A mostly dark room, illuminated by the city lights permeating through the large window overlooking the city.

A large, almost desolate room, cold air.

Two silhouettes. One on the spacious bed, the larger on the floor.

In the dimly lit room, his skin glowing in the soft light.

With curiosity, the lady looks at her pet.

In a defenseless state. She notices how he shakes when some wind blows in from the slightly ajar door.

A full bladder, and blind bolds on, the pet shivers in anticipation. His hands tied with an inexperienced knot. If he moved it a little, the ties would unfurl.

He could hear her breathe.

They had been in this stalemate for some time now. Neither moving. Rather the lady examining the pet, with much interest, however refusing to give anything away.

"Come here."

Her voice guiding him to the foot of the bed. He can feel the soft sheets. He sits next to her feet. Even with one sitting on the bed, the other on the floor, they appeared to be of the same height. A tiny lady, a tall pet.

There was tension crackling in the air between them, a palpable energy that drew them together like magnets.

He could smell her.

Her usual blend of sandalwood. He wanted so desperately to untie his hands and rummage through the smell.

He felt a hand on his head. A gentle pat. Then another. Then another. She kept petting, till her hands started to play with his hair.

He was in comfortable bliss, her hands running through his hair, her smell engulfing him.

He rested his head on her lap. He was not yet allowed to untie himself.

He heard a chuckle. Her usual singsong voice. It felt slightly dangerous tonight.

He felt it with a jolt. He could melt. He felt so warm inside, he could feel his eyes stinging a little.

Her foot, covered in stockings, was lightly pressing on him, with slow, deliberate motions, in rhythm with her hands on his head. He had a full bladder. Every touch felt like pins and needles.

"Lady." He whimpers.

A playful chuckle resounds in the empty room, as the lady moves her foot away, causing him to whimper again.

"Shush," she whispers next to his ears. "No speaking, no sound." She nibbles at his earlobe. Biting down enough to cause some pain, not enough to draw blood. Her nails, lightly scraping against his skin, Around his abdomen, which on most days would make him laugh, were making his hair stand on end.

The front of his jeans were turning a darker hue.

She curiously watched as the front of his pants was damped with desire.

She really just wanted to eat him alive. Leaving not a morsel left. All hidden in her.

She started kissing the side of his face. Him, jittery more than usual. Pressing her foot on the damp socked part of his pants. She moved her toes. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

His breathing was escalating. Butterfly kisses all on his neck, she was rather fond of that. Always left it a polka-dotted mess.

Her deliberate movements brought his breathing to a steady halt, He could feel her moving closer, slightly closer. Her breath smelled like peaches.

A massive candy was forced into his mouth followed by her tongue. As he was, her foot, still a teasing touch. Pressing on him sometimes, but slow, oh so painfully slow.

The miss liked to kiss. She always enjoyed kissing him. And this was her favorite game. She'd get a large sugar candy and keep kissing him till the sweetness dissolved between them.

She was sitting on his lap now, the candy was astringently sweet, which the miss hated. Yet she deeply enjoyed this common activity. She could spend hours exploring his mouth. He tasted like strawberry milk. He knew she liked the flavor. What a good boy.

She pulled his hair a little. He was losing too much control trying to feel her.

"Bad cub."

"Sit." she whispered. He calmed down. He knew his lady too well. If this didn't go how she wanted, she would leave him in this state and make off, leaving him in despair.

He tried to control his breathing.

His lady put her hands around his neck. He wanted to wrap his hands around her.

Rules were rules.

"Open your mouth".

The candy was still in his mouth. Then joined in her tongue.

She loved to glide her nails over his skin, inside the cotton shirt.

She moved away. as he kissed her neck.

"Place me on the bed," her voice hoarse.

He couldn't focus. His bladder, it had started to hurt.

"Stabilize your breathing, cub."

He knew what a tease his lady was.

He steadied his breathing.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her but stopped short of touching her. The inexperienced knot untied.

"Smart cub."

She hugs him.

"Carry me love."

With a sigh of relief, he engulfs her. Her softness. She was so soft.

She kicks.

"Hurry up, cub."

So stingy he grumbles as he places her on the bed again.

"Sit down."

He sits on the floor again. Her hand on his neck.

She pulls him in.

They kiss; him on the floor, her atop the bed.

His hands on his knees. His lady was so stingy.

His complaints dissolved with the massive candy. It was the size of a golf ball. His lady was truly peculiar.

It could barely fit her marshmallow chicks but she insisted on always using this specific candy.

He had an urge to bite her cheek, and so he did. He was much gentler than his lady, who was often out for blood.

They didn’t know how much time had passed, the air was colder, the night was quieter.

The pet was sweating rivets, trying to hold back his bladder. He was in agonizing pain. Yet the hand playing with his hair was calming. Her foot, relentless. Still, the lady refused to put any more force or speed.

She could see her pet writhing between pain and pleasure. He bit his lips; hard. The little bastard dared to bite down on her cheek. Some punishments were in order.

She scraped her nails along his neck, getting an audible moan from him.

“Beg me.”

“Lady please.”

Oh, the desperation in his voice.

“Here babe.”

She put her hand in his pants.

“Lady…”

Her warm hands explored. They were damp and soft.

She could feel him pulse in her hand. When she kissed him, he would loosen up, and when she moved he instinctively followed her lips. She’d tug at his hair.

She bit on his nape. He groans out in pain.

“My lady.” in protest.

She bites harder. How dare he protest to her. Her foot digging into his warmth.

The numbing pain from his bladder, the sugar, which is still causing his throat to ache, the smell of sandalwood, the warmth of her hands, the coldness of the air, his loins in flames, his urge to touch, the inability to do so without her permission, he was in a state of euphoria.

Hot and cold, all mixing in. The sharp teeth on his neck, the soft hair brushing past his face, the warm hands in his pants.

“Lady.”

“My Lady.”

“My sweet Lady.”

He was a mumbling, breathless mess, calling out, begging her. She took out her hand from inside his pants and cleaned it on his shirt.

She wanted to explore this delectable specimen; he, however, was losing his mind. That would not do. She wanted him present, here with her.

“Cub, listen to me.”

He could hear her voice resonate inside his head.