The List 17: Its Neck is For Wearing a Collar With a Leash Attached

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Previously: She nodded, and took the plate and glass from him. “Like I said, you probably just stood up too quickly. Luckily, the next item on your list is pretty low impact. I’ll put these away, you take a breather, and then I’ll get your collar and the leash.”

He nodded and smiled at her, glad they weren’t stopping.

She came back into the room with a pair of scissors and the light string they kept in the kitchen, the white cotton kind that always unraveled at the end. She sat down in the chair, and motioned him over. “Scoot over, and face away from me.”

He slid across the floor and spun around, facing away from her. She made several loose loops around his neck with the string, then cut it with the scissors, and tied the ends together. She watched his fingers start to move, to fidget as he started to wonder what was going on.

“I know, you’re confused.” She patted his head, and pulled about six feet of string off the roll, cutting it again with the scissors. One end went around the loop of string already around his neck, and she walked over to the dresser with the other end. She wrapped it around the leg, and tied it with a simple knot. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain.”

She dropped the string and scissors on the dresser, then went over to the closet and pulled out a pair of socks and boots. “Leashes are to teach restraint, so I’m going to teach you to restrain yourself.” She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the socks, then slid the boots over them and started cinching down the laces. “Your job is to not break the leash. Pretty sure you could, so you’re going to have to be careful.”

She knotted the boot laces, and then slid off the bed to sit on the floor with her legs stretched in front of her. “Whatever you can reach, you can lick.”

He looked at her boots, and then over his shoulder at the string running to the dresser. He slowly moved towards her, inching along as the slack came out of the string. As the string tightened he lowered his stomach to the floor and slid along, stopping when he felt it pull tight. Her boots were still a good foot away, and the string was pulled tight.

She raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “I wasn’t going to be that much a bitch.” She inched herself closer, watching the look of anticipation on his face, slowly bringing her boots closer until he took a deep breath and stuck his tongue out as far as it would reach. She dragged the toe of one boot along his tongue, slowly, sliding the leather across the pink flesh until the black gleamed.

She pulled that leg back, and he stuck his tongue back in his mouth to moisten it, then pushed it past his lips again as her other boot snaked forward. She dangled it just out of his reach for long seconds, then started to rub it across his tongue, back and forth in short strokes.

She sighed and leaned back, letting him reach more of the leather, to lick along the top and sides. He moved his head and ran his tongue eagerly along the leather, growling in frustration when the string pulled taught and wouldn’t let him reach any further. He forced himself not to jerk against it, not to break it and grab her boot with both hands and work his tongue over every square inch.

She switched feet, then dragged her boot back and forth, slowly letting him lick more than less, watching his tensed muscles as he fought to keep himself in place. She pointed her toes at the ceiling, only letting him touch the soles of the boot with the very tip of his tongue, watching him carefully move his head up and down, straining to get as close as possible to her without breaking the string.

She sighed and laid down on her back, half closing her eyes. “You do know how to make a gal feel appreciated, I’ll give you that.” She started to wriggle herself closer to him, her legs spread to either side of his body. She jerked when she felt his lips on her leg, gently kissing her skin. She relaxed and purred, the sensation of his lips moving up her body making it hard to move slowly.

Finally, his lips reached her inner thighs, and she forced herself to wait as he kissed and one leg then the other, her cunt just beyond his reach. He gently bit one thigh and she jumped, then laughed, and deliberately paused… then slowly slid a little closer.

Her ass clenched and her hips rolled as his tongue worked its way past her lips to her clit, and started to circle it. Electric jolts of pleasure spiked through her body as he flicked his tongue against her clit, pushed the very tip of his tongue against it, ran his tongue around and across it, pushing her towards an orgasm.

She slid her hips away, teasing both of them, letting the orgasm slip away, forcing his lips and his tongue back down her thighs, away from her cunt. He whimpered, then growled in frustration, kissing her thighs and working his tongue in small circles on her skin, trying to convince her to come closer.

She let him seduce her, let his tongue draw patterns on her skin until she found one she liked and slid her cunt towards him. Her hips rose up off the floor, pushing her clit against his lips as he ran his tongue up her slit again.

