He was alone in a carpeted room. White walls, no windows, a single door directly ahead of the chair to which he was bound, a chair that itself had been bolted to the floor. He was naked, apart from the six strap suspender belt and sheer 10 denier black nylons she had cajoled him into donning. His erection was a bar of lead pointing up towards the single white light bulb over head. His wrists were securely behind his back, reams of rope subduing  him, the same coil also securing the wrists to the chair itself. His ankles were lashed to each chair leg, and his knees were secured also. More rope was taut around his torso, keeping him securely in place. Last, a two inch ball gag with chin strap. She had forced it deep into his mouth and the buckle bit into the back of his head, whilst the chin strap was so tight that his mouth was forced down around the ball. She had taken particular delight in applying it, moments after a long lingering kiss that had left him wanting so much more. That had been two hours ago; in the interim he had heard her running a bath, soft music a gentle background embrace. One or twice he had heard her on the phone to friends, discussing the normal and the mundane, no indication as to what she done to her husband. Tonight was the culmination of several months since he had learned of her love of bondage and control. To her it was about the visual and the psychological. She had opened up and spoken at length about the sense of empowerment she experienced when he gave himself over to her. For his part she was the answer to every fantasy he had ever dared flirt with, a living manifestation of a women he feared would only exist in his mind. Only he had been wrong; she was the dominatrix he had longed for during those years alone.

The door was suddenly pushed open and she was stood in the open space, arms on her hips, a lacy black knee length nightgown hugging her beautiful, perfectly toned figure. He could see her nipples stiff through the material, and as she sauntered towards him the scent of her perfume caused him to harden all the more. She came to within a foot of the chair, and in a fluid motion raised a single leg to rest a nylon foot perilously close to his balls. The nightgown parted at the thigh and her stockinged leg was visible. Her hands moved over her sheer nylons in a slow, sultry fashion, running from her thigh down to her knee, and then back again until the brushed the clasp of her front suspenders.

"We match" she observed teasingly, indicating towards the nylons she had clad him in at the start of the evening. She could see his chest rise and fall in a clearly breathless anticipation, in response to which she slipped her stockinged foot underneath his balls whilst slowly moving her toes.

"We're going to play a game. It's simple and the rules are very clear. In a few moments I'm going to straddle your cock and fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Only there's a catch. You're not allowed to climax; only I get that privilege. In fact, if you shoot your load inside me I'm not going to untie you; you get to stay put and think about the error of your ways. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

His initial look betrayed his utter disbelief, and his eyes pleaded with her to see sense. What she was asking of him wasn't possible, not after he'd been hard for so long, desperate for her touch for so long. He made a pleading sound but the gag was too good, and what came out caused the merest smile to dance across her sultry face.

"You were born to wear that thing," she observed mockingly, reaching forward to place her hands on the back of the chair each side of his shoulder.

"All you have to do is play by the rules and you'll be free in no time," she whispered gently. And then she was draping herself around him, her perfume overwhelming, her breasts brushing against his cheeks. Her womanhood parted with astonishing ease as she straddled him, proof positive that she was fully invested in the game. Within moments she was gasping, riding him powerfully and robustly. She fixed her deep brown eyes upon his helpless countenance and they were already glassy and lost in sexual rapture. He could already feel his manhood beginning to lose control, and he writhed and bucked against her attention, shaking his head in a futile attempt to make her pause, or at least slow; anything to give him at least half a chance. Only she took his protests as a cue to accelerate her own rhythm, and it was clear in that instance that an enormous climax was seconds away. Her grip around him tightened, by which time he was protesting helplessly into the gag, his own ejaculation explosively imminent, and act that forfeit in chance he had of release. 

Together they climaxed, his body straining against the bondage to achieve the utmost pleasure. Their bodies convulsed and shuddered, only as the waters of delirium calmed he sensed that his crossing of the line would result in something  that no longer appealed to him at all. She slumped forward around his torso, her breathing gradually settling. He could feel her stroking his hair, her fingers tracing the strap of his gag until they reached the buckle at the rear. He half hoped that she would remove it; without the distraction of a fully loaded erection it was now a device of pain more than pleasure. She took a luxuriant breath and drew her head back, her nose just touching his, her eyes locked into his gaze. Her stare was fixed and growing increasingly  clear, the delights of orgasm subsiding, giving way to a sense of all over wellbeing.

She cupped a hand under his chin, lifted his head slightly. "You didn't do as I asked," she observed. "The rules of the game were simple and you broke them. I can't let you go right now"

At once he made muffled protests. He wasn't feeling remotely aroused any more, his bondage now a prison around him, tight and compelling and restrictive.

"Shush now, boy. I keep my promises. And I promised to myself,that if you shot your load before I said you could then I was going to keep you trussed up. I'm doing this for me, by the way. I enjoy the control, of having you trussed up even when you want me to let you go. I won't do that, baby. That's not me being in control. That's you in charge, and I don't want that."

