Mistress Ayn had never thought much of Eugene. He was middle-aged, submissive, pale and soft. At the moment he knelt feebly in a profile of sharp relief to the glorious picture presented by the Mistress. Whereas Ayn was beautiful, radiant, in black heels and stockings, pearls and chemise, Eugene shivered, nude, upon the dungeon floor. Only his continued practice of complete chastity pleased the Domme.
“Lick,” Mistress Ayn commanded. Her voice was at once calm and strong. Eugene did as he was instructed, the tip of his tongue softly caressing the instep of Mistress Ayn’s proffered foot. At once, Eugene felt the tight pull of fingers in his hair. He winced in pain and Mistress Ayn smiled.
“Lick” came the order again. Eugene struggled to maintain his balance there upon his knees. Mistress Ayn had seen fit to make two “arrangements” before the session. One was to simply cuff Eugene’s hands behind his back. The other was to tie a single white ribbon around his cock, marking him.
“Have you been wearing your underwear as we talked about?” Mistress Ayn queried.
Eugene nodded his head gently, “Yes.”
It was a simple but effective method of control. Every time Eugene lowered his trousers or simply felt the silkiness of the panties, he was reminded that his manhood, in fact, belonged to Mistress Ayn.
