The Butler

The Butler

1. Arrival

We were heading for the Maldives. As a rare treat, we'd planned a whole week to ourselves, in a luxury villa and were well ready to be pampered and to relax. We'd both had a very busy and stressful period at work.

I'd been particularly keen to stay in a water villa. It had looked fantastic on the internet, on stilts just above the water level, over a coral reef. And it looked out over a sea that was unbelievably blue-green. The photos showed a large glass panel in the floor of the villa, just at the end of the bed; a window down into the watery world of corals and fish.

At check-in, the resort proved to be just as quiet and luxurious as it had seemed. That wasn't always the way. Maybe once upon a time the camera never lied, but today’s marketing images often did. Not this time though. We were escorted swiftly to the villa, reached by way of a short ‘gang plank’ from the jetty that connected a short row of only five water villas to the beach. Ours was on the left hand end, well separated from the next and oriented so as to be completely private, even if you were sunbathing on the large deck on the ocean side. And there was indeed a large window in the floor, and there were fish swimming past just below. Amazing.

We started settling in, unpacking in haste so as to get into the water to experience the warmth and see the corals and fish close up. Although a whole week stretched ahead of us, that first plunge in the water would feel very special. We raced each other to the bottom of the stairs that descended from the large deck into the sea. It was a kaleidoscopic wonderland under the water. So many species of fish of so many shapes, sizes and colours... all in constant movement. Corals, anemones, clown fish in the anemones, starfish, even an eel. We swam for ages, taking in the David Attenborough scenes beneath them and luxuriating in the balmy water as it caressed our skin. This is just what we'd signed up for.

As we swam, I positioned myself to be able to see her swimming.  I watched as she turned, floated, and paddled off again, against the coral backdrop, marvelling at how good she looked. She had long, lean legs anyway, but with flippers on they were longer still. And she was so athletic when she kicked, turned and gyrated, chasing fish and simply enjoying the feel of the warm water. I felt a stirring in my crotch as I watched her, and was pleased with this involuntary demonstration that I found her so attractive - not just attractive, but alluring and stimulating too - even after several years together.

We eventually tired of swimming and headed back to the villa. We showered, and I headed for the swing chair on the deck with a book. I'd not read a novel for such a long time; years probably and I wondered if the three novels I'd brought would last the week. That would depend on how much time we spent doing other things, I though. Making love, for example, and pleasuring each other. For the time being, though, I had to be satisfied with a book, because she’d explained that she had some emails still to do and wanted to get them out of the way. She got dressed and headed off for the reception office to buy some internet connection. She said she had about an hour of work to do, one-and-a-half at the most; leftovers from clients she’d seen earlier in the week. She’d clear the decks now and be back as quickly as possible; maybe for an afternoon nap? On an "afternoon delight"!

2. Meeting the Butler

I took off my white shower robe and lay naked in the swing chair on the deck, rocking gently in the slight breeze. I was not finding the book absorbing, and my mind kept wandering off into thoughts of how lucky we were to have a whole week ahead of us, what we might do, how sexy she looked in the water, and how private the villa was. After a while, it started to get hot and steamy on the deck, so I moved inside and turned on the ceiling fan in the bedroom. I pulled back the covers from the huge bed, throwing them onto the cane armchair in the corner of the room. Propped up on the generous pillows, I could see an enormous expanse of ocean through the doorway. With the bi-fold doors pushed right back, it was as if the bedroom itself was a boat on the ocean. The lapping sound of water against the pilings seeming very close indeed and I closed my eyes and let my senses absorb the sound and smell of the sea, and my naked body feel the warm breeze above and the crisp smoothness of the sheet beneath.

The stress and tension of the previous few weeks were disappearing rapidly. It was as if the new sensations were filling my whole mind and body, leaving no room at all for thinking, let alone worrying. Little gusts of warm wind were stirring the hairs on my chest every now and then, and I found myself imagining that the periodic puffs of warm air on my flaccid penis and distended scrotum were the exhaled breaths of my lover, her open mouth hovering just a few centimeters away from them. In this sort of relaxed state, imaginings can seem very real, and I felt my balls starting to stir in response, and my dick was swelling and rising towards her lips. I let my fingers trail across my chest, encircling my nipples and teasing them. The touch, and probably the thought too, produced little electric shocks that travelled to the tip of my dick, which seemed to accelerate the flow of blood and strengthen my growing erection. I licked my fingers and continued to stimulate my nipples, enjoying the feel of them against my fingertips as they hardened in response to the touch and to the cooling effect of evaporation.

