Mistress Zelight returns to give a soldier his orders.

In the second part of this erotica series, Mistress Zelight returns to give a German solider his orders.

“Zelightful Nights in Berlin: Part Two ” Kink Erotica | Lustery POV

Zelightful Nights in Berlin: Part Two

Psst...Don't forget to catch up with Mistress Zelight from the beginning. Read 

Some people lust for a lover in uniform, but I never fancied them. Authority is mine to wield.

The Korvettenkapitän looks up expectantly from under a neat cap of grey hair, hoping his crisp dress blues are enough to set my heart aflutter. But it’s his eyes that light up first. 

His jaw drops open and he decides to lead with, “I’m…I shouldn’t be here.” 

He’s stammering, looking down at my bosom, then my neck, then my lips, but never at my eyes. 

It isn’t the first time a client had a crisis of conscience on over me. There are the ones who fear their wives. Some fear their God—most fear the social repercussions that I’m all too aware of myself. But the need to indulge in a naturally encoded desire is more powerful than any man’s law. And so, here we are. 

“I was hoping you’d be ugly. That way I would last longer.” 

I laugh. What else is there to do at such a declaration? “That’s a bit unbecoming, Kapitän.” 

“My apologies,” he replies sheepishly. 

“Tribute goes there,” I say, pointing to the night table. 

“Tell me what I can do for you, Offizier.” 

“My grandfather fought in Namibia and fell in love with a...” he says with a half smile. 

“Fighting isn’t what he did in Namibia.” I correct him. 

He looks horrified for a split second before changing direction altogether. 

“I want to pleasure you, Mistress Zelight.” 

“Undress,” his practiced submission tells me his hesitance had gotten the better of him before. 

It takes a bit of fumbling to get out of the uniform, giving me time to sum him up. The German eagle tattoo across his chest tells me all I need to know. 

I wait for him to verbalize the message from his inquiry, something requiring a different kind of vulnerability. I pull out the bedside drawer and pull out my ropes. 

“I want you to tie me up. Use me,” he says, standing naked before me now.  

In his inquiry, he used the word humiliate to describe his wishes. 

He looks a bit taken aback by the speed and substance of my retort.  

“I want to serve you,” he offers again. 

He practically vibrates a bit with the joy that small act of validation gives him. I step close enough for him to smell my perfume. Slow enough to etch the smoothness of my bosom into his eternal memory. 

I run a single stiletto nail along his shoulder and down his arm. I touch his chest and I feel his erection bounce against my leg. 

“Don’t be shy,” I laugh. “It’ll hurt, but you’ll like it. Won’t you?” 

In place of an answer, he lowers his head, putting his arms out in front. I push him back toward the bed until his knees hit the mattress, buckling with hardly any resistance. I start with a double column on his wrists, and I can feel his heart start to pound. 

His body vibrates with anticipation. It doesn’t take long to get his hands bound up. I take another moment for his ankles and make a single column to join them up spit-roast style. I step back to look at my handiwork. My rigging skills have come a long way since my first painfully slow attempt to make a bowline years ago. Both of our hands were shaking back then. Tonight, I wield my rope and rope bunny with expert ease. 

The purple nylon accents his fluttering frame as he looks up at me with a mix of fear and glee. His legs are so far in the air I can see his hot pink asshole contracting and releasing as he tries to contain himself.  

Nodding, this proud agent of German might says, “I won’t cum until you tell me to, Mistress.” 

“Mistress who?” I step closer and put my fingers to work. It’s fun to watch him try to form a coherent thought while I stroke the inside of his thigh. 

“Mis— mis— mister— uhh,” he groans and his eyes roll back into his head when my nails trace along the juncture of his thigh and pelvis. 

There is a practiced ease that makes a sordid sort of sense, given the involuntary knowledge I’ve received about his family history. And rightly so. Better this than… well, what his grandfather was doing. 

“You’ve got less than half an hour for me to get into your asshole. I would suggest you get it together so we can continue.” 

“YesMistressZelight,” he groans in one single breath. 

I smile, circling the tip of his penis with a finger.  

“Get ahold of yourself,” I recommend rather than command.  

It’s up to him whether he can handle what I have to offer. I’ve already cast my bets. 

He listens to me or tries to anyway. I can’t honestly expect him to succeed at that while my gloved hand is poised ever so gently over his asshole, pressing in slightly. 

He pushes out and I press in. A high-pitched moan escapes him now, one so jarring that I glance up to check on him. His eyes are still rolling back in his head, toes curled up. Unintelligible sounds are escaping his mouth. He’s alright. 

My finger makes room and slides inside of him—just the tip. He shudders and bucks against my finger, wordlessly begging for more. I oblige, sliding in and out until there’s hardly any resistance. Then I slide in another. 

“Don’t you let go just yet,” I encourage him.   

I can tell it’s getting harder than he thought to hold up his end of the deal because now he’s just mouthing, “Please.” 

“The more that you beg, the longer you’ll wait. You said you wanted to please me, didn’t you?” I tease nicely.  

He nods and purses his lips but another moan escapes anyway. 

I slowly withdraw my finger, and his hole shrinks on the remaining one, almost cutting off the circulation.  

I use my free hand to finally pay some attention to his erection, for which he’s immediately and vocally grateful. 

I squeeze some lube into my hand and lightly grip the shaft. Now his asshole really does cut off circulation in my finger when I do. 

“I need to cum. Can I cum, Mistress Zelight?” 

“You cumming does not serve me,” I say, grinning devilishly.  

I start to feel his body getting ready to ignore me. His shaking gives way to stiffness as he puts every last bit of effort into holding out for that sanctioned release. 

I step back, pleased indeed by the frantic expression of both arousal and dismay dancing on his face as he realizes his time is up. 