She lifted herself from him, watching him struggle against the ropes. A dribble of saliva was dribbling from around the base of the gag, and in a moment of pity she leaned forward and pressed her breast against his mouth, absorbing it against her skin. And then she was turning, adjusting her night gown and heading back through the door which she closed without uttering a word.

The minutes that followed were awful for him. He felt utterly ridiculous now that his libido had been appeased. He was trussed up, ball gagged, and modelling a pair of black stockings, his limp cock resting flaccid on the chair.

God the gag was hurting, and the ropes felt so tight and unwieldy. Perhaps this was true helplessness he was experiencing now, reluctant bondage rather than consensual. No topping from the bottom here.

The minutes passed slowly, no trace of libido returning to him. Now he was a mere captive, an incapacitated and humiliated male truly subject to the whims of another. He toyed with the idea of calling out, but he knew full well that for her the control was every bit as intoxicating as the sex itself. She had a mundane job, male bosses who didn't always treat her with respect. And now he was her outlet.

An hour passed. He heard the television on, the kettle boiling, the phone ring once or twice. And then another sound, a low buzzing that persisted for several minutes, towards the end accompanied by the sounds of heavy breathing. The bitch was playing with the hitachi, pleasuring herself whilst he was captive in the room next door.

Talking of doors, a few minutes later the one facing him swung open again and she was before him. Hands upon her hips once more, imperious in the door frame. She had re-applied her make up and done her hair, and the same nightgown and stockings were still adorning her. The first flickers of an erection surfaced, his previously limp cock just lifting from the surface of the chair. Instead of approaching him this time she circled around the back, and to his immense relief he felt her undoing the buckles of the gag. She unfastened the chin strap also, and with a real gentleness she removed the contraption from his head. She used her gown to dry the ball before draping it over the rear of the chair. He knew better than to speak to her before she gave a prompt, and sat in silence as she massaged his aching jaw. After a minute or two she asked him to kiss her breasts, moving to straddle him once again. They was no immense erection to greet her on this occasion, although its return would not be long. To begin with he kissed her gently, licking the nipples with occasional flicks of his tongue, nuzzling them and feeling them hard inside his mouth. Without warning she pulled his head towards her and before he could gather his poise he was being smothered, her soft breasts smeared around his features, so close that he could feel her heartbeat through her chest. He was hardening now, and also begin to suffocate somewhat. She kept him smothered until he began to show signs of discomfort before allowing his head to go free.

Her smile said it all. She was loving the power exchange. Her hands went to his nylon covered legs, gently moving over his calves and knee, sliding over him with sublime ease.

"I love you in stockings," she confessed, continuing to delight in his attire. "Next time we go out I've got some tights for beneath your trousers. Thought that might be a good way to keep you off balance"

Upon hearing that he hardened suddenly, and before he knew it he was inside her again, her warmth and wetness incredible and welcoming. She began to writhe and pleasure herself once again, gripping him by his upper legs, his glistening sweaty torso rising and falling once more.

"A new game, my love. I want you to look into my eyes right up until to peak. Look straight at me, lose yourself in me. If you can do this then once you cum you'll be free for the rest of day"

He nodded vigorously, and the game ensued, the two of them locked in an erotic stare as they moved through the gears of sexual pleasure. She moved powerfully and wonderfully, whilst he did all he could given the severity of his restraints. Together their feelings intensified, this scenario the epitome of love bondage. This was no simple role play, this was lovers giving full expression to their inmost desires. They journeyed together, locked in one continuous gaze until the moment came when they peaked simultaneously, bucking and writhing, at which point he finally threw back his head.

The moments that followed were deep, intimate, spiritual almost. Once again she embraced him, nuzzling into his sweat glistened neck as they both regained their composure. Finally he noticed her reaching over his shoulder, and he heard the clink of her locating the gag. At that point he thought nothing of it, and only developed concern when she took both ends of the straps and paraded it teasingly before him. She was silent, mysterious. Was she putting on some kind of show. Eventually he had to say something.

"I don't understand? I played by the rules?"

He tried to decipher her expression, which was ambiguous to say the least. After a few moments she saw her slowly shaking her head.

"You broke eye contact with me, darling. As you peaked. Before you'd finished. That's not playing by the rules. And if you don't play by the rules you need to learn the hard way."

He started to shake his head, mortified at the prospect of being silenced once again. It would be hours before he could muster another erection; surely she wasn't about to subject him to further punishment?

"Please. Not this time. I've got nothing more to give"

"I am going to gag you. I have to gag you. I've really no choice"

"You have. Please. I love you but-"

And those were his final words. The ball was pushed into his mouth with a firmness that matched the convictions of the one applying it, the straps fed through and a savage tug used to force it back as deeply as it had been before. The buckle was secured, and then the chin strap was fed through, an extravagant yank bringing his jaw together, his mouth tight around the hard rubber.

And so it came to pass that he spent the rest of the night in that room. Bound, gagged, and clad in sheer stockings. Humiliated, defeated, and spent.