Standing outside, nude and bound, the chill in the air seemed to vanish as he heard her boots crackling through the snow.
The footsteps stopped in front of him. He kept his eyes downcast, focusing on her tall, black boots. When she showed him the cage, he knew he’d get no quarter tonight.
He squirmed as the cold metal of the cage touched his cock, but it did nothing to lessen his erection. He sighed hearing the lock click.
“Good boy,” she purred at him and ran a gloved finger down his belly. “You’re not to cold are you?” She asked, tapping the bars of the cage, watching his cock swell within it.
He bit his lip and shook his head. “No, Mistress.” The soft leather of her gloves made him shiver. She dropped her hands, placing them back into the pockets of her coat. He wondered what she wore underneath it.
She walked slowly around him, pausing to brush her fingers over his flesh. All of her actions heightened his desire. He could feel her pause behind him, and her silent gaze made his skin prickle and his cock strained against the cage, making him ache. He knew what she wanted him to do.
He waited until she walked back around, her boots still crunching the snow. He kept his eyes trained on those boots. The black leather length of them gripping the curve of her calves. The shiny leather cupped her knees and disappeared beneath her coat.
“Please, Mistress” he whispered.
Her throaty laugh carried over the cold air. “Please? Please what, minx?” Her fingers teased his nipples, rolling them between her fingers.
She laughed again, her fingers once again tapping on the bars of his cage. “You surprise me,” she replied, stepping back from him. She unbuttoned her coat slowly, deliberately delaying.
He watched as each button revealed more. The first gave him a glimpse of her bare skin, with its rich tawny glow. The gap in the coat widened shadowing the already deep black cat suit.
He let out a delighted groan seeing the suit. He imagined what the leather would feel like. How it would be smooth and warmed by her skin. How it would hide nothing of her, but would still be a barrier.
She dropped her coat to the ground and watched the hunger, the worship cross his face. She released his cock from its cage, watching it spring free and bounce toward his belly. He whispered quietly. She him from his bounds, and she slowly massages his wrists, she can feel the chill of his skin even though her gloves.
He drops to his knees, pressing his face against her belly. She strokes his hair, allowing him his loss of obedience. She’d punish him once they were out of the cold. “Come,” she snapped her fingers, “and carry my coat.”
He followed behind her, wearing his own small smile anticipating his punishment.
She pulled away from him. “Are you ready for your punishment?” She smiled, her lip painted the deep red loved.
He gave a slow nod, transfixed by her painted mouth and her leather catsuit. “Yes, Mistress.”
She smile and blindfolded him.
He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, feeling the loss of his sight keenly. He hadn’t expected she’d take this from him. Seeing her in the leather was so much a part of his pleasure that losing it left him aching. This was his punishment. Her leather clad fingers were smooth and warm against his chest. He whimpered as she tugged on his nipples.
He heard the zipper on her catsuit. He wondered if she was zipping it up or down. He imagined her tawny skin revealed, not the inches but the smooth expanse from her collarbones to navel. He wondered if her breasts were bared, or was it only her cleavage revealed.
Her soft moan filled the room. “I see why you like leather on your nipples,” she purred out of the darkness. “It’s almost like someone else touching me.”
He bit his lip, understanding of the scope of his punishment. His cock twitched in the cage. He heard the sharp rasp of the zipper again, followed by her moans.
“Oh the leather does make a difference,” she whispered. “Open your mouth,” she ordered.
He felt her fingers on his lips, and then sucked her gloves fingers. Her musk paired with the leather, and he wanted more. She slipped her fingers out of his mouth.
“I’m touching myself” she whispered in his ear, and he could feel the heat of her body on his skin. He leaned forward just a fraction of an inch, wanting to touch her so desperately. His lips brush her skin before she pulled away. “Still the bad boy,” she tsked at him. “That’s too bad because I wanted you to watch me come.”
He stumbled over his tongue, trying to find the words to apologize, to beg, to behave. He managed a strangled “Please,” and a whispered “forgive me.” His tears caught in the blindfold, sparing him from crying in front of her.
He felt her wet finger slide down his chest to tap against his cage. “Bad boy,” she moaned.
He could hear her wetness. And as he took a shuddering breath, he could smell her sweet musk. He gripped the arms of the chair as if they were a life line. Somewhere in the darkness, he listened to her breathing quickened and her low moans. The scent of her was nearly overwhelming him. He knew the soft, shuddering gasp she gave when she orgasmed, but she sounded louder. Every sound she made seemed louder.
His rough breathing filled the space between them, and it almost masked the whisper of the zipper on her suit. The whisper of leather over leather as she straightened her catsuit.
