"Pathetique" (c) Copyright, "John Siney" "2004"
SeverinRossetti@aol.com 
All Rights Reserved - Copy/Duplication prohibted

Pathetique: Sinphony Number 1

Mistress welcomes me at the door with barely a hint of a smile, immediately turns her back on me, saying, “Close it after you, boy, and follow me.”

She walks along the hall and climbs the stairs, I behind her watching the movement of her body which is like some liquid thing beneath the shimmering silk of her nightdress. The stairs are thickly carpeted, we both move in near silence, but she never once looks back over her shoulder to check that I am there. She has no need to, she knows I will follow, she already has me beguiled.

Along the landing, she enters a bedroom, and as I follow she is already seating herself in a comfortable chair beside the bed. She glances down to a spot on the floor some feet from her, directing where I should stand, and I take up my position before her.

“Now strip,” she says.

Under her steady gaze I kick off my shoes, remove my socks, my shirt. As I unbuckle my belt my fingers begin to tremble, I let my trousers fall and step from them, then my boxers. I am naked before my Mistress, my hands at my side. She regards me in silence for a while, then stands, circles me, a hand brushing my bare hip.

Behind me, her breath warm against my neck, she says, “Hands back, slut.”

I clasp my hands behind me and in an instant they are tied. Then fingers tantalisingly brush my flesh as my upper arms are bound, bands circle my chest and stomach as my body is immobilised.

I now feel that I belong to Mistress, I am hers to do with as she will.

After a brief pause, fingertips stroke my nipples to excite them, I close my eyes to the pleasure I feel and then gasp at the pain as pegs bite into the sensitive flash. My nipples sting, then burn, throb, and when I open my eyes I see that Mistress is seated before me again, smiling at last, enjoying my discomfort and the power she has over me.

Slowly she raises the hem of her nightdress, I hear the soft kissing sound of silk against her smooth skin as her thighs are bared and she parts them.

“On your knees, slut, and come towards me.”

Cautiously I get to my knees, then inch towards Mistress. When I am kneeling between her thighs, and as they close around me to hold me there, Mistress slips one strap from her shoulder, then the other. Her breasts are bared, she raises her hands to cup them, runs nails across them to make the nipples stick out proud and inviting.

Her voice is like a soft and distant song as she leans forward, saying, “And now darling boy, sweet child of mine, suckle on my breasts. Lap at them as a child would at its mother’s. You have hours in which to please me.”

Mistress is like a spectre, a wraith, she is silent as she circles me, moving with the elegant grace of a predator. I am blindfolded and the only clue I have of her presence is the faint hint of her perfume, the soft warmth of her body. A hand brushes my shoulder and I flinch, a nail scratches my back and I shudder. The silence is intimidating, the anticipation intense.

Her touch quickens, coming from the left and from the right, from the front and from the back, sometimes softly caressing and other times cruelly abrasive. Unable to see, I become dizzy beneath her touch, as if I am being spun on a carousel of sensation. Not knowing where the next caress will come from, or whether it will be kind or painful, my body trembles, leans forst one way and then the
 other, to where I think she is.

“Be still!” she says, striking me hard across the arse.

Then I know she is before me, I can feel her scented breath on my face, as soft as a veil which is drawn slowly over it.

Her hands rest lightly on my shoulders, run down my arms, take hold of my wrists. She steps back, draws me with her, towards the bed, then turns and lowers me down onto it. One hand is raised above my head, tied to the foot of the bed, and then the other. The mattress shifts as Mistress climbs onto it, I feel the silk of her nightdress brush across my thighs, my belly, as she climbs slowly up my body. Astride my chest she turns, faces my feet, and I feel the heat of her body above my face.

My other senses heightened, since I still can’t see, I hear the sound of her mounting excitement, a soft and rhythmic liquid noise which is followed by a low chuckle.

“I am playing with myself,” Mistress tells me. “I am wet and you are thirsty for me. Taste me, drink me, drown in me.”

And then there is a smothering rushing silence as her body lowers itself onto my face. There is nothing I am conscious of but Mistress, my world is her pleasure and my obligation is to please.

