Leather and Lace

Chapter One

Whack!!

I love the sound that my leather flogger makes as it brushes across the bare skin of my current sub.

Whack!!

The surprise pain that he feels is quickly replaced with pleasure. The redness appears as a reminder of what he wants. What he needs. Having this control makes me feel empowered and strong.

Whack!!

The way he begs me for more. "Please, Lace. Give it to me again." Pleading for another crack of my leather strings across his skin. His desire for the pain – turned pleasure – is too much for him to take. The sting bringing him closer to his release. The release that he is chasing. The very same release that I am being paid to give him. "Yes, again," he moans. His voice deep and gravely.

Whack!!

This time my whip burns across his bare ass. His hands remain tied behind his back, as he kneels forward, his face close to the silk sheet covered mattress on the floor. He begs me for more. He wants his release. He needs it and I am going to give it to him.

His name is John, for sure not his real name. I don't know if he is married or not or if he has a family that he goes home to after I give him the pleasure that he says only I can. I don't really care. I don't have sex with any of them, I am paid to fulfill a fantasy. His fantasy. A fantasy that ends with his climax and my bank account getting fatter. Almost all of them want their happy ending. Some get that here, with me, others use me to get worked up and go home to fuck whomever it is they fuck. Again, I don't care, I get paid either way.

"Oh, God. Lace. You know how I like it. Mm, I am so fucking hard for you," he stammers. "Make me cum, baby." I smile, but he can't see it behind my full white face mask. John always likes to use pet names for me, like I am his. Some of them like to talk to me like they know me. Like we are in some kind of a relationship. I guess I do know some of their deepest, darkest secrets and that makes them feel a little more comfortable with me. Some of the guys think that they can use this as some type of confessional, and they tell me way too much.

They think they know my secrets, but truth is, they don't even know me at all. My real name is not Lace and they never even see my uncovered face. I wear a mask every time. Today, I have a white full-face mask on. I have on a black nightie and black fishnet stockings with my signature black heels.

They never see me naked. They do not know my deepest, darkest desires. They don't know what makes me come undone. It is surely not what they think it is, them begging me for more of what I do to them. It does make me feel empowered and sometimes, even sexy, but it doesn't get me off. I don't get sexually aroused by them. I pretend that I do, to heighten their experience, but it is all fake. Like, When Harry Met Sally, fake. Meg Ryan has nothing on me.

"Oh, yes... baby... ahhh... fuuuccckkk." I see his body start to shake. I know he is getting close and I know exactly what to do to get him there. I grab one of my feathers. I step up beside him so that his eyes are on my legs. I grab him by his hair, pulling him up to a kneeling position. He has had enough of my whip today. He's ready. I lean in to whisper in his ear, my hand still holding him by the hair, my voice deeper than usual and my hot breath on his glistening skin.

"Cum for me, John." I gently rub the feather around and up and down the length of his pulsing manhood. He twitches at the contact, "Now."

"Ugh," he groans as he finds his release.

This is not my first time with John. He comes every week. No pun intended, okay maybe a little pun intended. I know what turns him on. I can make him cum really fast if I wanted to, but I don't. I draw it out for him. That is what he says makes him keep coming back to me.