Under The Pine

Sweat beaded on his forehead, despite being in the shade. Greensboro summers were hot. He wanted to reach up, and brush the sweat out of his eyes, but it was impossible. Mistress had bound his hands behind his back moments after she led him under the boughs of the pine.

She had pointed it out to him, as they’d driven through the campus a few days before. “Look, over there,” she said, pointing as she drove. He had looked over and seen them: huge towing pines, like giant Christmas trees, their boughs draping down, against the ground. They were about twenty feet lower than the road itself, but still rose high above them. “Inside them,” she said, “There is a clear area where it would be easy to stand, or lie down; to have a picnic or something other, and no one would be able to see.”

As she unbuckled his pants, he could hear the college students roaming around the campus, making college student noises. No one had seem them sneak under the pine, and no one could see them, he hoped. Mistress had gagged him to be sure he wouldn’t attract attention. She lowered his jeans and underwear together. His cock was limp because he was so worried that someone would see them, that they’d be found.

She stood next to him, and whispered in his ear as she fondled his cock and balls with one hand. “You worried?” she asked. He nodded, and she squeezed his balls. “You mean you don’t trust me?” she demanded.

He shook his head no, and she smiled. He felt himself grow hard from her manhandling. It always worked. She knelt before him, and nuzzled his cock. “I said you’d get a reward, didn’t I? This is it. When was the last time I went down on you?”

He shook his head, and tried to shrug, but his bound arms made it uncomfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d sucked his cock, and never on her knees in front of him. Of course, with the noise, and the cuffs – her selection, all part of her plan, there was no doubt who was in control.

Her lips slid over his cock, and he moaned around the gag. Somewhere nearby someone was playing Frisbee. What if they threw it at the tree? He wondered. She grabbed his balls and sucked harder, moving faster and faster over him.

She squeezed his balls, and he heard cars drive slowly by – like they always did, but he had to wonder: could they see him, bound here, helpless, a fully dressed woman kneeling before him, squeezing his balls with her vice-like grip, her lips sucking, drawing his cum out of him? He gasped and felt his orgasm rise, and then he shuddered, spilling his cum into her mouth.

She chuckled and stood up. She released the quick-release straps on the gag, and kissed him, his cum in her mouth. He lapped it up, like he knew she wanted. “That was a good treat, wasn’t it, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he agreed.

She kissed him on the cheek. “It’s what you get for being good. Just think if it happened more often.”