Marcus woke up tied to a chair in the center of a large, ornate hotel room, the lights of New York City stretched out beyond the windows. His head was light, but it wasn’t pounding; his mouth was dry, but it wasn’t gagged. He tugged at the ropes binding his wrists to the arms of the chair at his sides.

The recollection of what had happened came back to him quickly, and Marcus looked furtively around the room.

“Tia? Tia!”

A long moment of silence was his only answer, pockets of shadow hiding much of the expansive suite.

He pulled at his wrists, his ankles also roped to the front legs of the chair, the lengths folded over several times, secure and not uncomfortable.

That’s Tia’s rope work all right, Marcus knew, testing their strength. She’s as good as ever.

He was completely naked, muscles flexing under his skin. He was still big, strong, but not strong enough to simply burst through nylon cord.

And Tia knew that.

But his cock was unbound, and that was obvious to him, to anyone else in the room, anybody looking into the window even from a skyscraper across the boulevard. It lurched out from his crotch, long and thick, hard and upraised and ready for action, peering around the room as if to satisfy its own curiosity, its own hunger.

Tia chuckled, remaining in the shadows before stepping out slowly, her high heels clacking against the marble floor. Marcus turned to see her stepping out of the shadows, her long, lean body wearing only a lacy red bra and panties and matching stiletto heels.

“Hello, Marcus.”

“Tia,” Marcus said with a wry, weary smile. “I have to say, congratulations. I didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off.”

Tia stepped closer, red hair flowing over her white shoulders. “You underestimated me, Marcus. You always did. That’s how I managed to swipe the Longshadows concept right out from under you.”

“So you admit it,” Marcus said with just a touch of added venom, just for effect. “You robbed me blind.”

“You can’t lose what you never had,” Tia said, “so you can’t steal what a person doesn’t yet possess.”

Marcus pulled at his bonds as Tia began a long, slow circle around the chair. “But I possess it now, and I’m not giving it up.”

Tia chuckled again, dragging her fragile fingers through his graying hair. “Silly boy, you’ve already lost it. I kidnapped you; that was harder than you kidnapping me.”

“I was more clever about it,” Marcus said. After a moment of consideration, Marcus said, “I suppose we’ll have to go two out of three; whoever gets the other one next takes it all.”

Tia stopped and turned, bending down to lower her face to his, her eyebrows arching in faux sympathy. “Oh. poor, sweet, delusional Marcus.” She kept stroking his hair, fingers leading down to his cheek as their eyes locked. “There won’t be any third time.” After a deliberately menacing moment, she added, “If, for you, any next time at all.”

Oh, she’s good, Marcus had to admit, his cock agreeing with a pulsing stretch to even greater lengths in front of him. She’s very good.

Tia sank to her knees in front of him, her hands on his strong, muscular thighs as she gazed at his huge, engorged dick. She leaned forward as if ready to take it, his hips pushing forward a bit to meet her halfway.

Do it, Marcus silently urged her, grab it, suck it, kiss it, and love it like you used to do!

But Tia’s eyes shifted down to his feet, and she changed direction and sank to the floor. Marcus’s muscles twitched when she kissed his foot, just below the layers of nylon cord. He clenched his toes, feet rolling on his ankles as she kissed the other foot and them slowly began to make her way up his calves. His muscles pulled, involuntarily, delighting in their restraints. Her lips sent little jolts of electricity into his tissues, little bites only ratcheting up his nerves, increasing the toughness of his muscles, the strain of his cock as it longed to be touched, squeezed, glanced, anything.

But she was taking her sweet time, and the frustration erupted as another impatient spasm in his chair.

She crept over his knees like some shadow creature, a man-eater creeping up slowly to devour her prey. She advanced, her lips and teeth combining to thrill him, rubbing her nose and cheeks and chin into his inner thighs, more little bites underscoring her heated breath as it got closer, his cock reaching out to meet her.

Please, for the love of God, Marcus wanted to cry out, suck my fucking cock!

Tia looked up from her nibbling on his thighs, one brow raised, half a smile tucking into her cheek. It was as if she could read his mind, read his body.

She always could.

But he thrust his cock forward anyway, legs spreading, butt raising off the chair to push into her face.

