New Year Story for a boy

This evening, I am hosting a small gathering of intimates. Since my girl is visiting, we are at a hotel, as I've just moved and haven't settled in. In the suite, friends, a mix of women and men are talking, noshing, generally being the smart, entertaining nutballs they are. I put this group together with an eye toward the best comedy among my crowd, knowing that I would sit back and laugh all night. I have my computer up, and as they are used to me taking notes, it is of little consequence and not intrusive or rude.

I am imagining you here, to help us bring in the New Year. I know that the men friends will leave early, off to pursue more vigorous celebrations, leaving Mari, Ami, Amelia, Kat, and me. All these friends would know the particulars of my life and so you would be serving through the evening. As the men left, I would tell you to undress and put on your apron. Each of my women friends is enlightened and, while neither Mari, Ami, nor Kat is an FLR proponent, they are certainly appreciative of the male form, and they love me and always learn from the coloring outside the lines of my life. When not serving, you would be kneeling by my side. I would notice that Kat had a sore ankle, and direct you to her to rub her foot. She would be very loquacious at your strong hands and appreciative of your efforts. I would smile to see her pleased.

Mari is my dearest friend of lo, these many years. Ami is a few years our senior, and we've known one another since college. The two of them are straight and vanilla, also very strong and independent, brilliant and beautiful. Ami is Irish and one of the most hysterically funny women I know. A linguist, she regularly spices up a conversation with a brogue that switches into a country twang, and then I'm back at my cowgirl roots and we are off on another tangent. Through this, I would ask you to lay your hands on Mari's neck. I could see her hunching her shoulders and know that she has yet again worked at her computer until she can't un-hunch. your fingers would work out her knots.

For company, the CB6 would be off, and you would wear pink panties, which would highlight your erection at every contact. I would touch you discretely when you passed me, just keeping you excited. amelia would be some vexed, not quite knowing where to be or how, as the recent change in our relationship still has her struggling a bit for her new space. Not slave, not submissive, although still wanting both, nevertheless, she would look admiring at you and see the smile on my face and she would be pleased.

Near the midnight hour, I tell you to please go to the table and take off your apron and lie on your back. Perplexed, you comply, of course, not before noting the wicked grins on Kat, Amelia's and my face, and the blush on Mari's and Ami's.

Naked on the table (laid with a black cloth for the evening) you wait. amelia comes in and brings fruit and begins laying it on your belly. Kat brings chocolate sauce (these are women, there must therefore be chocolate, although I do not share that seemingly universal love), and decorates the fruit. Ami brings berries, adds them to your belly. The fruit is cool, the sensation bring gooseflesh. Each of us sits at the table and I pass champagne to each of them. I raise my glass and say, "To my beloved women, may 2009 bring you shalom -- the peace that derives from ha-o-lam, from wholeness. May you enjoy high adventure, low brow humor, and absolute health. And, right now, please enjoy your dessert off my fine platter. Je vous salute!"

They toast, drink, and begin sopping up the chocolate along your skin, teasing you mercilessly. amelia is boldest and dribbles chocolate on your manhood, then leans in to taste it with her tongue. (she has served as the dessert tray many a time and is delighted to be one of the diners rather than the tray). Kat is soon licking your nipples as Mari and Ami contain themselves to the fruit. I am standing at your head, watching my friends enjoy their dessert, mind steps ahead to the dessert that awaits me.

The women are full of champagne, fruit, and chocolate. you are sticky and stiff. The ladies take their leave, heading home to beat the craziness on the roads. I tell you to shower and come back to me. This is the 10th day since last I allowed your release. In that span of time, you have been teased by my friends, have serviced me with your tongue on several occasions, and I have played with your backside to near release every day. you are battling your brain, thinking surely tonight.....but, you have learned that even though I plan and you can sometimes guess outcomes, my quick devious Gemini brain loves to surprise. So, you try hard to not imagine when next....