Her orgasm built again, and again she slid her hips away. His lips attacked her thigh as her cunt slid away, pulling her skin towards him, trying to drag her closer. She made herself wait, then slid her body towards him as slowly as she could.

The first faint flicks of his tongue against her skin made her moan. The tip of his tongue could barely reach her, and the sight of the string pulled tight made her moan again. She let him tantalize her with the tip of his tongue, then slid down a little further, let more of his tongue run across her clit, let him apply more pressure to her trembling flesh.

Her hips slid further down, and she let his mouth cover her cunt, burying his face in the space between her legs. Her thighs trembled and her hips rose off the ground again as he worked his tongue frantically, desperate to get her off before she moved away again. She grabbed his head with both hands, smashing his face against her body as the orgasm built and exploded inside of her.

He felt her legs wrap around his head, her thighs clench, and heard the sounds of her coming somewhere in front of him. He stopped, then kissed gently, trying to time his kisses with her moans and gasps. “Oh, okay.” She slid her hips away carefully, the nerve endings suddenly too sensitive to touch, and pushed herself to a sitting position.

She fanned herself with one hand, and gasped until her breathing slowed down. “Good boy.” She patted his head, and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them the string was still pulled tight but not broken, and he was smiling at her.

She smiled back, and licked her lips. “So, your throat was for swallowing piss, yes?”

Preview: It’s throat is for swallowing piss. SPOILER ALERT: This one will probably involve pee, probably won’t involve asparagus.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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The List 4: Knees are for Kneeling

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From Part 3:

He stopped and carefully lowered his body to the floor, laying on his side, his knees and hands still raw and burning from where the rice had gouged its way into his flesh. He looked across the room at her and smiled, until…

“Besides, next up is kneeling, and you’re going to need the breather.”

She flopped over on the bed, tired and warm and satiated. Momentarily. She played back over the events in her head as her breath slowed, and thought about what was going to happen next. Her skin started to tingle, and she rolled over to look at him and smiled. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

His head raised slightly and he grinned back at her. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

She hopped off the bed, her dress fluttering down around her legs, picked up the trash can by the bed and walked over to him. “Smart-ass. I appreciate the concern, but I think I’ll manage. Give me your hand.” She took his hand and started working the tape loose. The sharp hiss of adhesive coming off skin matched his sudden inhalation. She pulled it off slowly, letting him feel every hair that was ripped off along with the tape, enjoying the looks playing over his face.

She slipped the glove off, dumping the rice into the wastebasket and setting it aside. Her fingers slid across the dimpled flesh on his palms, plucking out bits of rice and dropping them in the wastebasket. His fingers twitched and she imagined the pain from fresh blood bringing oxygen to the damaged cells, and felt the damp warmth of his skin. She ran her fingers along his palm, then let go of his hand. “Other hand, please.”

The tape ripped off again, more hair and skin latched onto adhesive and deposited in the waste basket. The rustling sound of uncooked rice falling out and hitting the plastic trash bag. She picked out the few grains that remained in his palm, and felt herself getting hungrier. She paused for a second, considering. “Okay, down on your stomach. Let’s go those kneepads off. As much as I enjoy them, I’m going to need you on your knees for awhile, and uncooked rice is a little bit much.”

He shifted over so he was laying on his stomach, and felt the velcro bands coming undone. She lifted one leg out of the plastic cup, and brusquely ran her palm along his knee, knocking off the hard grains. They fell into the kneepad, and when she was done they were dumped in the trash, the kneepad carelessly tossed aside.

Her hunger was growing, and she didn’t feel like waiting anymore. She picked his other leg up herself, ripped the fastener in two, and scoured his knee with her hand. The rice went in the trash can, the kneepad bounced across the floor. She stood up, letting his leg fall to the floor with a clunk. “On your knees now, that’s what they’re for, after all.”

He pushed himself up and shuffled around to face her, then rose up on his knees. The air felt cool, and the carpet was a pleasant sensation after the gouging sensation of the rice. Her fist wound itself into his hair and clenched, and he followed awkwardly as she dragged him along and positioned him facing the bed, several feet away. “Stay.”