I was getting deeper into relaxation, as my brain disconnected from conscious thought and was just starting make real the subconscious imagining of her breath on my erection, when a different sound intruded from the room behind the bedroom. It was the click of the latch, followed by soft footsteps. Bare feet. I froze. Held my breath. There was someone in the villa. Surely it was too soon for my lover to be back already – an hour, she’d said, at least. I turned my head towards the door to see a strange woman standing there quite unconcerned, surveying my naked body.

“Who are you?” I exclaimed, “And what are you doing here?”. I looked around frantically for where I'd thrown the sheets, in the hopes of regaining some modesty, my erection instantly collapsing.

“I'm your butler,” she responded. She was wearing what might be described as yoga tights on her long, shapely legs, with a long-sleeved white blouse partly covered by a well-tailored silk waistcoat, tied tightly at the waist to accentuate her bust. “I'm here to make your stay pleasurable, to do your bidding,” she added. “Anything you want, just ask me.”

Rooted to the spot, I just sat there on the bed with my hands modestly covering my crotch. “I... I didn't know we had a butler,” I finally blurted out.

“Oh yes… you do,” she replied. “You booked the deluxe package and that comes with a butler. I just met your partner on the way to reception. She sent me here to see if there is anything you need. Or something you might … want.” She seemed to pause deliberately after ‘might’ and emphasise the word ‘want’, highlighting the distinction between need and want. Very provocative. Or was it my imagination?

“Is there anything? Or should I just leave you alone?”

I came to my senses, but I wasn't exactly comfortable, sitting naked on the bed with a strange woman in the room. I found my voice at last: “How about a massage?”

“Of course, sir," she replied, as if this sort of thing happened to her every day. She rummaged in a cupboard, seeming to know already what she was looking for, and emerged with a pump-action container of massage oil, some scented candles and a soft, fluffy towel. She lit the candles, unrolled the towel on the bed next to me, and instructed: “Turn over please, on to the towel.”

I was relieved to be turning over, because that would hide the sticky spots of honey now drying on my inner thighs, the product of my earlier fantasy. As I arranged myself on the towel, the butler seized my ankles firmly and spread my legs apart, in a no-nonsense sort of way. She deftly applied the oil and started the massage on my shoulders. I groaned, quietly I hoped, as she kneaded the muscles around my shoulder blades and at the base of my neck.

She progressed to long strokes from my shoulders to my bum, kneading my glutes at the end of each stroke. Then she moved round to my feet, and continued where she'd left off, this time starting by kneading my glutes, and then sliding the fingers of both hands down my crack, causing me to jump as they quickly trailed across my anus, down along my perineum and across the sensitive back of my scrotum, which instantly contracted to the touch. Could this be accidental? No! Surely it was deliberate. 

She started kneading again, with firm pressure on the insides of my upper thighs. The puffs of warm breeze were cooling my back and wafting over the hairs on my shoulders. The repetition of the butler's work on my bum and legs, the same as before, was getting me very stimulated indeed. I decided just to treat the intrusion into my erogenous zones as an accident and wait to see what happened next. It didn’t take long to find out. 

3. The Butler Performs

I shifted my hips a bit from side to side, to accommodate the growing erection trapped between my belly and the towel. After a couple more strokes, she stopped and said: “Turn over now sir.” And then an exclamation, “Oh my!” as my erection was revealed. “You seem to be enjoying the massage”, she said with a mischievous smile. “What else do you like?”

“Anything” I responded with a dry mouth. “Do whatever you normally do; it’s all wonderful.”

“No, that's not the way it works,” she retorted. “You have to tell me exactly what you want. That's what a butler does, you see… just what she's told. This is all about you, sir. And I’m very discrete. You can tell me your innermost, secret desires. The ones you won’t even tell your partner.”