Out of the shower, you come to me, and before you kneel, I slip the PA out of the tip of your manhood and tell you to get on the bed, on all fours. I bring the blindfold because I want you to focus on sensation, not visual stimuli. you hear me stepping into my strapon and you try to relax. I am glad to be tall, but wish I had a couple more inches of reach. you are required to wear your hair long enough for me to be able to grab it when I wish. I am not natively Sadistic, evil from time to time, yes, but pain is a thing about which I am circumspect. Forceful firmness, absolutely. I want to control you, simply, and for you to feel overpowered. I begin narrating as you feel me at your backside, lube, fingers, slowly opening you. "pet, feel My strength....try to get away....struggle..." you do not. I smack your butt and say, "STRUGGLE!" you try to get away, flattening, and immediately, I'm on top of you, have you in a camel clutch. I only hold you for a moment, not wanting truly to subdue you, simply to make certain you know that I could..."good boy, love, now come back up." you are breathing hard and now, I notice, fully turgid. I lightly rub your manhood and go back to my former place at your backside. "open for me, boy, take me inside you...." you feel My cock opening you and soon, you feel me against your prostate, teasing, driving you crazy. I can FEEL you warring with yourself, wanting to not achieve release this way, wanting a deeper connection. I bring you close several times and back off, you moan softly, sweating lightly. Finally, I slowly withdraw. "turn over, pet," I whisper as I take off the blindfold.

you comply and I lay the length of you, softly playing my hand across your chest. I love to play you, and spend a lot of time doing so. Tonight, though, away from the busy-ness of our lives, I want to mark the passing of the year, our first together. "may I serve you, Ma'am?" "no, john, just be still. Kiss me, pet." The kiss is the beginning of a conversation, the first step in the lovers' dance. I am taken with how well you've learned to listen, and that shows in your kiss. The call and response of my tongue to yours, I lick your lips, nibble them, pulling gently, then begin thrusting my tongue rhythmically in your mouth, slow, then steadily faster, deeper. As I do so, your pelvis begins to rock softly, and I feel myself engorge. I am hungry for you, pet. without breaking the kiss, I swing on top of you and take you inside of me, pushing down onto you. you reach up and we embrace hard, you half sitting up as I ride you. I am very careful to not ride too fast, although that takes a Herculean effort. I separate from you and put my hands on your shoulders and my breast in your mouth, cooing to you, "That's good, boy, harder, yes, good..."

I then lean and take your nipples, each in turn, in my mouth, teasing and sucking them. you groan and push against me, and I stop, again, trying to prolong the coupling. I look down at you, flushed, sweating, and find myself with tears in my eyes that wash down over you. I am still trying to wrap my brain around the reality of you. you catch the emotion and smile softly. I say, "john, thank you for your service, dear pet. Happy New Year." leaning in again to kiss you, this time, I tighten on you and ride hard, fast, and begin to shake as your manhood plunges again and again inside me, triggering my own release. you feel the spasms gripping you and I say, "Yes! Give Me your gift, boy, NOW!"

Kissing you, you scream into my mouth, shock wave after shock wave rocking your body.

Until finally, spent, heart racing, you relax.

I straighten out lying still mostly on top, feeling you slip out, sighing.

I wrap my hand around your manhood and we fall asleep, sated, in ways that neither of us could have imagined.

boy

"Come, boy."

he turned from the sink, wiping his hands on the bright white dish towel, dutiful servant. he wore a white apron with a bib and ruffle and nothing more, save the 2" black pumps and Aneros insertable that nobody would know was there unless they watched his face battling to stay focused from the chronic stimulation, knowing he would be punished if he dared give in to the pleasure.

his expression as he turned, what can I say? It was beatific. Taller than Me by five inches if we each are barefoot, this evening, I equalized a bit by wearing six inch platform patent leather strap-ins, making the difference only marginal. he came to Me, knelt, legs spread, palms up on his nicely developed thighs.

