He nods, and smiles. “Whatever they cost.”
She tells him what they cost.
He arches an eyebrow. “Really?”
She nods. "Really."
“Well, if that’s what brand new Louboutin’s set you back these days,”
He counts £20 notes onto her bedside table as she makes herself up. She watches him in her dressing table mirror.
“And you know the conditions, don’t you?” he questions.
She nods and smiles, “I know the conditions.”
He knelt naked with his knees parted, his hands behind his back, and his head bowed. She paced around him, her new heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She loved her new heels. His thickly erect cock twitched as she bound his wrists tightly together with the length of soft white rope she held. It excited him. He breathed deeply. He parted his knees a little more.
She stood before him, posing, with her hands on her hips. Her legs were bare, from her open-toe, high heeled sandals, to her mid thigh, tight black skirt. Her skin had a deep tan; a sign of her Mediterranean heritage, with a sheen of light perspiration. She was excited too.
“OK, you pathetic snivelling worm. You know what I need from you. You know what you need to do for me. You've done it before, and now you'll do it again. In fact you'll do it each and every time I ask it from you. You are my little bitch. A whore for me whenever I want. You have no choice but to obey and serve me. You will be my little cum whore. Just at the sight of me in heels, you will spill your load for me; just when I say,” she sneered.
He groaned, and a bead of clear pre cum appeared from the eye of his cock, and dripped to the floor. He was so hard for her. So aroused. So desperate for her words. He needed her to make him cum. He needed to worship her; to crave her. Wanting her made him happy. Desiring her made him complete.
“Let’s do this,” she smiled. She ran her fingers up her thighs, and raised her skirt a little. He could see the swell of her thighs, the beauty of her body; the beauty that drove him on and made him a weak pathetic fool.
She loved talking down to him; calling him her slut and whore, verbally abusing him. It filled her with a sense of power and sexual energy.
She loved the way he writhed and moaned as she spoke. He was wide eyed, drinking in her every curve, entirely in her thrall.
“How old am I?” she questioned.
“You’re twenty,” he whimpered.
“And how old are you?”
“I’m forty five,”
“You dirty, dirty man,” she sneered.
She slid her ankle between his legs, close to his hard cock. He pressed forward, and she drew back a little. He was straining at his bonds. He was in sweet agony. She smiled. She knew he was there. Waiting for her word.
She loved making him cum.
“On the count of three,” she smiled.
“You will cum!”
“Thought you were there!"
“Well not quite,"
He looked to the ceiling, as he spattered her heels with cum.
(For a gorgeous friend x)
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.