My Second visit to Mistress Vigor

[Deleted Member]

This story is inspired from my second Visit to Mistress Vigor, please enjoy.

I stride into the living room, the sharp click of my long black boots echoing against the hardwood floor, the leather whip coiled tightly in my right hand. My eyes narrow as I spot you on your knees, nose buried in one of my discarded high-heeled shoes, inhaling deeply like the pathetic shoe-sniffer you are. Fury boils up inside me, hot and immediate. 'You disgusting little pervert,' I snap, my voice laced with venom. 'I warned you—if I caught you sniffing my shoes again, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. Looks like you're about to learn that lesson the hard way.'

I grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back, forcing you to meet my glare. 'Bend over the coffee table. Hands flat on the surface. Now.' You scramble to obey, your palms pressing against the cool wood as your ass juts out toward me, pants already tenting with shameful arousal. I don't bother with mercy—I uncoil the whip, but first, I grab the sturdy leather paddle from the nearby drawer, its weight solid in my grip. 'Ten on the left cheek first. Count them out loud, and if you miss one, we start over.'

The first strike lands with a resounding crack across your left ass cheek, the sting blooming instantly. 'One!' you gasp. I swing again, harder, the paddle flattening the flesh before it rebounds red. 'Two!' By the fifth, your skin is heating up, welts rising, but I keep the rhythm steady—six, seven, eight—each smack echoing in the room as you count through gritted teeth. Nine and ten leave your left side throbbing, a deep crimson. Without pause, I shift to the right. 'Now the other side. Count.' The paddle bites in again, mirroring the punishment, your voice cracking on 'five!' as the *** builds symmetrically. You reach 'ten' on a whimper, your ass cheeks now matching shades of angry red, marked and tender.

'Good boy—for now,' I murmur, setting the paddle aside. I retrieve the violet wand from my toy bag, flicking it on to the lowest setting, the faint hum filling the air as blue sparks dance at the tip. 'Spread your legs a bit. Let's see how you handle a little electricity.' I trail the wand along your inner left thigh, starting low near your knee, the zap a sharp tingle that makes your muscles twitch. Up I go, slow and deliberate, shocking the sensitive skin inch by inch until I reach the crease where thigh meets ass. You jolt at the spark against your balls, a mix of sting and buzz shooting through you. I circle them lightly, the low voltage more teasing than ***ful, then drag it up the other thigh, repeating the path—thigh to ass top, a quick zap on your balls that has you inhaling sharply. Emboldened, I brush it along the underside of your cock, the sensation electric and arousing, not quite hurting but enough to make your shaft twitch and harden further. 'Not too bad, is it? Just a taste of what's coming.'

I switch off the wand and tuck it away. 'Now, move the coffee table to the center of the room. Hurry up.' You push it into position, the legs scraping softly. 'Lie down on your back, head toward the end so it all fits.' You stretch out, your body aligning with the table's length, ass near the edge for access. I work quickly, buckling thick leather straps across your torso, pinning your chest and waist to the wood, then securing your arms at your sides with more restraints, your hands immobilized by your hips. Your head fits just right, tilted back slightly. Next, I cuff spreader bars between your ankles, the metal cold against your skin, forcing your legs wide. I attach ropes from the bars to the table legs, pulling your knees up and back toward your chest, exposing your ass, cock, and balls completely—*** and open for whatever I desire.

'Perfect view,' I say, admiring my handiwork as your hole clenches in anticipation. I lube my fingers generously and press one against your tight ring, circling before pushing in slow. You tense, but I work it deeper, twisting to loosen you. A second finger joins, scissoring gently, then a third, stretching you open with patient thrusts until your ass yields, slick and ready. 'That's it—relax for me.' Satisfied, I grab the large plug, its bulbous shape gleaming with lube, and ease the tip in. You groan as it stretches you wide, the base finally seating flush against your cheeks, filling you completely.

With the plug in place, I pick up the crop, its thin leather tip flicking experimentally. 'Time to tenderize these.' I start light, cropping the shaft of your cock with quick snaps that make it bob and redden slightly. Then the balls—sharp taps that sting without overwhelming, drawing out your gasps. I squeeze them in my hand, rolling them firmly, tugging downward to heighten the ache. 'Such sensitive balls,' I tease, wrapping soft cord around the base of your cock and balls, tying a neat loop that cinches just enough to bulge them out, making every touch more intense. Another crop to your bound sack, then a stroke along the length—your cock strains against the restraint, leaking pre-cum.

