around him, keeping my eyes locked on his, sensing the anticipation and, yes, slight fear. I knew he had read my stories. He knew what I liked to do to the bad little boys who dared enter my lair. But none of that for him ... "No" ... I had something different planned, a different kind of torture.

I stood in front of him, my eyes once again locked on his, and I reached my hand up to stroke his cheek, ever so gently. He flinched, almost unnoticeable, but I noticed, and my smile got slightly brighter. I traced my fingertips along his jawbone, down the side of his neck, feeling the tension. I continued down his well-built chest, across his stomach, which was hard as stone.

Controlling my own breathing I could hear his getting more labored as I now slipped my fingers back up, along his arms to his face. Following his features with my fingers I ran them up through his hair. The only thing about him that was less than perfect was his hair. I would have wanted his hair longer, but nobody's perfect. Keeping my hands on him I moved behind, repeating my movements on his back and shoulders. Then, leaning in close to him, letting him feel my warm breath on his neck and cheek, I whispered, " ... strip!"

I moved away, taking a seat in my "throne", a simple wooden chair at one end of the room, and again locked my eyes to his. I watched him struggle with himself, hesitating, then curiosity or lust took over and he slowly started to remove his shirt. I indicated he leave the skin-tight white T-shirt on and he moved on to lower his jeans.

Usually, I like my slaves smooth, with no body hair, but this one I will keep just like he is. Shaving him would be ... wrong somehow, I think.

I watched as he peeled off his socks and then hesitated at his breeches. I shook my head "no" and he went on to peel off the white T-shirt. I stood, walked over to him, took the T-shirt from his hands and tossed it on the floor. I marveled at his beautiful body, such a piece of art, and images of what I had in store for it flashed through my head. I ran a finger down his neck to his chest, resting my hand there, feeling his heart beat behind that wall of muscle and bone.

Now, his hands moved up to touch me, to pull me closer I think, but I intercepted them and with my eyes still locked on his as I pushed them back down and behind his back. I moved closer, until the dull spikes of the corset were pressed into his chest, my lips almost brushing his. And I whispered, " ... you are not to move. If you do you will see another side of me ... the one ... the only one the other slaves get to see."

I felt his erection growing and I lightly, ever so lightly, brushed my lips against his, and then moved away. I indicated that he take the breeches off as well. I could see a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

I pulled his wrists in front of him as I then got the chain from the table. I wrapped the chain around his wrists, securing them together, making sure it was tight enough that he couldn't get loose, but not too tight to stop the blood flow. I fastened the chain with a padlock and got the rope and tied it around the chain, good and tight so there was no chance of it slipping off.

That done, I fastened the rope to the hook in the ceiling. I got the spreader bar and attached it to his ankles, spreading his legs as far as possible. Then I took a step back to take a look at my strung up little lamb, hands stretched over his head and feet only barely touching the floor. I could see the fear in his eyes, but there was one more thing I needed on him. I went to get another length of rope, thinner and not so long. I sat down on a stool in front of him, the rope on the floor beside me.

Looking up, into his eyes, I reached out and took a firm grip on his balls and saw his eyes go wide. I smiled wickedly as I brought my other hand up and started fondling his cock. It didn't take long before his whole body was quivering and his every breath was a whimper. That is when I stopped my fondling and brought the rope up, tying his balls off. I pulled the rope around them then between his testicles, making them poke out on either side, the skin all stretched over them. Then I tied the rope around the shaft of his prick, spiraling it up, and tying it off just below the rim of the head. I stroked my hand along his stiff cock, then teasingly ran a fingernail over the swollen head, feeling him shiver and hearing him moan.

I stood up and moved closer to him, my hands caressing his stomach and chest, my fingers finding his nipples. I flicked one lightly with the fingernail, then bent down to kiss it, circling it with the tip of my tongue, grazing it lightly with my teeth. By now this one was as erect as his penis and, with a gentle bite, I moved on to the other one, giving it the same treatment. I took both nipples between my fingers, rolling them gently, then tweaking them hard, and making him gasp.

Never for one instant did I take my eyes from his and now I watched how the well-known impulses of pleasure and pain reached his brain at the same time, mixed, making his mind start to drift off.

