marquiseoftease: Oh my word, I love everything about this. Him, hooded, collared, tied, gagged - onl
marquiseoftease: Oh my word, I love everything about this. Him, hooded, collared, tied, gagged - only the holes under the nostrils making the difference between being vulnerable and suffocating. He can hear his own heartbeat, the blood rushing through his veins, his scarce bodily hair standing on top, his skin, damp from sweat, registering every movement of air. He is exposed, so exposed, so vulnerable. He stirs under my gentle touches, under my fingertips brushing up and down his thighs, sometimes “accidentally” touching his cum filled balls. That’s when his cock, my cock, twitches manic in its cage. I will claim him as my bitch, my slut, my whore, fuck his tight arse with my strap on. He knows this, because we both crave the same thing - my conquering of his body as much as his mind. My fucking and stretching of his boy pussy, with my fingers, my hand, my girl cock. But not yet. Later. When he thinks I’m done with him, when he believes I have forgotten about it. Later. First, his nipples. His beautiful pink joy buds. I circle them with my fingers for a while, pinching lightly before adding little bites. I can tell from his muffled moans and his leaking cock how much he likes this. But it’s not enough, today I want to overload his senses. It’s time for the clamps, and to be honest with you, I almost feel physical pain myself when their little teeth bite into his sensitive skin. He will take the pain. For me. And maybe because he’s a little pain slut. It does not matter, because I decide when, where and how. My rules. As the clamps dig into his flesh and he realises what’s happening to him, his body convulses. I give him a few seconds to adjust, slowly caressing his face over the hood while blowing cool breath on his nips. “Are you ok my love?” I ask, my lips almost touching the leather of his hood. He can hear me and nods. “Talk to me my boy” … “Yff, yff m k” - I have learnt to understand what he says into his gag. I caress his hood again, kissing it on the forehead, both cheeks, over the gag. We love this intimacy. My lips close around his nose and immediately his body tenses. So vulnerable. Then he realises I’m breathing for both of us and starts inhaling my breath. He is now literally clinging onto me for sheer life. So much responsibility. So much trust. So much intimacy. I got you, babe, don’t worry. As he calms and eases into my rhythm, my hands find the clamps and start toying with them - more distraction, more sensual overload for him. He sucks the air out of me, breathing heavily as I slowly start pulling the nipple chain. More cage twitching, more leaking. I smile, happy and proud, and release my lips from around his nose. I grant him a few seconds of fresh air supply. “You are a good boy, aren’t you?” He nods “yff, yrs” (“yes, yours” - sweet, huh?) “And do you like being at my mercy like that?” Vigorous nod “yff, yff I d..” More caressing of his face through the leather hood, more slight pulling of the nipple chain. Instant reaction in the cage, rivers of delicious cock tears oozing out of the metal bars restraining his erection. “I will show you what truly being at my mercy feels like …” And with that I place the palm of my hand under his chin, pushing his lower jaw upwards, harder into the gag inside the hood, while my fingers close around the nostrils and block all of his oxygen supply off. I can see his internal fight to remain calm. He has literally no way out of this if I don’t let him. At my mercy - he now understands the full impact of these three words. “Ssshhh, calm” I reassure him. “You’re mine and you’re safe!” -- source link