She growled the word, while she pulled her dress up over her head and off, then folded it and set it aside. She pulled a book off the shelf, something thick and bulky, and set it carefully on top of his head. “Don’t let that fall off. If I have to stop and put it back on, I’m going to be pissed.”

He forced his back a little straighter, and tried to feel the weight of the book on his head, anticipate which way it might shift and fall. She hopped back on the bed, and grabbed a pillow. She shoved the pillow under her head so she could look at his eyes, and sighed. The vibrator hummed on and she started gently working it up and down her slit.

He started to lean forward and felt the book begin to shift. He swallowed hard and slowly moved back, keeping it in place on his head. She licked her lips and pushed the vibrator against her clit a little harder. “Ah, you remembered. If you can get over here without the book falling off before I come, I’ll let you finish me off with your tongue. If not, too bad.”

She teased her clit with the vibrator, running it in tight circles over the flesh, pushing against the nerve endings. He swallowed hard, and began inching forward, his knees still aching. She teased herself as he tested how fast he could go, short, careful movements that placed his knees a little closer to her each time. She watched his progress and moaned, teasing him, driving him on, one eye on his face the other on the book perched on his head.

He shuffled forward, moving faster, desperate to get there before she came. He slid one knee forward, then the other, sliding them across the carpet, ignoring the irritation of the already tender and bruised skin, one knee, then the other–thud. The book hit the floor and her eyes narrowed. She stood up while he trembled, then grabbed him by the hair and dragged him backwards to his starting point.

The book slapped down on top of his head and he winced, then flinched as she slapped his face. One cheek, then the other, back and forth until the book tumbled off again. “I told you to keep the book on your head.” She slapped him, hard. “What?” Slap! “Part?” Slap! “Of?” Slap! “That?” Slap! “Did you not?” Slap slap slap! “Understand?” A final slap left his ears ringing, and he pleaded with his eyes. “Sorry ma’am, I was trying.”

She slapped him one more time, then turned and walked back towards the bed. “Get it right.” She picked the vibrator back up, dragged herself onto the bed, and rubbed her palm on her cunt. The heat from his face melted into her body, and she ground her palm down into her labia, stimulating the sensitive flesh. He started shuffling forward again, and she shifted her hips and spread her legs a little further.

The vibrator pushed against her again, and he started his awkward, painful, shuffling march across the floor, his back locked straight, the book pushing down on his head. His eyes locked on the lewd display in front of him, he carefully moved one knee then the other, ignoring everything but the sight of her and the feel of the book on top of his head.

She ratcheted up the pressure and the pleasure, and he ground his teeth and forced himself to move at the careful pace that kept the book on top of his head. One knee moved in front of the other, inching across the carpet as she pushed herself closer to orgasm. She was panting and breathing hard, short gasps that made her chest heave, as he finally got to the bed, and kissed her thigh.

She shoved the vibrator in his mouth, letting him taste her, and threw the book aside with the other. “Oh god, I thought you’d never get here. Get your mouth on my cunt or I swear to God I’ll kill you.” His lips eagerly locked onto her pussy, the short, stiff hairs brushing against his lips as his tongue worked its way over her clit, pushing against it, rolling back and forth across it, tracing circles around it over and over.”

Her back arched and the blood pounded in her head as she wrapped her thighs around his head, smashing his face tight against her, holding him there. She could feel his tongue and his breath against her cunt, and her hips rolled, jerking his face along until she erupted, coming on his tongue, her thighs trembling and her legs jerking.

“Ugggggggggggggg.” An animal sound came from somewhere deep inside her, and slowly, reluctantly, opened her legs and slid away from his tongue, suddenly sensitive but wanting to hold into the sensation as long as possible. “Come here.” She motioned him up onto the bed, and he slid onto it until he was lying beside her. She pulled him hard against her and kissed him. “Good boy.” She stroked his hair, and finally opened her eyes. “Good boy. I can’t wait to hobble you.”

Preview: Part 5, Ankles are for being hobbled! Aren’t they?

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.