Magnolia's Games

"Do you really think I need a reason to torture you, honey? You must know by now: I'm a woman of particular tastes. Hell, there's no getting around it... I'm a sadist. I like to make my boys suffer. There's nothing in the world more fun than that. And I don't need an excuse to have fun—do I?"

Again, I see Mark's lips twitch as he struggles to speak, searching for the right words.

"N-no, Miss Maggie..." he breathes. "B-but... But I've had enough. P-please... I can't take any more..."

Miss Maggie nods slowly as she looks down at Mark with eyes full of concern.

"That's alright, honey," she says. "If you want me to let you out, I'll let you out. But I think you want more than that, don't you? You're aching for a nice orgasm. I can tell. Being locked up for a whole month does funny things to a man's head. But you know better than to cum without permission. Do you want permission? Go on. Be honest."

He looks up at Miss Maggie with pleading eyes.

"Please, Miss Maggie... Please let me cum... I'll...I'll do anything..."

She smiles.

"Anything, darlin'? Good. That's just what I wanted to hear."

Grinning with glee, she slips out of her pumps and nudges them aside with one foot, revealing her bare toes—each nail immaculately pedicured and painted a deep oxblood red. Still grinning, she points to her left foot, pointing with her toe like a ballerina.

"On your knees, honey," she orders. "Kiss my feet. And don't stop 'til I say so."

Before she's even finished speaking, Mark is rising to his feet and easing himself down into a kneeling position, his head bowed obediently. He's clearly done this before; even as uncomfortable as he must be, his posture is impeccable. He crosses his wrists behind his back, spreads his knees, and lowers his head to her outstretched left foot until his nose is brushing her toes. He takes a moment to inhale her scent, then presses his lips to her instep, making gentle sucking sounds as he plants kisses up and down the length of her foot.

He keeps it up for a good five minutes, never wavering as he kisses each and every exposed inch of her bare foot. He only pauses when he feels Miss Maggie's hand on his head as she strokes his hair with one finger. Then she draws her left foot back and extends her right foot, and Mark lavishes it with tender kisses—even more enthusiastically than before. He doesn't stop until she reaches forward and tenderly pats his head.

"That's good, honey," she says, as he finally raises his head and looks up at her face. "But there's something else you can do for me..."

She turns her back to him. Already, her hands are at the hem of her tight dress as she slowly tugs it upward—inch by inch—all the way to her waist. Mark gives a little gasp as he watches the outline of her panties slowly come into view, betrayed by the telltale fringe of black lace. With a malicious grin, she looks down over her shoulder at him as she exposes herself, pointing to her panty-clad bottom with one perfectly manicured finger.

Miss Maggie's got all the grace and poise of an old-fashioned Southern belle, with the powerful legs, toned thighs and slender waist of a dancer, but her svelte profile is offset only by the ample curve of her round backside—the sole marker of her years of indulgent living. A rigid schedule of Pilates and yoga has kept her thin, but her ass is just as delightfully soft and plump as ever. In moments like this, when she teases her boys with a glimpse of her behind, I've always suspected that she deliberately wears panties a size too small. Tonight, she chose a tiny little black satin number, decorated with a lace fringe patterned with elegant floral designs and tight whorls. As she provocatively juts her ass out at Mark to tempt him, those lace-fringed panties stretch even tighter against her ample buttocks, tantalizingly exposing the full outline of the cleft of her bottom.

"Go on, honey..." she goads, still smiling. "Kiss that oversized ass. You know you want to."

This time, Mark hesitates—but only briefly. He looks back at me, silently imploring me not to judge him for this final act of degradation. I give him a nod and a smile, and he turns back around. Hesitantly, he plants a single shy kiss on her left buttock, letting his lips linger on the soft flesh of her cheek. Then he moves to the right cheek, alternating back and forth as he kisses her backside with earnest enthusiasm, his eyes hopelessly riveted on the broad swell of that perfect bottom. Finally, Miss Maggie reaches down to hold his head in place as he presses his lips against the cute pair of dimples at the small of her back, then gently pats his cheek as she turns back around, letting down the hem of her dress to cover herself.

