Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Maria on Her Knees by anon1940 I am kneeling on the floor in front of you. We are both totally naked, except I am wearing the rope girdle you had designed for me, with a small knot pressing inside my inner lips against my clitoris and a larger knot firmly against my anus. My breasts are jutting out, tantalizingly visible to you on either side of your erect penis. Each breast is crowned by an excited nipple, each with a tight nipple clamp further elongating its already taut flesh. You palpate them, lifting one firm globe and then the other in your soft hands. I look up at you longingly, my blond hair pulled back to expose my delicate ears. You stare back in appreciation as your view of my rounded buttock that swells out from my narrow waist and is bisected by the rope of my hemp girdle. I have lust in my eyes as I put a lubricated condom on my index finger. I cup your scrotum and gently massages your testicles as I run my tongue over them. When I flick the slit at the tip of your penis with my tongue and I draw my tongue along the sensitive groove on the underside of your mushroom cap, a large glob of clear fluid emerges and lands on the flat of my tongue. I tilt my head upwards for you to see your first deposit, and then swallow it greedily. When I see you take the cat-o-nine tails from the table beside you, I obediently and willingly place my hands behind my back to expose the expanse of pale white skin on which you will practice your artistry. Soon I feel the lashes across one of my shoulders, whose gentle slope you so much admire. As you watch the red lines appear, you raise your hand again and apply the whip to my other shoulder, while we gaze intently each others eyes. Our gaze stays locked when the lashes reach around and under first one and then the other proffered breast. You are pleased with your painting, and I am pleased to be your canvas. Next, you direct your attention to my buttock, crisscrossing both cheeks with carefully placed red lines. You are infatuated by the response of the flesh on my buttock, and describe in detail the way it swells along the lines that your whip has created, accentuating the contrast between the red of the struck flesh and that which has yet to be struck. Finally one blow finds its way down the crevice separating my buttock cheeks, striking the knot at the entrance to my anus and producing additional delicious pressure on my protruding clitoris. I am on the verge of orgasm, but you forbid me to cum. Instead, you repeat the process, knowing and enjoying the sweet torture that you are causing me. I look up at you, silently begging for permission to cum. You just smile and continue. Knowing that you intend to prolong my desire to climax, I again raise my hands to your scrotum, holding your sack in one hand and placing my shielded index finger firmly against your anus. I start to massage them both. On your face, I see your lips form a gentle "O". I follow suit in front of your now throbbing penis, and open my mouth. I lean forward as you watch your penis enter the soft and warm interior of my mouth. As first the large head and then more and more of your thick shaft disappear, I force my index finger deeper into your rectum and move it in a rhythmically in a circular motion. You savor the contrast between the reds and whites of the painting you have created, and appreciate the way my breasts sway and jiggle as your penis penetrates ever deeper into my welcoming mouth. Not wanting to reach orgasm too soon, you lean forward and grasp the cord that descends from the rope cinching my waist. With calculated cruelty, you yank on the cord, knowing full well the torment that your action will cause me. Instinctively, I rise and lean over, with my hands resting on the back to the chair in which you are seated. One by one you remove the clamps from my nipples. For several minutes, you do not touch the throbbing nubs of flesh that you have released. You know the pain I feel when they expand under the pressure of the blood that is now able to reach them, and you savor the sensual dance that I perform as I absorb that pain. As soon as my dance comes to an end, you place your hands on my shoulders and pull me forward until my pendulous breasts are grazing against your lips. One by one, you suck my nipples deep into your mouth, tweeking them with your tongue and gently running your teeth along their distended stems. After you have satisfied your oral cravings, you again grasp the cord bisecting my belly and force me to resume my kneeling position between your legs. Smiling, you tell me that you are going to have me achieve my orgasm by making love to the rope between my legs while holding your penis in my mouth. After I take you into my mouth, with diabolical precision, you shift the cord in your hands so that the knots on the rope press against their respective targets. You are in no hurry, and several times interrupt my approach to orgasm by twisting the rope so that the pain it inflicts cancels the pleasure it is providing. Only after you see that I am totally resigned to my fate do you grant me the relief that I am seeking. When my orgasm comes, I purposely embed the rope deeper into the groove in which it lies, relishing the pain tinged pleasure that it brings to my most vulnerable region. In spite of the all consuming sensations that flood my entire body, I never neglect my obligation to have my mouth provide a soft, warm nest for your penis. If you had given me permission, I know that I could easily precipitate your climax at any time, but I resist the temptation to do so and reconcile myself to accepting the drops on sperm dribbling onto my tongue as, at least for now, the only reward that I will get for my oral efforts. After my orgasm subsides, I wonder what I am