The Puppet

The Puppet

Copyright gail.sher (c)

The warmth from the fire coupled with the peaty pure malt whisky was having a soporific effect on him. He felt mesmerized by the flames dancing across the top of the burning log in the hearth, and Lady J’s soothing words seemed to be dropping him deeper and deeper into a warm comfortable and very private space. Vivalid’s Four Seasons played harmoniously in the background, creating an erotic ambiance. It was so cozy sitting on the couch next to her, her delicate fingers massaging that spot on the back of his hand, painted nails tracing a pattern of red against white.

“Deeper down, down deeper”, she hushed. “Tonight you are going to perform for me and excite me. You are going to be my orchestra and puppet dancer, and I am going to be your conductor, musician and audience. You are going to long to please me, excite and thrill me, show off your talents”

“To do that, we will need you to change into your performer’s attire – no clothes will be best! And what dancer doesn’t have their finger and toe nails painted – a bright red will do best I think! Raise your arms, pet and let’s tie them to those velvet ropes hanging from the rafters. Up on your toes, for tonight you will swing like a puppet. But first a warm up”

The leather strap swung lazily across his buttocks, leaving a broad red stripe. He shifted on his toes uncomfortably, as stroke after stroke burnished his glowing behind. Glowing red in the firelight, warm from the hearth and fiery from the strokes, he began to hum in pain. It was the first kiss of the cane that made him kick his legs up. Swinging wildly as Lady J picked up the rhythm and began to stripe the glowing flesh. Candy stripe welts sprung up, as her conductor’s rod beat the rhythm across his flesh. As he spun wildly on his strings, he glimpsed her flushed face. Her hands held the rod delicately in her fingers, her red nails picked out in a startling red white pattern against the lightly grasped ash white cane. Swish, swish, swish as she flicked the gyrating thighs and bottom, painting a pattern of stripes and exquisite agony.

“And now for the choral, my little Puppet”, she cooed, her mellifluous voice starting to get husky with sexual excitement. Her finger danced a light waltz across his engorged organ, teasing and denying release. A pair of nails reached up to pinch his erect nipples, causing exquisite agony, and a song of pain and pleasure to sing from his open mouth.

With a shudder he reached a climax and slumped down, help up only by the ropes around his wrists

“…and when I reach 3, you will be wide awake and feel refreshed and energized”

He opened his eyes, and looked into Lady J’s eyes, amazed to find he was still dressed. But a telling bulge and damp spot on his trousers drew an amused raised eyebrow from the Lady he adored.


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