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Gnome hailed a cab going uptown, wiping his nose at the same time with his latest eviction notice.

As the Gnome got in, he noticed the driver staring at him speculatively in the mirror. Gnome took little notice of this, his mind on his latest graphic novel.

Suddenly, the cabbie spoke up in a somewhat grotesque southern accent.

“Hey, you know a guy called Magnus?”

“Mmh? Magnus?” Gnome shook his fat head, and bent to look at the driver.

“I know you, you’re called the Gnome”

Ah yes. Mother scrawled that on my birth certificate before nose-diving off the Central West End Obstetrics roof onto the traffic congested area where Skimpole Avenue met Buttermilk Boulevard…Was it my oddly shaped head that made her-

Reverie interrupted. “You, um go to a group called the Tawse Society? I know you do.”

Gnome shifted in the back seat.

Ah yes, the Tawse group.

The Gnome had gone to a few meetings of this BDSM group that was advertised in a local free weekly. When he’d realized the attendees were your basic normal types, or even a little geekier than normal…

Kind of like a bad Sci-Fi convention?

Gnome had been grossly disappointed. he’d hoped it would be more of the grist of his masturbatory mill, tall, mocking high chested beauties stalking around on high heel, but it wasn’t.

They had “Win A Paddle” raffles and that kind of thing. Ugh.

The few vaguely attractive people at Tawse were quite cliquish, and had their own “only hottie” parties. So it was like high school…que sera sera.

Why couldn’t it have been like it would’ve on a TV show? Everyone gorgeous, except Gnome.

Fascinating, of course that even the most grotesque gatherings, pervert groups, 12 Step programs, even grief counseling, always had the “cool table” people. Oh well.

Gnome had been court-ordered to a lot of weird shit, and it was always this way, but the Tawse Society was even stranger.

The women who looked as if they’d be vaguely dominant, the ones who headed up “Ageplay” committees and that kind of thing were often submissives.

Gnome was beginning to realize, just before he quit Tawse, that there were men who got off on submitting to women…

And women who got off on submitting to women, women who got off on submitting to men and women who liked dominating women…

And men who liked dominating women…but there were few women who were sexually enthralled by dominating men.

It almost seemed as if the few women who were “dominant” were so homely that the only reason they did it was to entrap a submissive husband, or any man at all.

So Gnome had given up the Tawse Society, preferring to onanise at home.

But this driver, an ex-Tawse, apparently couldn’t shut up about it. He looked like John-Boy Walton after a nuclear explosion.

Since Gnome actually didn’t have the fare for the ride anyway, he thought he might as well be magnanimous.

“Ah, yes. I’m the Gnome. I’ve seen you at the Tawse escort kurtköy Society, good to see you again, old bean.”

Gnome had actually seen the guy once at one of the uh, expos. Big demonstration with selling leather crap. He’d seen this cabbie, he realized…

The John-Boy had put his wrists and neck into a colonial stock and the sales person had locked it, and then forgotten about John-Boy Walton and wandered off to talk to some leather clad waitresses.

“Y’all don’t go to the Tawse anymore, uh, Gnome?”

“No. It’s-it wasn’t much fun really I think I had one interesting back and forth with a girl who dressed like Wednesday Addams, but it’s not my thing.”

The driver was full of mea culpas.

“Yeah, they mostly ignored me there too. Especially that Magnus guy. He’s a big shot there, you know.”

“Oh, Magnus, the military guy. Kind of chunky. Yes, I’ve noticed he gets his ass kissed a lot. At one of the parties, some chick asked him to run a knife over her nipples.”

The driver sighed. “Right. Don’t no one want to hang out afterwards with me, especially Magnus. I called him an asshole, real loud in the parking lot, but he didn’t hear me.”

The driver coughed. “I was payin’ a Mistress to spank me and keep me in a chastity belt for a while. I even paid for two male hustlers so she could order me to suck them off, but then I said to her, I said ‘Gail, I want a real relationship’ but she was all about the-“

“Yes, women can be very mercenary, I know it’s hard.”

“My name is Neville Norbert Blenkinsopp? And I know, you’re Gnome.”

I hate making involuntary friends, the Gnome thought. But again, he wouldn’t be paying the fare, and it might as well be a diplomatic situation.

