Page 136 of Masters of Control

Talk about erotic torture.

Camille

Returning to her bedroom, where Freddy waited for her, the sight of him in her bed, tied up and blindfolded, vulnerable and waiting for her like a good boy made her smile so wide, her face hurt. Not that he had a lot of opportunity to move, but she had secured the restraints with Velcro, heavy duty Velcro but still Velcro, and he could have gotten free if he really wanted to. Some subs might do it just to give their Dominant a reason to punish them, but while Freddy might be full of sass, he wasn’t a brat.

“Good boy,” she said, enjoying the sight of his cock flexing at the sound of her praise.

Walking to the edge of the bed, she laid out the items she’d found around the house. There wasn’t as much as she would have liked. She wished she’d thought about ordering some new toys and implements now that she was getting back into the scene, but some part of her hadn’t believed she’d really go through with it because every time she’d had the thought, she’d dismissed it. On the other hand, sometimes, it was fun to make do with what one had.

When the ice clinked against the sides of the bowl, Freddy’s head turned toward the sound, trying to figure out what it was. Next to the bowl of ice, she put the long feather she’d found in one of her drawers, leftover from a hat she’d worn for a costume years ago. It had fallen out of the hat, and she’d kept meaning to repair it but never got around to it.

Sometimes, procrastination paid off. If it had been attached to the hat, she wouldn’t have been able to use it for tonight.

The last thing she put down was a paintbrush. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to use it for, but she’d grabbed it, sure she’d be able to figure something out.

Tomorrow, she would be ordering some new toys, regardless of how much fun it was to play with found objects.

Looking at her options, she picked up the feather. Brushing it lightly over Freddy’s leg, she grinned when he didn’t seem to feel it until it reached his thigh. He jumped, his head moving back and forth and tilting up, as if he was trying to peek under the blindfold.

“Naughty, no peeking,” she said, giving the top of his thigh a short, sharp smack before moving the feather tendrils up to his stomach.

“Fuck!” He tightened his stomach muscles, flexing, and Camille grinned as she realized the problem—he was ticklish.

“Something wrong, Freddy?” she asked innocently, brushing it up to his chest, then back down again, holding back her sadistic giggles as he writhed and strained.

“No, Mistress.” The words came out clipped, then he clenched his jaw, obviously trying to keep himself under control as she moved the feather. Brushing it up and down his torso, it wasn’t too hard to find his most ticklish spots—right under his ribs, the outer sides of his stomach, and of course, his armpits.

He didn’t want to laugh, which she took as a personal challenge. It also gave her an idea for the paint brush.

Freddy

“Fuck!” Freddy’s toes curled. The ticklish sensation of something very lightly dancing over his skin had been exchanged for a firm but still ticklish stroke up his side and along the underside of his rib. He tried to twist away but couldn’t.

Tickling was not one of his kinks. He’d never even thought about it as something to do, though he’d known it could be a kink for some people. Freddy had never particularly liked being tickled, and while the feathery strokes were both torturous and fun, it was enough, he almost called out his slowdown word. Before he could, Camille’s hand wrapped around his cock, giving it a firm stroke as she ran what felt like some kind of small brush up his other side, causing him to writhe again.

With her thumb rubbing over the swollen head of his dick, the sensation felt different. Still ticklish. Still making him want to writhe and laugh. But now it was infused with the pleasure from her hand stroking him, the warmth of her palm heating his cock as she moved it up and down his shaft.

The conflicting sensations made him whimper.

Pain was something he was used to dealing with, but this? This was chaos for his senses, yet he wasn’t sure he wanted her to stop.

The brush moved around his nipple, the stiff bristles moving over the tiny bud and making a little circle. Then her hand released his cock, and he moaned with reluctance, only to cry out as something icy cold replaced the brush, freezing his sensitive nub. Sensation play was not something he’d gotten to indulge much in at the club. Dominants wanted to whip, belt, flog, or spank when they were at the club. The opportunities for sensation play were much fewer and further between. He hadn’t really felt like he was missing out since he loved impact play, but right now, he was feeling he may have been wrong about not being interested in sensation play.

Or maybe it was just because it was Mistress Camille.

The ice lifted, replaced by her warm, wet mouth. Freddy groaned, writhing again, only to gasp as the ice landed on his other nipple. Hot on one, freezing on the other, and unable to do anything about either. The ice was cold enough to hurt, but the heat warmed him from the inside out.

His skin quivered as she lifted her mouth and moved to the other nipple, but rather than moving the ice back to the first nipple, she slid the piece down his body. His stomach muscles quivered and contracted as cold water trickled over his skin as the ice melted. He shivered despite the warmth of her mouth on his nipple, her tongue teasing the sensitive bud.

“Fuck!” he screamed as she wrapped her hand around his dick again. This was no warm palm, the way it had been before. No, the piece of ice hadn’t melted yet, and she was rubbing it up and down his cock, the rest of her hand cold from holding it, even if it wasn’t freezing. His dick wanted to shrink away, but the friction felt too good, confusing his senses as she gave him the coldest hand job he’d ever experienced.

Icy water dripped down his shaft to his balls, making his whole body tremble as she tortured him with the hot and cold. It was heaven and hell, fire and ice, and so fucking sexy, he could barely breathe.

When her mouth lifted from his nipple, he felt her shifting on the bed. He heard the ice clink, but there was no sign of what was coming next until something dropped onto his abdomen, making his stomach muscles tighten again.

“Fuck, that’s cold.”

A low chuckle met his words, but she didn’t say anything as she painted his body with the ice water. It tickled and was cold as hell, yet his erection was as thick and eager as ever. At this point, he wasn’t sure anything would be able to make it deflate, he was so turned on. He groaned as she moved the brush over his body, occasionally pausing to gather more icy water on its bristles. She moved it over his most ticklish spots, making him gasp when she reached his armpits and suck in his stomach as she circled his belly button. When she moved it down over his groin, he shuddered, the bed creaking as his muscles tensed, and he pulled on the restraints.