Strip

He stood before her, his teeth grating his lips while he contemplated his manoeuvre. Seldom he approached the forbidden fruits of his sexuality. Those sentiments, despite how powerful they drove his sensual desires, were still unfamiliar terrains he dared not approach. Men should strive for control in mind, body, and desire. A lack of discipline would be a slippery slope towards his disgrace. He worked hard building himself, taking measures to avoid his current situation. But here he was, using a magazine to cover his aching boner while his virtual boss gave expectant gaze. While more than he could bear, Martina granted him purchase for his debauchery, a little taste of what he denied himself for so long and with no consequence.

He dropped the magazine, staring down at his clothed, strained erection edging near freedom. Not meeting Martina's eyes; Alasdair pulled down his briefs, removing his left, then his right, legs from the openings, before rising upwards, holding the undergarment before his groin at the waistband. His cock twitched against his abdomen and palms, knowing he only delayed the inevitable. Alasdair's face tightened upon dropping his black briefs unto the ground, his hardened shaft at long last unconfined by cloth and fear. He jerked his head high to catch sight of Martina examining his manhood with pressed lips. He dared not speak, his agitated stomach the only sound resounding within the silent room.

After what seemed like an eternity, she uncrossed her legs and relaxed both arms at her side. A click from her phone confirmed she stopped recording.

"Come here, Mr Myers," she whispered.

His attention narrowed as he moseyed towards her. Heat and trembles travelled along his nerves while his shallow breathing worsened. If he thought his heart raced before, it did not compare to the hammer pounding away at his chest now. His balance wavered with each step he took. Left foot, Right foot, he kept telling himself, keeping focus on the travel rather than what awaited him at his destination.

When he stood before her, she did not look him in his face, only retaining her attention on his pulsing cock. Her unmoved posture and steady stares only worsened Alasdair's anxiety. He wondered what judgements ran through her head. Why was she not speaking? Was something wrong? Though further lines of thought arose, he had little time considering them. All cogent synapses bolted from his mind, his capacity for reasoning draining away once Martina took his hard-on into her soft delicate hands. He sharply inhaled, his apprehension tarry atop holding his breath.

Martina's fingers glided his length unrestrained, apprising the smooth shaft and the firm ridges beneath, pulsing with abandon. His cock, while stiff, had a slight spongy impression when stroking, countering each prod about his rod with sturdy pressure. While not burning hot, his erection gave off balmy warmth that made her tense like one to a stove. She kept her examination light, now gliding her other hand towards his balls—quite large, even for a 6-foot 5-inch man. His testicles were both stocked and strong, despite retracting towards the base of his prick. Her eyes widened as she cuddled the hefty, round eggs through the soft hairs of his cool sac. She played along the ridged skin, ceasing once Alasdair spluttered. His erection twitched many times against her strategic silky palms; some pre-cum splashing onto her fingers. He exhaled upon she unloosening her loose grip on his manhood.

She looked upwards, at last exchanging glances and quelling his disquietude. But her next word issued away those sentiments.

"Cute."

So bare. No-nonsense. Just matter-of-fact. But that did not stop the rush that both prickled across his face and down his neck, while making him buoyant and calm. A euphoric calm that, when all is said and done, took hold once you pitched off on a roller coaster. He knew what her comment meant. All men did. But he did not feel anger. No. He felt embarrassment. Shame. Humiliation. And they all made him horny. His cock twitched, flicking more pre-cum onto his superior. The strength in his legs faded, causing him to wobble, but Martina gripped them; supported him.

"Nervous?" she questioned.

"No," he answered; too harsh. Too quick. She nodded, massaging his burly quads. He gritted his teeth, attempting to ignore the tingles cascading up his thighs, though it proved no value since his erection jerked twice in response.

"Excited then? Excited for me to play with your small cock?"

He twitched again in both his masculine body and aching manhood before turning away. Martina placed her phone on a modest counter before standing. She wiped Alasdair's pre-ejaculate on his broad chest before cupping his cheeks. His face pained and flushed upon capturing his gaze. Cute. Just like his willy.

"You're the top dog," she whispered in his ears. “Tonight's about you."

She kissed at his collar, her delicate presses like fluttering feathers sweeping away his body's tightness. Alasdair’s rapid breathing eased, his embarrassment flowing back to make way for his ever-growing libido. She encircled her arms around his neck, pulling herself into him before capturing his lips with fierce passion that caught him unaware. He further warmed from her caress while embracing her cinnamon scent. Her fingers sailed down his broad back, sending gratifying quavers throughout him. Instinctively, he tugged her, his erection palming at her abdomen as he nestled her aphrodisiac aroma and touch. She turned the top dog, both falling onto the mattress as they continued locking each other's mouths.