“Yes, Neville, I’ve had the same experience. I’ve never met someone who could be a potential partner at the Tawse Society, though I did meet a pair of sister-in-laws who offered to get together with me and do a caning.”

“Sister-in-laws?”

“Yup, they told their husbands that they were going to Al-Anon meetings. One of them, Marcia, wanted to meet me in a house she was selling, and spank me, but I dropped the ball.”

“So are you a dominant or submissive mostly, Gnome?”

“I met a fat girl at Match.com and she told ME she liked being spanked and tied up, but she didn’t go to any groups. I did like giving her over the knee whippings with a wooden paddle she bought me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’d spank her and then twist her clit reaching under her legs as she was over my knee…she’d cum and then she’d blow me.”

“Damn.”

“Yes. I was attaching clothespins to her nipples, and all that. It was the only way she could get off, but unfortunately she was more attracted to Masters who are employed.”

The Gnome realized that he hadn’t even given Neville an address to be driven to, and now couldn’t remember why he’d gotten in the taxi in the first place.

“Yeah, I wish escort beykoz I could just be someone’s bitch.”

Gnome now sat up a bit. “Is it a girl you want, Neville, to dominate you like before?”

“No, just anybody, really.”

Carefully, Gnome responded. “I’d love to get ahold of a naughty boy, even make him suck my dick.” Gnome was somewhat uncomfortable about this idea, but he found himself aroused by this hick cabbie.

Neville almost stopped the cab. “Really? You want to punish me too? I live about four blocks from here.”

Neville’s house was a bit vulgar, the Gnome thought. There was one of those velvet bullfighter posters on the wall.

But it was a house. And Gnome was going to be transient soon. The Gnome’s Seinfeld-ish friends loved him, and didn’t mind small loans, or even picking up the restaurant check, but were evasive about putting him up.

“So you own a house, but you drive a cab?”

“I used to live here with my mother, and she left it to me.” Neville said. “I was s’posed to go to computer school, but it um-“

“I was supposed to finish elementary school, but after you figure out the letters and numbers, it was fairly tedious.” The Gnome wiped his brow at the memory.

They stood in the living room awkwardly, and then Neville went to the closet and brought out a short whip, about two and a half feet long.

“Mama used this on us when I forgot the dishes. I told her that twenty-six was too old to get a lickin’ but she would whip me till I run off into the kitchen to do the job.”

“That’s terrible. Very abusive” Gnome said, his cock growing in his pants.

Neville handed the whip to Gnome. “It’s called a quirt. One of Mama’s boyfriends told her it would keep me in line.”

Neville paused. “My brother and sister moved out fast, they hated the corporal punishment, but of course Mama is old fashioned. So I lived here till Mama died and left me the house.”

“Wow.

“My daddy is more modern than Momma. He got ah, um, gender re-assignment and is a lounge singer called Shebelle now, over in Vegas.”

“Neville, you are a stand-up tragedian. Let’s see that quirt.”

The Gnome fingered the short whip. “This place doesn’t look like you clean it too much, Neville.”

“No, sir.”

Sir?

Neville hung his head. “I just watch a lot of porn and drive my cab, and cash my trust fund checks. I really need some firm guidance.”

Gnome began a fervent belief in a Higher Power. “Well, it’s shameful how cluttered this place is.” Of course the Gnome’s apartment would make this place resemble an operating theater, but never mind.

“Neville” Gnome’s voice shook a bit, as Neville physically could have easily kicked his ass “This room is a disgrace. Take down your-your breeches.”

Perhaps I went too far. I’m five-four and he’s about seven feet tall.

Neville looked down at the Gnome silently, and the Gnome wondered if he was going to escort üsküdar be murdered. Murdered in a perv accident, like David Carradine.

Or Bob Crane from “Hogan’s Heroe’s” I’ll die like them-oh wait, he’s unsnapping his jeans.

The Gnome became excited, watching Neville undress, but wondered if he was turning gay. Here, he was pulling his pants down, and then Neville gave Gnome a desperate look.

“Don’t make me take down my underpants too, sir.”

The Gnome climbed on Neville’s coffee table and slapped the cabbie’s face.

“Don’t you talk back to me, boy. Take down those tightie-whities. I wish the neighborhood girls were here to see what a bad boy you are.”

