A Masterful Massage

You were starting to get the hang of talking like you thought a master might talk. Now, you find yourself wondering how to act like a master. Think, what were in those 50 whatever films. You'd never actually been to one of them, nobody in your age group ever seemed to say nice things about them, mostly leaving them to aging housewives. Well, you hadn't asked Rebecca at the time, but maybe she'd have been interested.

You think over the trailers which had been in front of random action movies. Nothing too graphic obviously, but there was that iconic image, of a woman with a blindfold. Your hands pulse, and you think of countless things that could be a blindfold. One seems very obvious in hindsight.

Rebecca is confused as you stand up. She looks at you, a small look of worry on her face, as you go to your dresser. You pull out four neckties, a faux silk. You're not quite sure if you'll use them all, but you don't want to come back here after you've started. You turn to her, and as she sees the neckties, she smiles.

"What do you have planned?" Your answer is snide, the picture of a master in your mind. "Wouldn't you like to know my little pet?" You walk back to your bed, climbing on, laying the ties on the bed. The first soon finds its place, your thickest tie, as you lift it before her.

"There's an old wives tale, that if you lose a sense, the others rush to fill the gap. I was thinking, if I'm going to pet you, maybe I could make it more enjoyable by giving you a blindfold. Really let you feel my hands." Rebecca looks excited. She speaks, stumbling over the words. "Yeah! Uh, yeah, that's sort of one of those things in BDSM. It also gives a feeling of vulnerability to the sub and a feeling of control to the master. I've always wanted to try it!"

You smile, as she lifts her head off of the bed, inviting you to put the tie over her eyes. Maybe there is a better blindfold in the master bedroom, if you could go in there without having an information overload, but it'll do for now, and as your hands place it over her eyes, your hands reach behind her and tie it tight enough that it won't slip, with a knot that won't fall apart. You can see her face blush, as she opens her eyes to the darkness. Although it probably doesn't block all of the light. "So now what, Master?" She smiles, as she lays her head back down. You tease her again. "I've told you already, petting."

You will your hands to touch her, and you find them rubbing along her face, warm with the blood of her arousal. To her cheeks, down the crest of her jaw, only for your thumbs to rub along her lips. They move slowly, teasingly, along the sides of her neck, your thumbs grazing the front as you feel her breathing beneath, growing quicker in anticipation. Your hands dance along the edges of the collar, which glows brightly with her love.

Your hands reach her shoulders, your fingers moving to push deep, as you begin to massage her. Apparently being a masseuse is part of being a master, though these hands are always full of surprises. Your hands work like an iron fist in a velvet glove, firm and soft in all of the right places. You work out the knots, as her body grows softer beneath you, as she relaxes into your touch. She releases a light moan, and you want to press the advantage.

"Focus on my hands. Feel the way your body is sculpted by them. Relax, let them move, let them pleasure you. Give yourself to me." You are still not quite sure if you're saying what she wants to hear, but the way her lips breathlessly whisper yes tells you that it's convincing enough.

Your hands move down from her shoulders to her collarbone. Rubbing, massaging, your warm touch dances along her collarbone. Down her ribs, you see her raise her body to meet you. Her beautiful breasts are next, but part of you slows. She's excited, but you think you want to make this last.

So your hands dance upward again, just before falling on her **** needy breasts. Back up to the collarbone, then the shoulder. Then out, to her arms. "I almost forgot these. I wouldn't want you to think I don't love your arms." She groans in denied anticipation, but you feel her appreciation at knowing when to tease, when to leave pleasure just out of reach.

Your hands teasingly move along her biceps, working them, rubbing along their sinew, the flesh singing beneath your touch. As you reach her elbows, you see that your hands have started to move her arms upwards, until by the time you've reached her forearms, her wrists have nearly met, and her arms are over her head. The slow, meaningful touch moves up, until her hands catch yours, soft delicate, firm and strong. The moment lasts for five seconds, before you pull yours away, before rubbing her palms. Then back to her wrists, when your hands give you an image. One you want to recreate.

