Stephanie had never felt so… helpless. It seemed impossible, almost surreal–she should be the one with all the power in this situation, and yet she felt like at any moment her mind was simply going to collapse into sheer, submissive bliss and leave her a whimpering mess of obedient pleasure. She had lost all control, and she didn’t know how to get it back.
The slave hadn’t noticed. She didn’t know if he was capable of noticing anything anymore; his head was buried between her legs, bobbing up and down on her cock like it was made of candy. His eyes were tightly closed, and judging by his moans of mindless bliss, he wasn’t paying attention to much of anything that wasn’t Stephanie’s hard shaft. Whatever they’d done to him, it made him an absolutely devoted lover.
But that was part of the problem. Stephanie couldn’t bring herself to make him stop, not when his tongue was swirling so deliciously around her most sensitive erogenous zones and his mouth was finding so many ways to tease her into pleasure and his lips felt so fucking g-g-good ggodd goodddd… Her fingers brushed against his back, the closest she’d managed to get in almost an hour to trying to get his attention, but then another surge of pleasure hit and the touch turned into a lazy caress that only spurred him on to new heights of devotion.
She noticed that he was careful never to let her come. But she was too deep in her reverie of bliss to command him anymore.
His tongue flicked out again, caressing the sensitive flesh just at the tip of her cock, and Stephanie let out a small, aching whimper of need. She hoped nobody heard it. She knew her brain was teetering on a knife’s edge right now, that the only thing preventing her from slipping away into pure, begging, pleading, drooling, mindless, submissive lust was the abject helplessness of the man sucking her off. He couldn’t accept her surrender, he was too lost to obedience himself. He was one of the club’s devoted servants, allowed no clothing save a dog collar and no thoughts save his programming. He wouldn’t command her, even if his mouth emptied enough to speak.
(Stephanie involuntarily imagined the click of a collar around her neck. Her hips jerked helplessly in arousal.)
But if anyone else saw… Stephanie had no illusions about the club she attended. They were decadent, joyously hedonistic, rapturously devoted to exploring all the avenues pleasure could take–but they were also ruthless. If they found someone who took their bliss in submission, they wouldn’t hesitate to lead them all the way down that path right to the end. And Stephanie was looking at that end right in front of her. She’d never thought she was in any danger, she’d always assumed she would be the one in control, but it had all slipped away from her somehow and all she wanted was to sink deeper into arousal and let her thoughts melt into delicious passivity. She was horny and helpless and mindless and dripping with lust, and she couldn’t find a way back from it.
But it was still okay. As long as nobody saw, it would be okay. As long as nobody noticed the look of silent pleading on her face, or the tiny choked gasps that told the world that she had long ago forgotten how to command even the most mindless and submissive of slaves, it would be okay. As long as no one came over to speak to her, their very presence breaking the dam inside her mind and letting all the helpless, aching need out in a torrent of whimpering and begging and pleading to be allowed to come (come come COME oh god…) it would be okay. As long as she had a chance to regain control of her desires, it would be–
“Excuse me?” The woman speaking to her was barely five feet tall, with pixie-cut blonde hair and dimples on her rosy cheeks. It didn’t matter. Stephanie could feel her thoughts draining into a well of mindless, desperate lust. “You seem a little… vulnerable. Can I help?” Her voice was tender and solicitous, but her smile told Stephanie that she knew exactly what was going on. Maybe she even orchestrated it. There was nothing so sweet as walking into the club with a former Mistress on a leash.
“Just… tell me what you need,” the woman said, tender cruelty in every syllable. Helplessly, Stephanie opened her mouth. They both knew what she was going to say.