He jumped a little when he felt her hands on the cage. He whimpered as his cock burst free. The stinging rush of blood to fill his cock made him cry out.
“Look at the lovely hard on,” she said running her gloved finger down the underside of his cock.
He forced himself to stay still in the chair, to remain silent. He wasn’t going to again. When her warm leather fingers wrapped around his cock, he groaned and felt the ache of impending orgasm. No matter how smooth the leather, it tugged just slightly over his skin as she pumped her hand slowly up them down. He bit his lip as his cock twitched and a low moan escaped as he came.
“My excited, Minx,” she whispered and he could hear her smile. He felt her untie the blindfold and he blinked in the light.
As his eyes focused, he saw her. Her catsuit zipped to her throat and her lipstick still flawless. His eyes locked on to her gloved hands, one covered with his glinting seman. She followed his gaze and smiled.
“And now you’ve dirtied my gloves,” she smiled softly at him. “Such a naughty boy.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly.
Minx shook out the dress. It was heavy, with a full skirt and fitted bust. Something that Lucille Ball would have worn in I Love Lucy. Slipping into the dress was like slipping into another time, which was exactly what Johnnie wanted. Tonight, they were exploring Her 1950s household fantasy.
Minx had already shaved his legs, and loved the smooth feeling of his skin. When he slipped the silk stockings over his legs, he was stunned at how sensitive his skin was. He wanted to stroke his legs, but knew that he still had a lot to do.
After hooking the stockings his pulled on the lace panties, and looked at his reflection. His cock stirred in its lacy confines. He wanted to reach into his own panties and stroke his cock, but Johnnie had ordered him not to. With one last long look, Minx struggled into the dress, trying to avoid messing up his hair or makeup.
The zipper was a struggle, but as it closed inch by inch, the pressure around his torso, the tightness of the dress’s bodice acted almost like a corset. Minx shivered at the feeling. The feeling was more binding than the ropes and chains they usually used.
He slipped his feet into slippers, planning on putting on the heels she’d selected just before she got home. As Minx cooked and prepared a martini for his Mistress, the rustle of his skirt and the slip of his stockings kept distracting him.
Once the food was plated and the drinks poured, he returned to the bedroom. He wanted to; no he had to look at himself.
And that’s how Mistress found him, with his skirt pulled up and spilling over one arm so he could admire the lace of his panties and the tops of his stockings. He rubbed his cock through the panties, loving the way it pressed against the fabric and the small growing wet spot at the tip.
“Aren’t you a different dirty little wife” Mistress’s voice broke through his fascination.
Minx dropped his skirt, smoothing it back down. “Mistress you’re home already.” Even he heard the edge of fear in his voice. Once again, he was in trouble. He turned to face her, and his jaw dropped.
Her three piece suit was impeccable, and her hair was pulled tightly back. But it was the look in her eyes that made him shiver. She was both pleased and angry.
“Did you spend all afternoon looking at yourself?”
Minx shook his head. “No Mistress, everything is ready for dinner just like you ordered.” His cock twitched.
She sat on the bed, and crooked a dinner at him. He stepped toward her. “You are awfully pretty all dressed up” she said. “Let’s see those panties you were so interested in.”
Minx felt himself blushing, but he dutifully lifted his skirt. He knew his erection was outlined through the panties. Her expressionless scrutiny made it even harder to stand still.
“Very pretty,” she said, running a sharp filed fingernail over his cock, “but you’ve still been a bad wife.”
Minx found himself nodding.
She ordered him to bend over the bed and to hold his skirt up. The position and holding his clothing made his anticipation grow and his frustrations start to peak. Even expecting it, he squeaked as the flat of her hand connected. His skin heated and tingled as her hand landed again and again. His cock ached, pressed tight in the lace panties. His Mistress was skilled at spanking, her hand always landing in a new spot, never letting him acclimate to the feeling. He bit his lip, as his legs began to shake.
Finally it stopped, and she sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around his torso. He panted and rested his head in her lap, until his breathing returned to normal. Her hands stroked his hair, careful not to further destroy the curls he’d spent so long getting into his hair.
“Good Minx,” she said. “Now, you are going to clean yourself up, and we will try this again.”
He nodded and wiped his eyes, too late remembering the makeup.
She smiled ruefully at him, and grabbed a tissue to wipe away the mascara tears. “This time, be waiting with my martini, and we will have a nice dinner.” She blotted at his eyes more, “and this time wear your heels.”
Minx nodded, knowing that after his spanking sitting on the hard dining room chairs would be another delicious torture. He tried not to smile.