Page 142 of Masters of Secrets

Every movement he made, every small shift of his body, moved the ropes. They were wrapped around him tightly but not painfully, and they moved with him. He was hyperaware of the sensations and the feeling of security, as though he was being held, even though Mistress Julie wasn’t actually touching him at the moment.

It also made his ears strain, trying to figure out what she was doing, though he had to hold absolutely still in order to focus on that. Because the second he moved, his whole body lit up from the sensations of the rope moving against his skin, and it was incredibly distracting.

The whole time, it felt like his dick was going to break off.

She was doing something by the fridge. Or in the fridge. Or maybe the freezer. He’d heard one of the doors open. His head went to trying to figure out what he had in there that she might want.

A glass of water? Was she thirsty? Or getting more wine?

Ice? That made his balls want to shrivel, but he knew it was a possibility. Sensation play.

As long as she didn’t plan on icing his balls, he’d probably be able to deal with it…

Footsteps came closer, and he turned his head in the direction of them, his eyes straining as if he might be able to see through the blindfold. Sadly, no. It was a really good blindfold.

At least now he knew none of the subs who had previously worn it had been lying when they said they couldn’t see a thing. He’d liked using the blindfold because it had taken some of the pressure off him when he’d been the one leading the scene. Now, he liked it because it kept him guessing, but he also hated it because he liked watching Mistress Julie.

Seeing her kneeling between his legs, even though she’d just been tying him up, was going to give him fantasy fodder for weeks.

“You know what I realized, Connor?” she asked as she moved in front of him. Something brushed against the inside of his thigh, making him jerk, which moved all the ropes again.

“What, Mistress?” he asked. The strain in his voice was evident.

“I realized we skipped dessert. So, I thought I should have it now.”

The slight hissing sound was the only warning he got before something cool and soft landed right on his dick.

Shit! Whipped cream!

The aerosol kind. It wasn’t freezing, like ice, but it was cold enough to make him try to jerk away—which, of course, he couldn’t. Both the chair and the ropes stopped him. A moment later, he was very thankful for that, as a hot tongue followed the path of the whipped cream, licking it off his dick.

Connor froze.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, as though he thought she’d suddenly stop if he moved, but he felt her tongue and instinctively went stock still.

“Mmm.”

Fuck. Just the sound of her pleasure made his cock throb in response, the air cool against where she’d just licked the cream from it.

The hissing noise and the chill swath that spread over the length of his cock was very welcome because now he knew what came next. Wet warmth slid over his length, lapping up the cream, making him shudder from the mixing sensations.

“Fuck…” The word came out as a guttural groan as her tongue teased the underside of his cock, all the way up to the extra sensitive tip.

“Not yet,” she answered, teasing. He didn’t get a chance to respond as she unleashed a whole pile of whipped cream onto the tip of his dick. He winced at the chilly sensation, then gasped as she didn’t lick it off—no, she took the whole head of his cock into her mouth, sucking it off and laving her tongue over the tip for good measure.

Then she was gone again.

It was the most frustrating blowjob he’d ever received in his life and also the most thrilling.

Cool cream. The wet heat of her tongue or mouth. And then the retreat. Never giving him enough to truly work his way toward orgasm. Never doing more than what she needed to get her cream. Toying with him and the alternating chill and heat on his most sensitive parts.

She worked her way up and down the shaft, coming back to the tip several times as though she liked hearing him whimper. Connor didn’t bother to hold back with the sounds he was making. Why fight it? It felt really fucking good, and he wanted her to know that.

The ache grew in his balls with every passing second, making him squirm in the seat, the ropes rubbing over his skin. She’d done a good job tying him; nothing tightened too much, but he was held securely in place too.

It was starting to drive him up the wall. The need was growing, and while he hadn’t held back on the sounds he was making, he did hold back on the begging. Not because he was too proud but because he didn’t want her to feel like she had to stop what she was doing if she wasn’t ready. While he knew that a dominant would do what they wanted, he was trying really hard to show that he was fully submitting to her control.

That included not begging for anything specific.