I select the smaller sounding rods, the slender ones to avoid any mishaps, coating the first in lube. 'Breathe,' I instruct, holding your cock steady as I align the tip with your urethra. It slides in smooth on the low setting, the metal cool and invasive as I work it down inch by inch, your hardness aiding the glide. You moan, the fullness strange and arousing. With my other hand, I stroke your shaft in firm pumps, keeping you rock hard, the veins pulsing under my grip. I twist the sound gently, pulling it up halfway before easing it back down, repeating the motion slow—up and down, up and down—building the sensation as your cock throbs around it. I switch to the next size up, slightly thicker but still manageable, inserting it with the same care, my hand never stopping its rhythmic jerking, drawing out your pleasure until you're panting, the dual stimulation making your hips buck uselessly against the straps.

After minutes of this teasing ***, I remove the sound carefully, your cock glistening and desperate. 'Enough of that.' I step back to buckle on the vac-loc strap-on, attaching the large dildo—the one with the realistic pubic hair at the base, thick and veined, easily nine inches. It locks securely to my harness, jutting out aggressively. I twist out the plug from your ass with a pop, your hole gaping slightly before clenching. Lubing the dildo thoroughly, then your entrance, I position myself between your spread legs. 'Legs up,' I command, but since you're tied, I lift them myself, draping your calves over my shoulders, my hands gripping your ankles to hold you steady. You get a full view of my toned body—shoulders flexing, abs tightening—as I lean in, the dildo's head pressing against your lubed hole.

I push forward slow, the girth stretching you wide as the tip breaches, then more, inch by inch, until half is buried. Your eyes lock on mine, watching my muscles work as I thrust deeper, the pubic hair finally brushing your skin when I'm fully seated. 'Feel that? All the way in.' I hold there a moment, letting you adjust, then pull back almost out before sliding in again—slow, deliberate strokes that let you feel every ridge. My grip on your ankles tightens, pulling you onto me as I build the pace gradually, hips rolling smoother, faster, the slap of my thighs against your ass growing rhythmic. Sweat beads on my shoulders, my breaths coming steady as I fuck you deeper, harder, until the room fills with the wet sounds of penetration. When your moans turn frantic, I slow once more, then ramp up to a satisfying thrust—satisfied, I pull out fully, the dildo slick and shining.

Unbuckling the strap-on, I set it aside and return my attention to your ass, still loose and eager. I lube my fingers again—first one, then two, curling to massage your prostate with firm presses that make your cock jerk untouched. 'Right there—feel that spot?' Three fingers now, twisting and probing, then four, stretching you further as I work them in unison, rubbing the gland until you're leaking steadily. 'You're opening up so well. Time for more.' With copious lube dripping everywhere, I tuck my thumb in and push—slow, so slow—my hand forming a cone as it breaches your rim. You gasp at the intense stretch, but I pause, letting you breathe, inching forward until my knuckles slip past, my whole fist inside your ass, warm and clenching around my wrist.

'Oh, fuck, you're taking my entire hand,' I say, voice husky with control. 'I can feel your walls pulsing around me, so tight and hot. Your prostate is right here—swollen under my fingers.' I rotate my hand gently, exploring the velvety depths, pressing against that sensitive bulge to make you writhe. 'Everything's slick with lube, sliding easy now.' Satisfied, I start to withdraw—slowly, my fist dragging out until just the fingertips remain—then push back in, the motion deliberate. I build a rhythm, pumping my hand fully in and out, each plunge deeper, the suction audible as your ass grips me. In, out, in, out—faster but still controlled, my arm flexing with every thrust, your body straining against the bonds.

Now for the finale. I grab the grease—thick lube—and slather it over your cock and balls, my hand gliding smooth as I wrap around your shaft. Firm strokes from base to tip, twisting at the head, while my other hand cups your balls, squeezing gently then pulling down hard, rolling them to amp up your arousal. Your cock swells in my grip, rock hard and throbbing as I pump steadily, the grease making obscene slick sounds. I edge you mercilessly—bringing you to the brink with rapid jerks, your balls tightening, then slowing to feather-light touches just as you teeter. Again and again, I repeat: fast and tight until you're humping the air, then stop, letting you cool only to start over. 'Beg for it,' I demand, my hand hovering. You squirm against the straps, hips bucking wildly, words tumbling out in desperate pleas—'Please, let me cum, I can't take it'—your voice breaking as the edging pushes you to the edge of sanity, body trembling, utterly mine.

 

[sc****]

Wow

[Bi****]

Holly shit a little descriptive.. damn she should write a novel of some sorts straight up. No trouble ***ting a picture there. What you assay her name was again.. lol jk

[Slavematthew]

Amazing! Cock cage twitching all the way!