The Bowl - Anonymous

Laid out on the floor before me was one of Her best lace tablecloths. In fact, it was the third tablecloth like this that I had seen in the past month. I examined the shiny satiny fabric bunching up around my knees. So clean and white. My eyes followed the flowing landscape of the cloth; beyond my knees it was smooth and pristine. Across from me, dotting the barren desert of satin and lace were two of the most fiery red figures I have ever known. Perhaps they were a mirage, two saviors clad in crimson here to rescue me from my exile in this lacy wasteland. My mind and my eyes began to focus. From above a mix of net and flesh plunged downwards, deep into those triangles of red that covered the toes inside. Her toes. Her crimson red pumps and net stockings. A clinking sound brought me to my full attention. Her deep red fingernails tapped against dark green glass. 

About two glasses of wine sloshed around in the bottle that She held tenderly in Her gorgeous fingers. She said my name. 

“Yes Mistress?,” I replied. 

I felt a lump in my throat and She heard it in my voice. She said my name again and asked if I was nervous.

“No Mistress.”

One of Her elegant feet left the floor and moved towards me; the toe of her shoe nudging the object in my hand. “What do you have there?”, She asked.

“A bowl, My Mistress.”

She continued with questions, “And do you remember what to do with the bowl?”

“Yes My Mistress,” I replied again.

Her red lips cracked a smile. Her smile was wicked and approving all at the same time. Those striking white teeth against those red lips. Red like Her shoes, red like the wine in the bottle. She saw me eyeing the bottle. 

“Don’t you worry about what I’ve got here in my hand just yet,” She said in a comforting voice, “tell me what you’ve got in your other hand.” Her gazed fixed on my right.

My throat felt dry and words were hard to come by, “My man-hood,” I answered.

She said my name again sternly.

“My cock,” I corrected myself for Her.

“That’s better,” She continued approvingly, “You don’t have to be so formal with me.”

I longed to please Her, not only to do as She asked, but to do the impossible for Her. I hoped She wouldn’t see how anxious I was, but I could never hide that from Her. 

“Remember how nervous you were the first time?” She lowered the bottle to my eye level. I heard a slight gasp escape Her lips as the cool glass brushed against the exposed flesh of Her thighs. She teased the open rim of the bottle with Her fingertips. I watched Her fingers slowly moving in circles.

“Now remember, I don’t want to see a drop on this tablecloth,” She began instructing, “You’ve already let two of my good tablecloths be ruined.” 

I hung my head. I cursed myself under my breath. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Now’s your chance to start out with a clean slate,” She motioned towards the satin and lace bunched up around my knees and all around me, “do a good job and you’ll get your reward.”

“Thank You, Mistress.”

I looked up just in time to see Her press the neck of the bottle against Her thigh and drag it slowly back across Her skin. I felt a rush of heat through my body. My muscles tensed. I felt my fingers clench.

“That’s right, go ahead and pump your cock while you watch your mistress,” and then she added with a chuckle, “pump your man-hood.”

I held my shaft over the bowl, my fingers wrapped tightly around it. It’s veins bulged. My eyes were fixated not on myself, but on the wine bottle which pressed hard against Her skin now, moving ever so slowly up the flesh of Her leg. 

“Not a drop,” She reminded from deep within Her throat. 

It had been so long since I had a release, Her pleasure was my only concern, or at least it was suppose to be. I had already failed Her twice. I didn’t want to let her down again. I could already feel a wetness dripping down my knuckles. Before She pressed the mouth of the bottle into Herself, I was ready to cum. 

She was reading my thoughts, “no cumming yet,” She gasped at me as the bottle plunged deeper between Her legs. The trickle of wine began to drip from Her lips and into the bowl. 

I could feel the strain of my cock against my fingers and the weight of the wine filling the bowl. Everything was happening so suddenly. I was not sure where to look. My gaze moved from my cock to the table cloth, to the glorious sight of my Mistress pleasing Herself, the thick neck of the bottle disappearing within Her and the sweet drip of the wine. My gaze found what it was looking for in Her eyes. It was here that I could pay attention to Her pleasure and Her pleasure alone. Her eyes half closed, looking at me, watching me. Her teeth biting into the deep red of her lower lip. 

I started to cum.

Her eyes widened and I could tell Her body was experiencing waves of pleasure of Her own. My Mistress’s pleasure. My heart beat hard for Her. Even though my own body was pulsing with my own pleasure, I knew I had failed. I could feel every last drop of my own leaving my body. But I was so happy for Her, so happy to see Her body tense up as She was hit again and again with Her orgasms. Her breath heavy and sweet in my ears. 

Soon my head hung again, my eyes closed. My failure overwhelmed me. I felt Her gentle fingers in my hair. They were still quivering, but comforting in my hair.

“My boy…. You came”

My eyes tightened. I had failed.

“But look,” she said. She encouraged me to open my eyes. All around me I looked. “See, my boy, not a drop.”

I looked all around me, the table cloth was still clean. Every drop of wine and cum had landed in the bowl. My heart leapt and I looked in Her eyes. She understood my gaze and answered it.

“Go ahead, my boy, time for your reward.”

Breathing heavily I lifted the bowl, I couldn’t help the grin on my face as my lips parted and I drank my reward.