"Worship."

he carefully unzipped My black spandex pants, not knowing what he would find. he gasped in a ragged breath as he extracted My perpetually turgid favorite black cock. his hands went immediately behind his back, and Mine to his head as he opened his mouth wide to take Me in. I held fast, letting him have a moment to adjust, to lubricate My rod before forcing Myself through his throat sphincter.

"That's it, pretty, make Mistress happy. Mmm, take Me..." Pushing his lips all the way into My belly, rocking back and forth, knowing he could not breathe, right to the edge, and then letting him back off. I tilted his head up to see him, eyes watering, rich spit flowing from his lips to My phallus. his eyes shone, and I said, "you do please Me, boy. you worked very hard this week, I have a gift for you. Please do your obesiance and then come with Me." he wiped My phallus with his apron, kissed it, and zipped My pants, and said, "You honor me, Mistress. Thank You for allowing me to please You."

I turned and went down the hall to My bedroom and stopped at the door, blocking it. he began to kneel as I stood, but I stopped his descent, seeking his member under the apron. Fully erect, as I anticipated, I felt his girth and the heat emanating, and grinned evilly. I pulled him to Me for a kiss, finding his tongue, dancing, nibbling his lips. his hunger telegraphed itself to Me, yet his disciplined restraint never slipped.

I stepped away from the door and he saw the suit bag hanging in front of the closet sporting a large red bow. "Go ahead, pretty. Open it." I lounged on the edge of the bed and watched as he reached to unzip the bag, carefully folding back the cover to expose black silk. A jacket and slacks, with a cut that was distinctly different, soft almot cowl neck collar on the jacket, tucked in a bit at the waist. The dense lush black of fine silk, with silk lining, a deep forest green.

"Please take special note of the construction of the trousers, boy." The slacks also exquisitely tailored, made for his long frame, with one delightful difference: the zipper in the fly did not end, but went the entire length of the seam, so that a devilish Mistress who desired access could unzip from the back, taking Her boy in all manner of opportune and inopportune occasions. He found the odd construction and immediately turned bright red.

I laughed and said, "The rest is here, boy," pointing to the boxes on the bed. The look on his face was worth the expense. He knelt next to the bed and opened the box with the shirt, pure white, soft deep cuffs, soft collar again, form fitting.

The shoes, of course, were men's opera pumps, naturally, with a heel slightly higher than was traditional. Soft black patent.

"Mistress, if i may?" "Speak."

"It is beautiful. It is a men's suit but....not. Softer, feminine, but not so that..."

he struggled for words and I interjected, "It is a suit sewn for a proud submissive boy, My dear. you deserve it. your obedience and fealty do not go unnoticed. And, besides, I thought you might want something nice to wear when, with our friends around us, you formally accept this."

I handed him one last box, smaller than the rest, keeping his gaze for a long moment. Those eyes, reflecting back the love that I felt fiercely, My boy, dear slave.

he opened the wrapping, exposing a black velvet jewel box. Hands shaking, he opened the box to expose an antique white gold finely worked thin torque, with an emerald in the middle and a clasp that made the piece a solid collar.

he touched the torque and brushed away a tear. I let the moments pass in silence. he moved so that he knelt directly in front of Me not looking up, tears flowing now, shoulder shaking. Such a sweet moment, this, the fruition of much time passing, challenges faced, many victories, some losses. And here we were, a question in My heart, an answer in his.

he took a deep, deep breath, wiped his eyes and looked at Me, started to speak, then stopped. Started and stopped. I smiled at him, took his face gently, and pulled him to Me, enveloping him. I felt his strength and his openness, his vulnerability. I reflected briefly on the warp and weave of our lives and thought about how his service made the fabric of My life unspeakably richer.

"Yes, Ma'am," he whispered. Clearing his throat, louder, more steady, "Yes, Mistress, i will humbly and so proudly do this thing you ask, all of it, kneel before you surrounded by our friends and accept this beautiful collar. Yes!"