Your hands disappear from her body, and she whimpers, as she feels you shift. But then, the touch of silk rubs across her wrists. "You said that there is arousal in vulnerability. In giving up control. I want to tie your wrists, to further enhance that feeling." She doesn't speak, merely nods. "Good, such a good pet."

Your hands pull hers together at the wrists, wrapping the tie around them, tying them together with the soft, flexible, unyielding material. You know that it's not tight enough to cut off circulation, nor loose enough for her to slip free. Then again, it's not tied to anything, so it is merely a sensation, and not a real restraint binding her to the bed.

Happy with the detour, your hands move along her arms, dancing and dipping and touching enough that they enforce the feeling of control of her now bound arms. Down, to the shoulder, to the collarbone, and then finally to her breasts heaving with her warm breath as she grows more and more aroused. Your hands move down, moving along the sides before moving along the bottom of her breast, lifting it. It moves to rub along the entire area, first slowly, teasingly, before deeper, more firmly. They find her nipples, as she moans out. Rubbing, lifting, pushing, pulling, your hands play with her breasts. Your fingers pinch and pull her nipples, before your mouth hovers over it, breathing on it with hot little breaths. She grows more and more aroused, before you blow on a nipple. "No kissing, almost forgot. Petting only. Only my hands."

And with that, your hands move down, to her taut stomach. You feel her shift, wanting to push your hands back to her breasts. But soon, she settles, as your hands rub along the bottom of her ribs, moving to her abdominal muscles. You can feel the energy in them, as her body yearns for the touch to grow less teasing, for you to stop with the games and take her. You know though that anticipation is the point of the game and she can take so much more. Your hands slowly move along her stomach, moving down, down, until you hit the edge of her mound.

The well trimmed hair almost serves as a barrier, as your fingers move along the edge, until you reach the sides of her hips. Quickly down those, you reach her thighs. She whimpers. You respond firmly. "There's so much more to pet. You wouldn't want this to end early would you?" She bites her lip, but ultimately nods.

Though she might soon regret that. Your hands start where they were, rubbing along the sides of her thighs. You move down, rubbing, massaging, until you get to the knee. Then it's the top of her leg, rubbing near the hip joint, moving down again, rubbing, kneading the tense muscle. "Such beautiful legs. They've always been fantastic, it's clear you put so much work into them. I wonder if I could order you to run for me, or if that would still break your pet duties."

I don't leave her time to respond, as my hand moves down, to her inner thigh. Slowly rubbing up, in smooth little circles, slowly moving up, closer, closer, to the tender flesh of her inner thighs. The tiny circles become whirlpools that demand her attention, as I get closer, closer to her heat.

And then... I lift her left leg, moving to massage the bottom of her thigh. The whimpering groan that follows is music to my ears, as I feel her fight the urge to beg, to demand that I take her here and now. So as my firm touch leaves her left leg, when it only lands on her right legs, lifting it, she almost wants to scream. But she is trapped in subspace, wanting to let you control the flow of this, as you tease and deny her, over and over again. As you tell her that it is not quite time for the pleasure she yearns for, that her body demands, that you sadistically hold from her.

Your hands rub along her calves, massaging, almost clinically as you move from her heat. Down to her feet, moving up along the sole, past the curve of her foot to her toes. Her breathing rises again, knowing that it's almost over. That you have to move up again. As you shift up again, she moans in anticipation. Your hands reach her hips...

As you flip her over with your strength. Your hands move up to her shoulders again, as you begin to massage her back. Her overheated body has **** but to take the firm, loving touch, as your hands work out the kinks in her back, working the muscles loose. The shoulder blades, the small of her back, every piece painted with your touch.

You reach the top of her ass, and you can tell that she is ecstatic as your hands rub along the muscles of her well-toned ass, as your hands grope and pull at the muscles, her sensitive ass screaming for every little bit of sensation given. She almost feels like she'll cum from the anticipation alone, but the fire burning hot never quite tips over. It feels like she's been edged, as her body screams for any type of pleasure.

Your hands stop. "I hope you enjoyed your petting." She moans, before she buries her face in the pillow. A few mumbled words. "What was that?" Her face leaves the pillow, to gently squeak out. "Please fuck me."