SBMasterX has left a new comment on your post "Taste":Thus, I present to you the results of that challenge. First, the picture:
That's so sexy. Ok, here's a challenge/suggestion: now write it as if it were a master instead of a mistress... and find a complementary photo as well.
Now, the accompanying story. I was not sure if Master X was asking that the submissive be a man, woman, tv, etc. I'm writing it from the perspective of a sissy, but could easily do it from any gender.
He'd been sitting patiently in the straight backed chair in the corner of the living room for several hours. Not that he had much choice in the matter, given the cuffs encircling his wrists and ankles, all attached to the chair itself. He made quite the amusing picture, depending on one's point of view, dressed up in lingerie--a garter belt and stockings, panties and a bra, a slip, all in black with white lace trim--heels, a wig.
While some men would be cartoonish so attired, his slight frame, his smooth hairless skin, together with the wig, the carefully applied makeup, made him look not garish, but actually quite pretty.
"Pretty," the other thought to himself walking into the living room, looking at the prey captured before him.
Though the bound creature was grown, in his mid thirties, even wearing "normal" clothing, he looked boyish, young, innocent, succulent. Wearing women's clothes, he was feminine entirely.
When the man entered the living room, the feminine creature looked up, eyes widening, the hunger evident.
"You know where I've been, don't you," he asked the bound beauty.
"Yes," the svelte creature whispered, looking down, almost ashamed.
"You fear me?"
"A little," he said, avoiding the man's piercing blue eyes.
"So did she. At first. It isn't surprising, given what she's used to," he said, eying the feminized form tied to the chair. "Her fear didn't last though, how could it?"
Without another word, he reached for his waist and peeled his tight white tee shirt over his head, revealing his chest. He was smooth, hairless, like the sissy, though completely different. His chest was muscular, strong, in every way masculine. He was chiseled, hard, taut.
He looked at his prey looking at him. "She looked at me the same way, you know."
The feminine creature blushed at the thought, blushed imagining the rush his wife must have felt at the site of that chest.
"She wanted to touch it, to kiss it, to nuzzle it. You must understand, don't you? How badly she must have missed touching a man?"
"I..." He felt the shame, the taunt. His wife missed a man because for three years she'd been only with him.
The man walked across the room, his bare feet silent on the wood floor., until he stood right before him. "It's so ironic. I don't know who's look of desire was stronger. Yours or your wife's. Have you ever touched a man before?"
"No," he whispered softly, voice trembling.
"You've fantasized about it."
He could not tear his eyes away from the man's muscular stomach.
"She told. When she was unbuttoning my pants, kissing my stomach, she looked up at me, told me that what you've fantasized about."
His eyes went wide. How could she? How could she betray him like that? His own wife?
The man slowly unbuttoned his jeans, gently opened them so slightly.
"Was she wrong? Should I stop?"
"I..." His eyes had not left the top of the triangle formed by the fabric of the man's jeans. He realized that he wasn't, could not be, wearing underwear.
"Should I stop, sissy?"
"No," he whispered, barely audible.
"She didn't want me to stop, either," the man answered in return. "She wanted it as badly as you do."
"I...don't..." He could not continue his protest, not with the man standing in front of him, carefully lowering his jeans, not with the erect cock jumping in front of his face.
"That's what I though...sissy. You want it just as badly, don't you?"
"Please," he begged, eyes focused on the man's cock.
"She's all over it, you know."
At that, the beautiful bound creature looked up at the naked man standing before him, looked him in the eyes, breath rushing in and out.
"Your wife's scent, her taste, is all over me, all over it."
In a way the words he used were more erotic for their lack of vulgarity, but the meaning was the same. He was telling the pretty boy, telling the bound sissy, telling him, "I fucked your wife."
"That's her gift to you, today, her treat."
He looked back down at the large cock, inches from his face. He could smell her, the unmistakable scent of his wife.
"Open your mouth, sissy, open, taste, taste, taste..."
So, was I successful?