Free Alison's Wonderland by Alison Tyler Page B

went red and his thigh muscles rubbery. Only then, when she’d exhausted both herself and her slave, did Madame Belle relax alongside her servant, relishing the feel of his naked body against her and the hardness of his cock, still moist from her, in her hand. She stroked it rhythmically and caressed it with her long, slender fingers.
    Perhaps it was the very late hour and the long journey and her own physical satisfaction that made her feel so drunk with excitement.
    Or perhaps it was the pleasure of power over her servant that made Madame Belle say to Andrew: “I could let you come.”
    “Yes, Mistress,” he said, his voice thick with hunger and weak with submission. “If you wished to do so.”
    She stroked her fingers up and down his wet cock, alternately caressing and gripping it, showing the extensive skills at manual pleasuring she had gained from her long, long time on her knees. So many times she’d been engaged to pleasure a man with her hands, and she knew Andrew was very, very close. Her habit was, unquestionably, to satisfy the man immediately, per her role in life. But now she felt differently. It would have taken a few firm strokes of her hand, or the permission for Andrew to mount her again and fuck her for his pleasure, or a few quick slurps of her mouth—which was even now watering. She could even just issue a dismissive word that would allow Andrew to satisfy himself: “Stroke,” or “Jerk,” or “Finish” or, most simply, “Come.”
    But she did not say any of these words, or pump Andrew’s cock with her hand, or order him back into her or go down to suck him, though she very badly wanted to. It was the first time she had ever been with a man without going down on him. It would be the first time, she decided, that she had ever been with a man when he did not come.
    Belle sighed and laughed musically. She removed her hand from Andrew’s cock and stretched her naked body out across the great expanse of the bed. She’d like it all to herself, she decided, and as delicious as Andrew was, she was finished with him.
    “I don’t think so,” she told him. “Go now. Wake me in the morning.”
    “Yes, Madame,” said Andrew. “May I kiss you goodbye?”
    She looked at him pleasantly.
    “No,” she said.
    “Yes, Madame.” He got out of her bed and stood beside her, his cock erect and pink with effort, still glistening with her. Belle yawned and closed her eyes.
    “May I ask a question?”
    “What is it?” said Belle flatly, without opening her eyes.
    “Did Madame enjoy herself?”
    Belle’s eyes popped open; she looked Andrew up and down.
    She had enjoyed herself very much; she was almost terrified by the pleasure. She’d had more orgasms than she’d ever been allowed during any other tryst throughout her long life as a submissive, or before, when she’d gone to bed with men on equal footing, when she’d had, in fact, very few orgasms. But the vast physical pleasure she’d experienced was as nothing compared to the overwhelming intoxication of power. She felt ecstatic over the fact that she was being asked—and could answer as she wished, something she’d never been able to do the dozens of times she’d been asked before she became kinky,when she’d always said yes out of politeness, often elaborating with great vigor despite being vaguely dissatisfied.
    Now, her body soft and relaxed with many orgasms, her satisfaction overpowering, she could answer as it pleased her to do so, and she realized she did not know how best to use this new tool for her amusement.
    “Not nearly enough,” said Belle coldly. “You’ll have to try harder next time.” She felt a surge of excitement at the look of deep submission on Andrew’s face. His cock remained hard. She closed her eyes.
    “Madame, am I allowed to masturbate?” he asked.
    She opened her mouth to ask, “Is that my decision to make?” but stopped herself before she uttered the question.
    Instead, she looked at him pleasantly,