Smothered beneath Mistress, gasping for breath as I lick dutifully at her cunt, I am not aware of her leaning forward until I feel her breasts heavy against my belly. Then there is a warm gasp, an excited twitching of my cock as she blows on it. She laughs at my response and touches her lips to the swollen tip, licks her tongue once across it and then sucks it between her teeth, harshly, causing me to cry into her cunt.

“That’s it, pet, stay hard for Mistress,” she says, letting my cock slip from her mouth. “Stay hard in case I need you, in case I want to fuck your cock as well as your mouth.”

Her hands stroke the inside of my thighs, carefully avoiding my cock and balls, which are now aching for her. Slowly she runs her hands up and down, sometimes barely touching, making me squirm beneath her and lap more greedily.

Then she feels my muffled scream in her cunt as her nails dig into my thighs, scratch up my belly and rake my chest. Her whole weight bears down on my face, stifling any further noise, as her back arches.

“Make me wetter with your tears,” she tells me. “Sob for me, please me with your pain.”

My face has been made slick by her pleasure, by my tears, I can still taste her and breath her as her body lifts from me. I take deep gasps of air as I feel my wrists released, blink as the blindfold is removed, and by the time my eyes become accustomed to the brightness Mistress has moved to the head of the bed.

“On your belly, on all fours,” she tells me. “Crawl to me.”

I see her resting against the pillows, her legs spread wide, and begin to move towards her. But too quickly, my need for her is too great, and she rests a foot on my shoulder.

“Slowly, pet,” she tells me. “Begin with my toes.”

I kiss each toe, lick between them, then lick the insteps. Slowly, as slowly as Mistress demands, I lick up her calves, along her thighs. Then I feel her hands at the back of my head pulling me closer still. It is her most affectionate gesture yet, I can almost believe it is born of love, and it brings more tears to my eyes. But now I see her cruel and selfish smile.

“For my pleasure,” she reminds me. “Not for yours. You know what is required.”

My cock aches for Mistress, my body thrills at her nearness, my hands itch to touch as I lower my mouth once more.

“No fingers, not yet,” Mistress warns, raising her knees, resting her feet on my shoulders. “It takes more effort to make me come with your tongue, and that is what I want from you. Effort.”

“Yes Mistress,” I murmur, as I begin to lick at her.

“And more tears,” she decides, “to add some bitterness to my pleasure.”

A sting scorches my flesh as I feel her bring a lash down across my buttocks, driving my tongue deeper inside her. A stroke more, and then another, and soon I am weeping over her cunt as I worship it with my mouth, the salty tears making her swollen lips smart even as my kisses soothe them

Soft sheets beneath me are like sandpaper against my swollen cock and I groan aloud as I press my tongue deep inside her.

“You want to come, my sweet?” she says, guessing at my agony. “Then make Mistress come and she just might let you follow.”

Mistress is first…..

Mistress is always first …..

Music washes over me, as soft and soothing as the caress of my Mistress. I have been bound, I have been beaten by her and now I kneel beside her as she rests, seated in an armchair, her eyes closed in appreciation of the peace which the music brings.

One hand rests on my neck, fingers curled beneath my chin to hold my head up, keeping my back erect. On my haunches, I feel like an obedient pet waiting for my Mistress to acknowledge me, to offer some small sign of affection or approval.

Out of the corner of my eye, not turning until Mistress says I may, I am aware of her other hand moving to her lap, then slowly drawing her nightdress up her legs. Then there is a gentle pressure on my neck, she tilts my head and I see her smooth thighs bared, her fingers slipping between them. I gaze down with love, with veneration, until the fingers curled beneath my chin slowly raise my head to gaze into the eyes of my Mistress. There is the hint of a smile in those eyes, a gentle curve to the lips and then the slightest suggestion of a nod, at which I lower my face, kiss her thighs, bury my face in her lap.

The loving way she caresses my neck can as easily bring tears to my eyes as any pain she has caused me, after the way she has used me I can only love her all the more for the kindness she now shows.

The feelings I have for my Mistress are as rhapsodic as the music which washes over me.
My spirit is broken by Mistress, my love for her is total, I am nothing without her…. Pathetic.
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