After several seconds, Martina pulled away, rising upwards to trace Alasdair's shaft between her ass cheeks. He groaned, taking hold of her hips, but she knocked his hands aside with her flogger. A subtle peak manifested at the corner of her lips making his cock jump. He leaked even more while she continued bringing him off with her sturdy mound. After many deep groans and moans from the top dog, Martina spoke.

“Do you enjoy me stroking your hard willy between my ass," she questioned, her tone low and soothing.

Alasdair nodded, rapidly taking in air.

"Tell me little Alis. How do you feel about me? Am I still a bitch?"

“Yes…," his voice unpleasant.

"But you like me handling your small willy, don't you?"

"Yes…"

Her pace increased, his ever-leaking erection tossing away at her rear.

"Why you never fancied me, little Alis? Is it because I'm a bitch? Or because your willy is too small?"

He remained silent, only his harsh puffing pervading the room. Martina flicked her flogger against his abdomen, making him utter an exclamation. He bit his lips.

"I asked a question. I expect an answer."

"It's…It's…"

Another flick. Oof!

"It's because I'm small! Too small!"

"What’s too small Alis?"

"My…my dick."

Another tap. Argh!!!

"My willy! My willy is too small! Fuckin' bitch!"

She slapped his stomach, the hitting of his skin cracking like the striking of solid rock. His nerves twinge.

"Mind your manners boy."

Each intake of air grew more energised than the last as he neared the point of no return with unabated speed. The heavy mutters became primal, his want becoming a need to fuck the teasing woman on him. His erection jolted more, his contracting scrotum readying to climax on Martina. Alasdair gripped both sides of the mattress, following her grind against his appendage and the mischievous smile on her lips. He was about to blow his load. It surprised him he even lasted this long, barely lasting a minute when watching porn.

"I'm…I'm going to…AHH!"

Martina seized his package with her hands. He trembled, the numbness striking through his body. Alasdair laid still, trying to manage his inhalation and wilting willy. She stood up from the bed, giving him access to his diminutive toy. Her smug smile vanished. She was all business. Play time's over.

"Remember, you can only cum when I tell you. I'm your dominatrix after all."

She sat at his edge, exchanging looks between him and his softening penis.

"You beckoned me here because you thrived for an adventure. Because you wanted to be emasculated. Should I lock your cute willy in a cage; arouse you so much that you beg for release? No. Maybe I should spank those delicate ass cheeks of yours. They look firm and supple like the rest of your body. Perhaps, now that I think about it, I should make you my bitch. You know? Reverse the roles. I could give you the experience of an actual fuck. Would you like that Alis? Your willy says yes."

Alasdair red-faced, his erection returning harder than before, though his balls ached more so from the second wind. His focus scattered everywhere in his attempts to quell his oscillating anxiety. He was more aroused than he ever experienced since his teenage years. Sure, to his vexation, he sprung the occasional stiff one at a moment's notice, but this, right here, was difficult to envisage. Excitement at his masculine dismantling? Maybe he had gone too far. Sure, some erotic humiliation interested him, but this was not him. Was it?

He saw the refined amusement on Martina's face. The one that told him no matter what he did, he was always beneath her. No! This was NOT him. His resolve returned full ****, encouraging him to use what little strength he had to access the virtual template. He filtered through the options, searching to end the simulation.

Time to log out, he told himself…

But…something was wrong.

He tried shifting the selections. Clicking here. Highlighting there. But they moved about on their own accord, not giving him the freedom he sought. In mere seconds, the menu clicked off on many variables, before vanishing on its own.

Martina Washington seated herself at his side, looking at him with soft, half-closed eyes. All words escaped him upon finding her wardrobe changed in its entirety.

The light reflected off the black, vinyl texture of her open-strapped bustier that tied upwards her neck to a collar closure. She now wore a bandage style high waist skirt of the same colour, with garter straps linked to her crotchless, nylon thigh-long stockings. He swallowed when she lowered herself towards him, her open thighs revealing translucent bikini panties that showed her pussy dripping wet with excitement.

"That's better," she said, cupping his cheeks. "I came off a bit too strong. We can take this slow."

Her hands traced down his hardened body, her lips nearing his ears.

“I don't want this…," he responded, yet lacking the conviction he held earlier. He already exposed his insecurity to Martina, even though now he regretted it, but he could not allow his arousal and growing lust control. He must be rational. Abolishing his authority would further complicate his psyche. Irritation raided him, giving him this urge to scratch at his arms and legs.

"No need to lie. I understand your needs."

He took in another sharp breath as she stroked his erection.

"Take this time to appreciate me, Alis. Tell me what you wish."