I paused to think for a bit, finding this a bit confronting. I swallowed and licked my lips absentmindedly. "OK. Here's what I want. I want you to tie my arms and legs and then I'll tell you what I want you to do next. You'll find some soft ropes in the bedside table; second drawer down.”

I had brought the satin ropes with some vague plan of an afternoon delight with my lover, never imagining they might be being used by a stranger to tie me up! Propped up on two pillows, I spread my arms along headboard. Obligingly, she tied my wrists to the bed, and then spread-eagled me to tie my ankles to the legs of the bed. I could see my erection standing up like a mast, with the whole expanse of the Indian Ocean behind it. I tugged at the tethers to see how secure they were. I was firmly restrained alright. I wondered whether she'd done this sort of thing before. Could ropes and knots be part of the butler training program at the resort?

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now put on a blindfold. It's in the bedside table on the other side. I want to watch you, but I don't want you being distracted.”

She moved around the bed to the bedside table, surveying my stretched out body and looking pointedly at my rigid 'mast'. “Look what else I found in here,” she exclaimed with a lascivious smile, holding up a vibrator that had been in the drawer alongside the blindfold. I'd forgotten all about that. I could feel my face flushing, and mumbled something about her not being meant to have seen that. I recovered my composure quickly, though, and ordered: “Now go to the end of the bed. Between me and the sea. Sit on that padded bench and put on the blindfold.” She obediently did as asked.

“Now caress yourself," I said. "Stroke those long, long legs of yours across your tights. Trace all your curves.”

Again she did as bidden, and I watched intently, getting added pleasure when it became obvious that she was enjoying the sensation of her own touch. She was stroking her thighs, from her knees up to her hips, every now and then cupping one hand or the other over her pubic mound, which was somehow accentuated by the tight lycra-like material of the leggings. She seemed to be shimmering, and I realised that beams of light from the ripples on the water beneath were reflecting up through the glass panel in the floor and dancing along her legs. I'll bet they hadn't thought about that when they took the marketing photos of the water villas! I could feel more seepage from the end of my cock, as my erection grew still firmer.

Apparently immersed in her own thoughts and feelings and unaware of my gaze, she felt around on the bench and picked up the little vibrator and pressed the button on the end, which started a low hum. Using the vibrator instead of her fingers, she retraced the path her hands had taken a few moments before, finishing up circling it over and around her mound and slipping it between her legs. She shuddered slightly, and then crossed her legs over the vibrator, tightly squeezing her thighs together. She started rocking slightly, leaning back on the stool, propped on her arms with her head tilted back. She moaned, making my erection twitch and strain in instant response.

“Wait! Not yet,” I said. “Take off your tights.” She retrieved the vibrator and stood up, still with the blindfold on. Then she turned so her back was to me, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her tights and slid them quickly down in a single movement, bending over provocatively from the waist and parting her legs a little, so as to give me a glimpse of her vulva, for just a split second. She kicked the tights off her feet and turned back to face me, now naked from the waist down. She was shaved - completely smooth and hairless. That was very, very sexy; both the look of it, and the fact that she had done it. A woman who knows, and does, what she wants – and is willing to show it. I find that sexy.

“Now your blouse.”

Slowly and deliberately she started unbuttoning her waistcoat, letting it drop to the floor, and then unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra, letting it drop too. I watched, transfixed; literally!

“Wait. Now put your waistcoat back on.” The waistcoat accentuated her curves and the two v-shaped front tails of the garment framed her pubic mound, highlighting it: beautifully symmetrical and very stimulating. She sat back down, facing squarely towards me this time. She parted her legs slowly and deliberately, exposing her sex to me. I found the view almost unbearably stimulating. In the foreground I could see my erect nipples protruding from the mat of hairs on my chest; then behind them was my twitching erection, the head of my cock tinged with purple and shiny with drips of honey-like pre-cum; then past that I could see her exposed inner thighs and dark, swollen labia, parting just slightly to reveal pink, shiny, moist skin and the head of her clitoris. Further away still was the wide outdoors, with a sparkling sea stretching from a pair of colourful, nearby snorkelers all the way to the horizon. Fleetingly I wondered if the snorkelers would see this erotic picture in reverse, if they were to look this way.