to do next. From past experience, I know that it takes you longer to regenerate your sexual drive after orgasm than it takes me to recover mine, and for that reason I am accustomed to having having multiple orgasms before you have even one. Further, I have become adept in the art of keeping you on the brink of orgasm but delaying your climax until you are ready. Indeed, I very much enjoy the power that I have to bring your penis to painfully rigid erection and maintain it in that state for long periods of time. Thinking that the present is an ideal time to exercise my skills, I lean back so that your penis is no longer in my mouth. I am gratified by its rigidity, and for several seconds am content to watch it bob up and down as if seeking a place to rest. Solicitously, I reach forward and run my fingers along its knotty surface, pressing my fingers gently into the swollen veins that protrude along its sides. Arresting its motion by placing the index finger of my left hand at its tip, I use the fingers of my right hand to stroke the sperm engorged urethra that bulges along the underside of your shaft. With an innocent smile on my face, I stare up into your eyes as I adminster this form of divine torment. Although neither of us acknowledges it openly, we both know that, for the moment, our roles are reversed: you are now under my control, just as earlier I was under yours. My control over you is less explicit than yours over me, but it is no less complete. I have no compunctions about causing you the same sort of anguish that you have given me and am unashamed of the pleasure that I am getting from watching you squirm in response to my teasing. When it becomes clear that further tactile stimulation will result in a premature ejaculation, I remove my hands and crawl a few feet away from your chair. My plan is to give you graphic evidence of my availability. Knowing how much you enjoy having me display my body in poses that are simultaneously aesthetic and challenging, I remove my crotch strap and fetch the double pronged dildo on which you have sometimes had me sit. At all times conscious of the need to present a pleasing image, I position the dildo in back of me and fold my legs into a lotus position. Leaning forward onto my crossed knees, I carefully lower myself onto the dildo, taking one prong into my vagina and the other into my rectum as I descend. Once they are fully embedded, I straighten up and raise my bent arms to the side so that my hands frame my head and my torso is attractively displayed for your delectation. Thoroughly impaled, I defiantly stare into your face. The ball is in your court, and I await your decision about which of my orifices you will choose to relieve your torment. I am hoping that your frustration will mean that you will make your choice quickly, but I fear that the pleasure you are getting from my pose will distract you. Indeed, I can see that you are scrutinizing every facet of my blantly presented body. You know how deep inside me the prongs have penetrated, and you are scanning my body for evidence of the effect they are having. Thus, I grow increasingly self-conscious and try to monitor my every movement. With each breath, the prongs shift inside as my firm belly expands and contracts. Remembering how much you enjoy a well disciplined female abdomen, I attempt to make these expansions and contractions aesthetically pleasing. I am also aware of your attention to the response of my breasts and upper body to the strain imposed on it by my raised arms. My arms have begun to tremble, and a thin film of sweat now coats my entire upper torso so that my breasts literally glisten. I am proud that the sight of my body gives you pleasure and am ready to bear the frustration and discomfort that providing that pleasure is causing me. Finally, you rise from the chair and approach me, your erection bobbing up and down as you come. Bending over, you grasp me by my damp armpits and lift me to my feet. With the dildo still embedded, I stand on my toes and plant a warm kiss of love and gratitude on your lips. While our mouths are fused together, you reach behind me and gently extract the prongs from my body. I feel relief at their departure but, at the same time, regret at the loss of their presence. You lead me to the back of the chair in which you were sitting and bend me forward over its back. I am suspended by my hips with the top of my head resting on the seat and my toes barely touching the floor. Standing behind me, you spread my legs a little and slide your hand along the entire length of the channel between my legs, stopping briefly to probe my dilated anus with your fingers and caress the leaves of my labia. You leave me hanging to fetch the specially designed dildo that you sometimes use in my rectum while we are having intercourse. The dildo is a rod that has a smoothly contoured, oblong bulb at one end. The bulb is tapered so that it is less than half an inch at either end, but at its center it is nearly two inches in diameter. You place the bulb in the ring of my anus and begin my impalement. As my sphincter opens, the bulb delves deeper. When the center of the bulb passes through, I release a plaintiff cry of distress, but once it is inside my rectum, my distress is replaced by a sensual feeling of fullness. Holding the rod with one hand, you use your other hand to introduce your penis into my vagina. I glory in my double penetration. As you pump my vagina with your penis, you pump my rectum with the dildo. The pressure of the bulb pressing against your penis through my perineal membrane gives me exquisite sensations that spread in waves throughout my body. When you can delay your orgasm no longer, you lean forward and capture my hanging breasts in your hands. With your fingers squeezing my nipples, we reach our climax.