I took the rope tied to his genitals and fastened it to an eyebolt in the wall, making it very painful for him to move away. Then I stroked his penis a few times, teasing the purple, swollen head with my fingernails. I was rewarded by a loud moan of mixed pain and pleasure. I smiled.

I moved away, this time to the small oak cabinet on the wall behind him, from which I took the soft leather whip. I stroked the strands of the whip lovingly, this one my first slave gave me for the signing of our contract. I hadn't used it on anyone but it was time. It had been my most cherished item, and it had been sitting in this cabinet for years, waiting for the right person to come along. And, here I had him, tied up and at my mercy. Now was the time to use my favorite whip for the first time.

I walked back in front of him and held the whip loosely by my side, looking at him, taking in the sight of this beautiful sculpture of a male, bound for my pleasure. Then I brought the whip up for him to see and I explained to him how much it meant to me for him to give me his pain and that after the pain there would be pleasure. I had told him in my emails how it would be so he wasn't surprised. I could see my words sinking in and the fear returned to his eyes. I let the strands of the whip softly caress his bound genitals, then brought it back and down on his sensitized nipples.

The gasp told me the sensations had sunk in and I let the second stroke fall, then the third, a fourth, as I established a rhythm that soon had him moaning through his tears while he sobbed from the pain. Then, sobbing, almost whispering, came the word I had been waiting for: " ... mercy". I ended the whipping with one more blow, harder than the others, making him scream with pain.

I put the whip down on the table and moved in close to him, running my hands across the welts on his chest, gently caressing, I leaned in to kiss and lick his sore nipples. I continued licking, moving my tongue down his chest and stomach, then back up again. As my fingers played with his nipples, my tongue slowly moves up his neck. He moaned. This was too much for me and, as I stood up straight, I pressed against him, my lips found his. I kissed him hard, passionately, my tongue pressing into his mouth. I could feel him straining against his bonds, and this only got me more excited. I moved away to undo the rope that held his genitals fastened to the wall. I slowly untied his cock and testicles, the former immediately springing to life. I removed the spreader bar and tied his ankles together with the rope. Then I unfastened the shackle that held his arms from the hook in the ceiling. I unlocked the padlock and removed the chain. I pushed him down on his knees and pulled his arms behind his back where I tied one wrist to the rope around his ankles, leaving the other one free.

I stood behind him, whispering in his ear to start masturbating. I wanted him to stroke his cock for me. As he gingerly started stroking his sore prick, I stood behind him, caressing his chest, softly, teasingly, running my hands all over him. Occasionally I would rake my fingernails along the welts from the whipping. The whimpers of pain soon turned to moans of pleasure as he stroked his stiff prick faster, his breathing getting heavier. I sensed he was about to go over the edge so I took his wrist and stopped him. I pulled his hand behind him and tied it off as well, then kneeling on the floor behind him I reached around, took his still sore cock in my hand, feeling the smoothness of the skin, gently, slowly moving my hand up and down. The moans turned to whimpers again as I cooed: "Let me hear you beg, my little lamb. Beg me to let you cum."

He begged. His voice was a little boy's voice, not at all like the one he used in the classroom. There was no power in his tone, only desperate needs, which I denied.

I stopped my stroking, but only to untie his hands and have him crawl over to the table. I demanded that he lie quietly while I tied him spread-eagle on the table, then got up on top of him. I lowered my crotch to an inch from his face, then all the way down, covering his face with my wet cunt. I ordered him to lick me and lightly touched his throbbing cock. As he started licking, I resumed my stroking, this time also fondling his balls. It wasn't long before I had a wonderful orgasm, smothering him with my cum. Then I got off him and ordered him to cum. He did and I caught it all in my hand. When I had milked him dry I brought my hand up to his mouth and ordered him to lick it clean. There was no hesitation. He licked all of his cum off my fingers and then sucked them one by one as I slipped them into his mouth.

I untied the rope and he didn't move. I leaned down and kissed him softly, gently probing his mouth with my tongue, tasting both of our sexes. His hands moved up tentatively and I took hold of his wrists. I broke the kiss and smiled at him, told him how good he had made me feel, that I was very pleased. I rubbed some oil into his chest to make it heal faster, then told him to get up, get dressed and to join me in the kitchen where I went to make some tea.

Now was the time for talk.

Copyright © Mistress Dalila, 1999.
Not to be reprinted, reposted or distributed in any other way
Without the consent of the author.

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