“Now go back to stroking yourself,” I ordered, “with the massage oil.” She felt around with her hands and located the bottle of oil, squeezing some into one hand and rubbing her hands together. She continued where she had left off when she was clothed, but this time she was fully exposed, with her legs akimbo. She leaned forwards, towards me, grasping her ankles - one with each hand - then sliding her hands up the inside of her calves, past her knees and along the inside of her thighs, leaning further and further backwards as her hands progressed. I could see the shiny trail of oil left behind on her legs by each hand. She stopped when her hands reached her crotch, but seemed to continue the pressure, squeezing her lips together with her fingers, trapping her clitoris firmly beneath them and letting out a long, low moan of pleasure as the sensations captured her.

I was beside myself. The intimacy created by the complete exposure of her full- frontal posture, combined with the obvious stimulation she was creating for herself, was overwhelming. “Do that again,” I asked hoarsely. “That’s fantastic.” She didn't need to be asked twice, releasing the hold on her crotch and leaning forwards once again as she slid her hands back down the inside of her thighs, past her knees and down her calves. As she did this, she opened her legs wider apart to reveal her swollen labia and the shiny, pink folds within. She repeated the slow stroking movement, once again ending up leaning backwards, her hands squeezing together and trapping her labia tightly together. She continued the pressure, pushing her labia inwards and together with her long fingers until her now swollen clitoris slid out into view. She shuddered, and moaned once again… a little louder this time, and more drawn out.

“Now I’m going to watch you come,” I said hoarsely. My cock was aching. I could not take his eyes off her hands as they moved over her legs, but own erection was always in the foreground. And I was all too aware of the warm, swelling, tingling sensations in my cock and the contracting, twitching feelings deep inside, emanating from somewhere behind the base of my scrotum. “Perhaps that’s the male G-spot,” I thought during a contraction that seemed to happen in response to her second moan. These internal sensations were causing visible movements of my cock and churning of his balls inside my scrotum. I focussed on a trail of warm, honey-like liquid oozing out over the shiny head of my penis and starting to drip down the shaft.

She picked up the vibrator again and turned it on. She lay right back on the padded bench, feet still on the floor, legs apart, and ripples of light from through the glass panel catching the trails of massage oil left on her calves and thighs. By moving my head a little to one side, I lined up the tip of my erection with her clitoris. “Oh my god, that would make a mind-blowing photograph,” I thought, and groaned. I watched, breathless, as seemingly disembodied hands moved across her labia and encircled her clitoris, one holding the vibrator and the other touching, exploring, spreading, pressing and flicking - apparently separate yet working together, interdependent… true counterpoint.

I sensed her tensing with a build-up towards orgasm. As I watched her fingers moving faster and the muscles clenching in her thighs and belly, I could feel even more blood flowing into my own genitals, and more twitching deep in my bum. I so needed to come. I was pulling at the ropes on my wrists, trying to free my hands to grab my own cock and bring myself off. She started moaning and shuddering, and took the vibrator away from alongside her clitoris. At the moist, swollen opening to her vagina, I could clearly see a rhythmic pulsation. At first quick and strong, and then slowing and weakening. She exhaled and shuddered, and he realised that she’d been holding her breath as the orgasm built up. I was rocking my hips from side to side, trying to agitate my cock sufficiently to reach orgasm, but only managing to flick web-like trails of pre-cum on to my belly and the sheet beside me.

4. Stranded by the Butler

After a few moments of recovery, she sat up. Taking off her blindfold, she screwed up her eyes, squinting at the brightness in the room. She surveyed the scene before her, with a long look at my still-straining erection. “You're really dripping!” she exclaimed. “Oh you are so ready to come.”

“I am. Over-ready. Come over here, butler, and put your mouth around my cock. Now! Urgently! Touch me, grab my cock.” I was imploring, almost begging. “Please... you said the butler has to do what she's told. Do it now!”

She smiled in response. Though I fleetingly detected a sense of pity in her smile, I readied myself for the feel of her lips around the swollen head of my cock, the sensation of her tongue flicking at my frenum and sliding down the shaft.