Finally Tia was merciful. She grabbed the base of his dick with one hand, mid shaft with the other, and slipped his massive, aching head into her mouth. She was warm and welcoming, her tongue dancing around his dong with as much grace and skill as ever. Her tongue was quick and certain, tracing every contour from the top of the head to the vein running along the bottom. Marcus savored every motion, every swirl of that warm, wet tongue as it coated him, inspiring even a greater stretch, length even he’d never seen in it before.

Tia rubbed it over her face, nuzzling and cuddling it, blowing little jets of air over it in a way she knew drove him crazy. She was a genius of cock worship, and his own cock had its own adoration of her. It was like they were a pair of lovers all their own and independent of Marcus who was left simply to witness, a voyeur to his own lovemaking.

Slipping it back in, lowering her tongue to give him even more room, Tia squeezed the base and pumped the shaft and licked the head, a three-way assault that brought Marcus’s natural response churning in his sack. He could withhold an orgasm for hours if need be, but when he was bound up the way he was, under the care of someone with Tia’s skills and their emotional history, Marcus knew that even his own mastery was being challenged. He’d always been in control, of every situation and over every body, especially his own.

But then there was Tia McBride, who held the key to controlling him, the only woman who ever could. Once his protégé, his eager young pupil, she was now a master and a mistress, and he subject to her wiles, her cleverness, her boundless sexual appetite.

But he held back, exerting the energy into pulling at his bonds, clenching the muscles of his torso, tensing the diaphragm, pushing his orgasm back even while Tia relentlessly worked his wang. It was as if she knew he was ready to cum, and that he was trying not to. And she seemed to want him to fail, to defeat his will simply for the thrill of it.

They both knew he’d recover quickly enough and come back even stronger, with even more endurance than she’d be able to handle.

But with a jut of his body backward, back slamming against the chair, Marcus knew he’d won the battle, even if the war effort itself was happily doomed.

Tia stopped, backing off of his cock, hands on his thighs. She knew what he wanted, what they both wanted, and Marcus had marshaled his forces, gathered his strength, and passed the point of any quick return.

It would be a long, hard slog.

But she wasn’t ready yet, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You don’t wanna cum yet,” Tia said, rising to her feet with a smile. “That’s okay, I knew you wouldn’t. But it really isn’t that bad. I’ll show you.” Tia walked across the room to a small desk where she slid a drawer open. She closed it and turned slowly. Still across the room, she struck a match, lighting her up, and the white candle in her hand. She lit it, shook out the match, and slowly started to walk toward Marcus, once more struggling in the chair.

“No, don’t!”

But Tia just smiled as she approached the chair. “All you do,” she calmly explained as she stroked the length of the candle with her free hand, “you get something that’s nice and hard and long. Then you get it nice and hot.” The flame grew at the tip of the candle, white wax already collecting and starting to drip down the side. “Then this hot, white goo comes out.”

“Tia, don’t!”

“Don’t what?” Tia leaned forward as if innocent in her question, that hot wax falling into his lap.

The candle wax hit the top of his cock with a sizzle. Still wet with her saliva, the wax cooled immediately, but the initial sting was incredible. The second was bigger and hotter, the initial sting disappearing but leaving a searing memory.

“Give up,” Tia said, her voice suddenly quick and stern. “Turn your client list over to me.”

But Marcus just shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on hers, his mouth a flat slat. No other answer was necessary or forthcoming. Another splash of the candle dropped a hot patch of wax on his cock and his thighs, blobs landing in his thick patch of pubic hair. It hurt more than the others, the protective sheath of Tia’s saliva drying fast.

But Marcus just stared her down, and she returned his silent glare, neither one of them willing to back down. But Marcus knew she didn’t expect that. He knew she was using it as a clever dramatic ruse, a way to ratchet up the tension and keep the kidnapping fantasy alive.

She really is good at this, Marcus had to admit, if only to himself.

And she seemed to know that he needed a little more oral attention; the recent sensory memory of those sizzling spots were well soothed by her kisses and licks, the contrast of pain and pleasure underlined by his physical restriction enough to push even a man of Marcus’s power over the edge.

Tia gave him a few pumps, testing his strength and readiness. There was no need to ask.

