He knocked again, more insistently, and again I ignored it. I knew what would be going through his mind, and wanted to prolong his agony. Another couple of knocks came and went, and finally I looked throught the fish-eye security window. Ridiculously distorted by the concave surface of the glass, he looked like a gargoyle, the tension on his face multiplied tenfold by the strange, moon-like aspect of his face. He still had his blindfold in place, but I couldn't see his cock.

"Stand back, Mr Loverman."

He did so instantly, taking a step backwards. "And again." He did as he was instructed, and I could see that, indeed, the red ribbon still bedecked his cock. Quite a feat, if he had genuinely accomplished it. Satisfied, I swung the door open and allowed him to enter.

"Did you enjoy that?" I asked.

"No, Miss."

"Oh come, Mr Loverman. Surely you like all the games I invent for you."

"Some more than others, Miss."

"You did very well." I patted his bare bottom patronisingly. I examined his blindfold, and instantly I could tell that he had not interfered with it. Checking his cock, I was fairly sure that this, too, had not been removed and replaced. I squeezed him approvingly, giving him a quick wank, and feeling his three quarters stiff cock stir once more under my stern touch. "You have been stiff a long time, haven't you, Mr Loverman?"

I felt behind his head and removed his blindfold. Blinking, accustoming his eyes to the light once more, Mr Loverman looked around him, surprised, I think, to be freed of his encumbrance. He looked at me hopefully, probably wondering if I might still be undressed, but I was now fully clothed.

"Did you enjoy washing me, Mr Loverman? And drying me?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Could it have been any better?"

"No, Miss."

"Not even if you could have seen what you were doing?"

"Well, yes, Miss."

"That would have been better?"

"Yes."

"But you said nothing could have made it better."

"Sorry, Miss, I was wrong."

"Mr Loverman, you must learn to tell me what you think, not second guess what I am expecting you to say. So you would like to see me naked, then, would you?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Why?"

"Because you are beautiful Miss. Because I want to serve you. Because I worship you."

Good answer, good answer, especially the worship bit; I liked that, the thought off being worshipped.

"Would you like to see me now?" I don't know about him, but the conversation was turning me on.

"Yes, Miss," he whispered hoarsely.

"Okay," I said. "Maybe a glimpse. Kneel down. On your hands and knees. That's it." Mr Loverman assumed the position, like an expectant puppy, and waited for his next instruction. His cock, with its red garland, nestled between his thighs, still pointing upright.

I pulled a chair over next to him and sat back in it. It was a high backed chair, and I was forced to sit quite upright in it, with my feet just reaching the floor. I made myself comfortable and faced Mr Loverman, legs together demurely. I was wearing a long, loose skirt with panties but no tights. I felt a tingle of anticipation, my heart pounding excitedly in my chest, as I contemplated my next move. Mr Loverman was about to get his first glimpse of his goddess, I was about to show something of myself to him at last. He had waited very patiently for this moment, and now he was to be rewarded.

Slowly, I eased my legs apart.

Mr Loverman knelt before me, rapt, watching my legs parting, waiting for the revelation. I gathered up my skirt and pulled it to my knees, and finally Mr Loverman had a view up my thighs, towards my panties. He panted in satisfaction. I eased myself further apart and now sat before him, legs splayed at an angle of 120º.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Come forward. Come close."

He shuffled forward until his face was in line with my knees, his breath hot and ragged on my thighs. I pulled my skirt over the back of his head, covering him with it, trapping him within the fabric of my clothing. I allowed him to hold it upwards, so that he wasn't encased in darkness, and settled back to allow him to take in the view. I sat like that for a good five minutes, with my obedient Mr Loverman at my feet, his head nestling beneath my clothing. It was very exciting, being studied so closely, being worshipped, as he had put it, and I was becoming very turned on.

I slipped my hand inside the waistband of my skirt and fumbled underneath it. I found my panties and rested my hand on my bush.

"Can you see, Mr Loverman?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Good, watch very closely then."

I slipped my fingers under my panties and felt the sparse, trimmed hair of my bush. Sliding downwards, I felt my clit, hard and prominent already, sliding out from its protective shield, and down further to my slick and puffy lips. I began to stroke my fingers up and down, first and third fingers playing first outside and then inside, grazing across my sensitive skin, slipping deep inside me, gathering my fluids and streaking them across my lips, making me moist, making me damp.

"Can you see?" I repeated.

"Yes, Miss."

"What can you see?"

"Your hand, Miss. The outline of your hand, under your knickers. You're playing with yourself, Miss."

"Would you like to watch me come?"

"Please, Miss, please allow me to watch."

My first and third fingers were scratching around my clit by now, the second finger grazing across it, nudging it, cajoling it. I was soaked, the fact that Mr Loverman was inches away, watching my every movement adding a frisson of excitement to the moment, and I knew that my panties must by now be damp. That would be an added bonus for Mr Loverman, I felt, an extra, visual treat for him.

"Can you smell me, Mr Loverman?"

"Yes, Miss, I can."

"How do I smell?"

"Like heaven, Miss. Like nothing I've ever known."

A wave of excitement passed through me, jolting my senses, and I literally shook. My clitoris was solid beneath my touch, aching and screaming, at once demanding attention and shying away from the immensity of the sensations being unleashed around it. All dommes and subs know about the place where pleasure gives way to pain, and pain to pleasure, where sensations merge, mingle, combine in a thrashing, whirling vortex of emotion. I scratched hard, forcing myself through the pain of my protesting clitoris, insisting that it endure the maximum. I squeezed it, sliding my fingers into my slit, probing deep and clasping my walls around them. My knees were hard against Mr Loverman's face, pressing on either side, squeezing his cheeks. I gasped and involuntarily lifted myself off my seat, and I began to come, a surge of sensations seething out of my womb and through my pussy, down my thighs, my legs, into my feet, across my chest, along my arms, tingling through my fingers, prickling through my hair, flushing over my face, my cheeks red and rude. The sensations went on and on, a constant, ever changing whirl, flooding through me, wave after wave, gradually, only very gradually, subsiding, dropping, easing off once more and returning me to normality. My fingers were soaked, completely covered in my sticky fluids, and my panties, I knew, would be sodden. Gasping, I sat back in the chair, allowing my body to return to normal.

"Right, Mr Loverman," I panted. "Take off my panties."