“Oh no sir,” she replied. “I am the butler, that’s true, but I’m not a prostitute. I draw the line at performing sexual favours. We are not allowed to pleasure the customers. Only massage, and not ‘sexy massage’ either! So, is there anything else I can do for you sir, before I go?”

My erection was starting to recede but I still needed to come so badly. “Yes… untie me,” I said...  “Please?"

I watched as she pulled her leggings back on, unbuttoned the waistcoat and replaced her bra and blouse, then put the butler waistcoat back on, tugging here and there to make herself look neat and respectable. She put the vibrator, blindfold and oil back in their respective drawers, and walked over to the mirror to straighten her hair. Only then did she turn to look at me again, still spread-eagled on the bed. 

She smiled again. “Just ring that bell if you need anything else sir. At any time.”

“I will,” I said, “but you need to untie me before you go.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, obviously I can’t reach the bell like this." And then came the dreadful realisation that, if she left me like this, my lover could come back and find me like this. How could I possibly explain it? 

She just smiled again, blew me a kiss, and let herself out.

5. Experiencing Restraint

Now I started to struggle seriously with the knots holding my wrists and ankles. To no avail. She’s done an expert job; very secure but not constricting. There was nothing for it but to wait until someone came to release me. I had mixed feelings about whether it would be better if a cleaner or my lover arrived first. Maybe the cleaner, I concluded, or room service checking the bar fridge.

Seemed an age before the door to the villa opened, to the accompaniment of the cheerful call of “I’m back honey!” It wasn’t room service then!

My hearth thumping, I tried to think of a plausible explanation as I listened to her kicking off her shoes. I called out: “Come in here, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

She walked in, curious about the surprise. It was obviously a surprise! “Well, well, well. What's been going on here?” she exclaimed, surveying the scene: her lover tied up to the bed naked, oiled all over, and with strings of honey draped from his flaccid penis to his stomach and thighs. "I've often fantasised about tying you up and having my way with you. How did you know? And how did you manage to tie yourself up like that?”

“The butler did it,” I said, with an attempt at humour. “Untie me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I don't care who did it," she retorted. But I'm not untying you. Not yet, anyway. I think I like you in a helpless position.”

She paused to ponder, then continued: “There’s a lot I could do with this situation. I could go and get the camera; or I could leap on you and have my way with you; or I could have my way with myself and make you watch; or perhaps I could call for room service and have them bring me snacks and cocktails – sex-on-the-beach would be appropriate, don't you think? Or I might just go for another swim and leave you to the mercy of whoever comes in next!”

I found the thought of at least some of these possibilities stimulating and my cock started to recover some of its former stature.

“I have an idea,” she continued, and then added, somewhat superfluously: “You just wait there while I prepare myself”. She disappeared off to the bathroom and returned with my razor and an aerosol can of shaving cream that I'd souvenired from my last business class flight. And a steaming wet flannel, which she used to dampen my pubic area.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Wait and see,” she responded. Then she started applying the shaving cream, watching it bubble up and expand, and then tantalising me by working it thoroughly in to my pubic hair and the surrounding skin, adding a couple of dollops of cream to the swelling tip of my cock, just for effect, and then rubbing it in down the shaft.

She stood back to review her handiwork. “Not bad,” she concluded. “Now for the difficult part. And don’t you struggle or distract me. It could have painful consequences!” Then she started shaving, working systematically downwards from my tan line right to the base of my cock. She shaved a large triangle, right across my front, the exact shape and size of my swimmers. Then she moved to the side, and started working, carefully thank goodness, on my scrotum. Trembling a little, perhaps nervous about drawing blood, she pinched and held one part of my scrotum tight before shaving it and then moving on the next bit. Finally, she cupped my smooth, hairless scrotum in one hand, pulling it up while she carefully shaved my perineum – right down as far as she could reach between my spreadeagled legs. With frequent rinsing of the razor, and reapplication of shaving cream, she was finished in about ten minutes. She went off to the bathroom again and came back with the rinsed out flannel to wipe off all the remaining foam. “Wow!” she said. “That looks a bit different. You could almost go skinny-dipping and people will think you have white cozzies!”