Without a word, Tia dropped her panties and bra and, standing in only her red heels, and turned to position herself over Marcus and with her back to him, dropped herself slowly onto his massive member.

But Tia went down slow, and Marcus knew it was because she could sense his growing impatience. She had him under her control, and she wasn’t about to let it end too quickly, if at all. Marcus hadn’t been inside Tia for years, but he’d never forgotten the singular sensation of being intimate with someone who harbored such intuition and sexual prowess. Tia’s clit wrapped around his cock, surrounding him, enveloping, devouring him.

His memory flashed back to their countless sessions in their years together; he’d bound her in every position, run her through the entire Kama Sutra, had her in public, with threesomes, taught her about her chakras, the ten-count, everything she’d come to master about human sexuality.

Is this the first time she’s ever had me tied up like this? How long has she been waiting for this? How long have I been waiting?

But the time for waiting was over, and for Marcus the time for utter and complete control had gone too. It was time to sit and let Tia work her mastery, her magic. She gyrated those perfect hips as she lowered herself halfway down his protruding erection. Down and up, little shakes from side to side to accentuate the pressure and maximize the contact, Tia’s entire body was attuned to Marcus’ needs, reading his level of readiness, knowing she’d failed to lure him into an orgasm with the candle wax and determined to have her pearly reward one way or the other.

Tia went down deeper, her back arching, her shoulders pressing back, her head lolling, red hair dancing as she danced on the tip of his flagpole. Marcus wanted to pull her closer, hold her tight and orchestrate their mutual orgasm for himself, and his inability to do so was a thrill of its own.

Marcus tried to add a circular pattern to their clash, but his movements were limited. It was up to Tia to read him, to know what he wanted. And she was happy to deliver, swirling her hips clockwise in a series of steady churns and then abruptly switching directions, cranking his cock and pumping it full of cum and blood and nerves almost to the point of bursting.

But it wasn’t there yet, almost, but not yet.

“You cum too,” Marcus said, his voice as strained as his limbs. “You cum too, Tia.”

“I’ll cum when I like,” she said, her voice quivering. “And so will you.”

“No,” Marcus said as Tia pumped faster, up and down and ‘round and ‘round. “Never!”

“You cum right now, damn you!” Grinding faster, harder, going lower and deeper, Tia could only shake her head in sexual delirium.

“Not like before,” Marcus said, “you love this, the power of it, the power over me!”

“Yes,” Tia said, the lump in her throat clearly obstructing her lusty confession.

“Me more than anybody else.”

“Yes…”

“Because you love me.” Tia kept pounding, her face beginning to flush. “Because you love me,” he repeated louder, with greater certainty and determination.

“Yes,” Tia croaked back, “God, yes.”

“And only I can make you cum the way you want to, the way you need to.”

“Yyyyyyyesssssss.”

“You’ve been waiting years for this,” Marcus went on, “years to have me like this, to cum like you’re going to cum now.” Tia clamped her eyes shut and kept bouncing down on his dick, a whimper her only retort. Marcus shouted, “Say it!”

“Yes, years,” Tia spat out as if from deep in her soul, involuntarily, even against her own will, following it up with a simpering repeat of, “years…”

“Then cum now,” Marcus said, his own voice strained with the effort to keep his wad at bay. But his words were potent to him as much as they were to her, and the volume of his voice, the power of his suggestion, was like his own cock; it was a double-edged sword and once it started swinging, it was irresistible to anyone, even occasionally himself. “Do it, Tia, do it!”

Tia let out a passionate cry, arching the small of her back, throwing her head around like a woman possessed, trembling, a strained stream of gurgles and choked gasps the soundtrack of her body’s implosion.

Marcus could no longer restrain his own release, and that rocket charged down his vein. His own body shook, muscles along the backs of his legs twitching and pulling, arms yanking at his bonds. Unable to control her body or his own, Marcus’s explosion was even greater than he could have anticipated, enough to inspire a grunted howl toppling out of his throat, him leaning forward and into Tia’s naked back, her read hair collecting around his face.

Their orgasms crescendoed, his subsiding while hers merely percolated, waiting to return with even greater strength. But her body was aching and tired, and both needed time to recover before they would go at it again.

In a low voice, growly and grainy, Marcus said to her, “Hey, why not untie me so we can cuddle?”