"You've done good, honey," Miss Maggie says. "Always remember how I reward good boys."

In spite of all his pain and humiliation, Mark smiles as Miss Maggie reaches into her leather handbag and methodically pulls out three objects: a fluted glass bottle full of amber-colored massage oil with a silver stopper, a pair of silver handcuffs, and a cordless white vibrator with a tapered end.

"Moment of truth, darlin'," she says, grinning. "Now sit your ass down in that chair over there, with your hands behind it. Quick, now."

He obeys, and rises to his feet and walks over to the slatted wooden chair with the cushioned leather seat. As he sits down, with his back straight and his feet flat against the floor, any trace of the natural slouch in his back is gone. Just as Miss Maggie ordered, he keeps his hands behind the chair, wrists pressed together.

For the first time in what seems like hours, Miss Maggie turns to look at me, grinning as she holds out the handcuffs.

"How about it, Miss Renée?" she asks. "Any chance you wouldn't mind cuffing him for me? I can't have him squirming too much."

"Gladly," I say, smiling.

I saunter over and grab the handcuffs out of her hand as Mark's eyes follow the motions of my hips, then playfully drag my index finger across Mark's bare shoulders as I move to the back of the chair and clamp the cuffs down on his wrists, threading the chain through the wooden slats to hold his hands fast.

A few feet away, Miss Maggie looks down at him—naked, bound and helpless—with her hands on her hips, nodding with satisfaction. She reaches down into her cleavage to fish out the key, and moves in close to Danny with the key clasped between her thumb and forefinger. She reaches down and inserts the key into the lock, and with a tiny little click, the padlock on his chastity device pops open. He shivers as she takes his balls in her hand and gently guides them out of the grip of the metal ring, then pulls the cage free from his rigid cock.

In seconds, his cock twitches to life and leaps up to full throbbing hardness as Mark squirms in his chair, the chain of his handcuffs rattling and jangling as he instinctively moves to reach for his engorged penis. Miss Maggie's so close to him, he must feel the warmth of her breath against his cock. From my standing position behind the chair, I catch a whiff of the oil in her hair, a faint scent of ripe pears and brown sugar; from where she's bent over Mark's erect cock, the smell must be intoxicating to him.

Gathering her dress around her knees, Miss Maggie lowers herself down into a kneeling position and takes the glass bottle of massage oil in her hands. Without a sound, she plucks off the silver stopper and tips the bottle into her hand, letting a tiny trickle of oil spill out onto her palm. She rubs her palms together until they're shiny and glistening with oil. With slippery fingers, she reaches out to stroke Mark's growing erection as it pulses and quivers with anticipation. As his breath quickens, Mark's eyes stay glued to his cock as he savors the sensation of Miss Maggie's deviously skilled fingers playing the frets and strings of his mindless desire like a dark-haired angel plucking her harp.

Miss Maggie's grip tightens on his cock as she works it hard and fast, and her eyes narrow at him as he tips his head back and sighs.

"Focus, honey," she says. "Look at me. Remember the woman who kept you locked up for thirty days. Remember how she set you free."

His body trembles as she stares into his eyes, and he wills himself to maintain eye contact as he looks back. The motions of her hand speed up as she continues to mercilessly stroke him, little trickles of oil oozing through the spaces between her clenched fingers. It barely takes two minutes before he gasps, feeling himself dangling on the precipice of orgasm—but just as he does, Miss Maggie slows down and slackens her grip, tickling his twitching cock with one index finger.

"Oh, yeah..." Miss Maggie coos as she slides her fingertip up and down his cock. "This is the way I like my men best. Desperate."

In his mind, I imagine Mark mentally cycling through every one of tonight's finest sights and sensations as he attempts to push himself over the edge to orgasm: my half-nude body caressed by lamplight as I danced for him, the glimmer of a silver key between Miss Maggie's breasts, and the feel of her soft flesh against his quivering lips as he kissed her curvaceous bottom and thrilled to the sound of her wicked laughter. It's all been building up to this—thirty days of frustration, all for one magical show.