“Now, you don’t want to get shaving rash, do you,” she stated, walking over to the cupboard to get the massage oil. She applied it liberally around the shaved area and worked it in to the reddening skin, making frequent detours to slide her oiled hands up and down my erection and over my scrotum right down between my legs to my anus. A now familiar sensation for me! Then she continued massaging oil into my thighs, belly and chest.

Again she stood back to view her work, and was clearly impressed! “Now, what am I going to do with my creation?” she asked. It was a rhetorical question, as she cut short my response even before it was properly framed: “No. You be quiet and just watch.”

She walked over to the sound system to turn on some music, then dragged the padded bench out of the way, and stood right in the middle of the glass panel in the floor, with nothing but the sea beneath her. She started to move to the music, stripping her clothes off slowly and provocatively.  My erection was swollen tight once again, this time emerging from a white undulating plain of flesh rather than from a pubic forest. I was once again seeping pre-cum, with my eyes fixed on her body and her movements. She flicked her knickers over towards me, landing them right on my chest.

Apparently pleased with the reaction she was getting from my cock, she continued with the titillation. Still gyrating to the music, she started oiling herself with the massage oil; breasts, belly, thighs. And then between her legs. She kept her eyes fixed on mine, ensuring that I was watching where her hands were going and that I was noticing how much she was enjoying her own touching, stroking and gyrating. I was noticing!

She stopped gyrating, and crawled, cat-like, up the bed over me, lowering her hot, oily, sweaty body down on to mine, ever so slowly, trapping my now rock-hard cock between our bellies. I shuddered with the whole-body sensation of warmth, smoothness and oiliness. She slid and wriggled her body up and down on mine, trapping my cock first against her belly, and then against her sex, as she slid up my body to press her oiled breasts to my face. It was an intense, intimate but very unfamiliar feeling, skin to skin with no pubic hair between. I shuddered as I could felt my cock spring up into the gap between her legs and nuzzle her perineum and into the entrance to her vagina. She started to push downwards so that I would slide into her, and God did I want that. I pushed my hips upwards as far as I could, but she pulled away. It seemed she had other plans.

I was moaning and breathing heavily, and I could feel from my flushed face and twitching in my cock that I was close to coming. Perhaps she could tell too. She knelt up again, disengaging stickily from my body. She bent her head down to kiss me long and hard on the mouth, flicking her tongue over my lips and then delving deep inside, exploring the roof of my mouth and my tongue, hungrily probing as if her tongue was a cock and she was fucking my mouth with long, deep, urgent strokes. I closed my eyes, and hungrily immersed myself in the same metaphor. My groans no doubt revealed that I was willingly getting off on it. 

She broke off from tongue-fucking me, and turned her attention to my nipples. I have incredibly responsive nipples, she says, more than other men she'd been with. I'm sure that their sensitivity and responsiveness developed only when I met her, which was entirely possible because we have real chemistry; stronger than either of us had experienced ever before. In any case, her licking, flicking and pinching of my nipples caused them to tighten instantly in little erections. In the right state of mind, this sort of nipple stimulation puts me into a trance-like state, where my brain seems to disconnect from external sensations and focusses solely on the little electric shock waves travelling from my nipples to the tip of my cock. I've sometimes wondered if I could reach an orgasm solely from nipple stimulation. If it were possible at all, now was surely the time!

She knelt on the bed beside my chest, and started encircling a nipple with her thumb and the tip of her forefinger. It hardened still more, and I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply. This was better than hypnosis. If the volume of clear honey oozing from my cock was any indication, I was already having a nipple-induced orgasm. She continued trailing her finger backwards and forwards over the tip of my nipple, then back around the areola. She moaned slightly, suggesting that my response was stimulating for her too. I was by now completely unaware of what she was actually doing with her fingers, which were stimulating both nipples; encircling them, flicking the tips gently and rapidly, then pinching quite hard and pulling.

I was now deep inside a fantasy, imagining her sitting astride my cock, sliding slowly up to the tip and then down again to taken the full length of me. I was not just imagining this, but actually feeling the sensations of it. It was real. Every time she rose to the end of my cock, and her sphincter slipped past the ridge, I could feel the sensation of ‘oh no… don’t get off – take me back in!’ And then I got the enveloping feeling of swelling, warmth and arousal as she slid back down. Each time she did it, I could feel more of a build-up starting somewhere deep beside my prostate, causing even more pressure behind my erection.