With one hand, she tickles his cock with her finger. With another, she takes the cordless vibrator in her hand and flicks it on with her thumb, the low buzz of the machine ringing out as it whirs to life. I feel a twinge of déjà vu at the sound; one day not too long ago, Miss Maggie used that very vibrator on me when I was tied to a chair in her bedroom. I can only hope that Mark's sweet release feels as good as mine did.

She moves her oil-slick hand to caress his inner thigh as she nudges the head of the vibrator against his balls, giggling as he shifts and squirms in the chair. Then she moves the whirring vibrator up and down along the full length of his stiff member, and Mark's eyes open wide as he looks down at Miss Maggie while she goes to work on him. As she kneels before him, his eyes are at a perfect angle to peek down the front of her dress, giving him a generous view of her cleavage. He stares and stares as the infernal buzz of the vibrator travels up his thick shaft—and just then, Miss Maggie looks up into his eyes and smirks.

"What are you waiting for, darlin'? Don't you want it? Give me everything you've got. Now."

To encourage him, she fiercely works the vibrator in long movements back and forth along the length of his cock, and in tiny circles along the underside of his engorged tip. But when Mark feels his eruption coming, Miss Maggie feels it too. She leans to one side, just far enough to stay clear. Then a deep groan escapes the back of Mark's throat as his eyes glaze over with pleasure. He strains at his handcuffs as his body shudders and trembles, then arches his back in a great spasm. Still, Miss Maggie teases the shaft of his cock with the buzzing vibrator, and its monotonous whirring mingles with the sound of Mark's voice as he clenches his eyes tight and cries out with pleasure.

"Yes... Yes... Oh—oh God, yes!"

With his eyes squeezed shut, Mark can't savor the sight of his engorged penis as it bucks and twitches when he hits that sweet climax—but I can, and so can Miss Maggie. His orgasm seems to leave him dizzy, his cock erupting with thick, warm streams of semen that soar through the air in a wide arc and splatter on the tiled floor. Then his cries settle down, and he makes no sound but a long sigh of relief. Even when his body finally goes limp and he settles back in the chair, a few drops of semen still gently trickle from the end of his cock, leaving a sticky white stain on his thigh. I'll never really know what it was like for him, denied an orgasm for a whole thirty days. But if I had to guess, I'd say this was everything he'd hoped for.

For one blissful minute, then another, he just lies back in the chair, basking in the peaceful sensation of relief. But when Miss Maggie rises to her feet, the chastity device is already in her hand again.

"How about it, honey?" she asks. "You lasted for thirty days. Think you can go for another thirty days? You've got my word: if you do, you can count on another little rendezvous like this one. Exactly thirty days from today."

His eyes slowly open. He looks up into Miss Maggie's eyes, seemingly too overwhelmed by the sensation of orgasm to speak. But then he opens his mouth—and for once, he doesn't stutter.

"Yes," he says. "God, yes..."

Miss Maggie smiles sweetly as she slips the metal cage back over his limp cock, fits his balls through the thick ring, then locks him back up with a faint little click. Again, his eyes are riveted on the swell of her ample cleavage as she fits the silver necklace around her neck and slides the key between her breasts. She doesn't chide him for staring, but she puts one hand on his chin and tips his head upward to look her in the eye.

"Rest while you can, honey," Miss Maggie says. "Sherri's gonna be in here in a few minutes to unlock your cuffs. Hope you don't mind her seeing you naked."

She grins as she turns and walks towards the door at the far side of the room, gesturing at me to follow her.

"See you in a month, darlin'," she says.

I lean over to kiss Mark's cheek before I follow her across the room and through the door, letting it swing shut behind me. As soon as we're out of earshot backstage, I feel Miss Maggie's hand on my shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you, Kara," she whispers. "One of these evenings, you're gonna have to dance for me..."