It was almost as if I were outside my own body looking down on myself. I could see my breathing slowing just as I could feel my pulse quickening. The imagined view of her lifting up off me again seemed very real indeed, because it was accompanied by the very strong feelings that her imagined movement created deep within me. As she continued squeezing and pinching my nipples, I could see and feel her lifting up off me again. I could see her engorged labia and clitoris dragging back along the shaft of my penis as they slid up over its bulging veins and bumps. I could actually feel this intensely; millimeter by overwhelming millimeter. Even now, looking back on this experience, I find it difficult to accept that the sensations - both the vision and the intense feelings - accompanying this fantasy were only in my mind, and not real.

I could feel myself sliding out of her, past the tightness of her sphincter, until the head of my penis was nestled just inside the entrance of her vagina. She held still for a moment. I flushed… holding my breath on the very edge of orgasm. My head was swimming, a bit like the feeling a few seconds before going completely under with a general anaesthetic. And I was experiencing a warm, rewarding feeling of little contractions, which were squeezing pre-cum, sperm and seminal fluid into the ejaculation gland. I felt it reach overflowing as it took me past the point of no return. Time stood still and nothing else mattered.

During this couple of seconds, a warm, tingly feeling started spreading throughout my body, causing instant congestion in my nasal passages. I could feel the flushing in my face and chest, an almost painful tightening of my nipples, a swelling sensation in my tongue, and a sudden contraction of my scrotum so that my balls virtually disappeared inside me. Just as I felt her starting to slide back down one last time, her vagina opening to accept me and squeezing me as I entered, a rhythmic pumping started deep inside my body. It was soft and fast at first, almost immediately becoming slow, steady and incredibly powerful for six or seven contractions. They were accompanied by an ecstatic feeling of release as hot semen flooded up through my cock in spurts and erupted out into the air, falling back onto my sensitive, smooth, oiled, naked, white flesh in sticky yellow globs.

6. Remission

She gently untied my wrists and ankles and snuggled down beside me. Slowly my congestion started to clear, my breathing returned to normal, and my penis started losing some of its hardness - still dripping semen with each twitch of the post-orgasmic aftershocks. “How'd you enjoy your butler experience?” she asked?

I turned to face her, smiled broadly and said: “You cannot imagine how I felt when the butler came in, to find me naked on the bed. You really had me there – what a uniform! I was convinced that it really was a butler, until you spoke. Where did you get that waistcoat?” And where did you learn to do erotic massage like that?”

She said: "I planned the butler routine before we came. I was just going to tantalise and arouse you, but soon found it stimulating and somehow liberating for myself - acting as someone else. Then you asking to be tied up was an unexpected turn of events that I had to make the most of. The feeling of being watched while doing something daring, sensual and intimate was exciting. And to know the voyeur was being driven out of his mind with arousal and desire - and unable to do anything about it - was especially stimulating. 

"I thought my butler performance wasn't too bad, if I say so myself. But I think I’d have been too self-conscious to reach my orgasm without the blindfold. Blocking everything out focuses me on my feelings, and allowed me to conjure up a stimulating fantasy to accompany the vibrator.” 

“Oh?” I said. “What was the fantasy?”

“I’m not telling,” she said with a laugh. “That can wait for another time.”

I lay there, still recovering and recalling my orgasm. “You were a great butler, to be sure, but it was even better when you returned as my lover. That was an amazing orgasm you gave me. You were wicked with my nipples and they reacted even more strongly than usual to your touch. One day I’m sure I’ll have a nipple orgasm, but I do love being inside you, and the feeling of you sliding up and down on my cock is indescribably wonderful. There’s nothing like it.”

I ummmed with pleasure and closed my eyes. She closed hers too, and wondered when he would realise, or believe, that he had had a nipple orgasm. And she wondered if she would someday tell him about the fantasy that accompanied her orgasm as a butler. Or perhaps she would have the courage to act it out.

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