Damn, listen to all that coming out of my mouth, the Gnome thought.

He still may kill me. Could Drew Carey play me on “America’s Most Wanted”?

Neville bit his lip and reluctantly pulled down his underpants. And oh wow, Neville Norbert Blenkinsopp’s dick bounced around. It had probably been hard since he was in the cab.

“I ought to cut that filthy thing off, I know what you do with it all day.” Gnome said, in mock outrage.

“Yes, sir.” Neville turned bright red and stared at the floor.

“You could be cleaning this apartment up, making your Master-“

“-You’re my Daddy”

Who the hell’s in charge here? Ah yes, the trust-fund checks.

“You could be making your daddy proud, but you are a worthless little cur.”

Neville’s lower lip began trembling.

Shit, I don’t want him to have a nervous breakdown. But his cock is still really hard. Oh, shit, he’s touching it.

“Take your filthy hands off your wee-wee. Bend over the arm of the couch!”

The Gnome hopped off the coffee table and cracked the quirt authoritatively.

“Y-yes sir.” Neville bent over the arm of the couch as directed, and now the Gnome was staring at Neville’s pale, pimply ass.

Gnome lifted the quirt and swung it lightly across Neville’s bottom.

“Sir, you can hit harder, I deserve it.”

“You most certainly do!”

The Gnome used the quirt on Neville’s buttocks until his arm was tired, and Neville was sobbing. Inspired, the Gnome instructed Neville to spin and place his penis on the arm of the couch.

“I’ll cure you of this disgusting masturbation habit!”

It amazed the Gnome that Neville didn’t even jump when the quirt landed on his hard cock the first time. It almost made it even more erect, and that was wild.

Neville took ten whacks on his penis before he began crying harder, and then Master Gnome ordered him to drop to his knees, and rub himself.

Neville was terribly drawn to the fat little man he’d picked up in his cab, and he wanted to suck his new Master’s dick very badly. Gail, his paid Mistress had run many a strap-on in Neville’s mouth, and then she’d had him suck off the hustlers.

“Sir, will you allow me to service you before I masturbate to orgasm?”

Finally, the Gnome nodded assent, and although he had a disappointingly small penis, and not very clean, Neville took it in his mouth and sucked until the Gnome shot off.

Then, the Gnome pulled up his pants and took the quirt and whipped poor Neville, chasing him into the bathroom, and made Neville dunk his head in the toilet several times while masturbating himself…

It was a glorious evening!

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

He dominated her, as she had so easily dominated conversation at dinner. Her thin legs writhed beneath him, teasing him with the utter fact that she could so abruptly escape his grasp; they were, however, dancing only as a tease. She longed for him as he had longed for her. Hungrily, desperately, and unceasingly. Those dark, daring eyes had pierced and tingled the depths of her thighs countless times, and, finally, the two of them were united here in the restrictions of his bedroom. She was captivated by the weight of him, pressing her down, holding her torso so helpless beneath him.

He opened his eyes as he kissed her lips, considering exchanging his rough, uncaring kisses for tenderness. The temptation, however, that had lured him to her for the last few weeks was not a sweet, subtle thing. It was hungry and lustful, just now birthing the slightest twinge of love and deeper connection. His fingers found her thick wrists, and he pinned them down, feeling her actually struggle against him. Suddenly in realization of his actions, he arched his back away from her, ashamed and fearful that he had frightened the girl. In her gray, sparkling eyes was not fear, but, instead, desperation. Thankfully, he thought, he had not terrorized anything but her own desire. Still, he could not continue to kiss, as if devouring her fleshy lips, until he was certain that she was prepared to make this existential plunge with him. He tightened his grip on her wrists, to the point where pain was obviously induced, and the tips of her fingers screamed silently with numbness. Her breathless expression only changed slightly. Her chest, still falling and rising with her heaving breathes, arched a bit sharper, and her eyes, which never left his, drowned completely in an anguishing want, an obvious need. She pulled her hands into fists and pushed against his grip. He realized at that moment, that she longed for the fight. A submissive she was not, but she did have something that he couldn’t quite describe. Their lived in her a need for submission, though she could not express or give into the idea of it. He realized then that she needed to push against him, to fight him, ever so gently, to maintain her own sex drive.

He let slack back into his taut spine, bending to kiss at her, but now he ran his tongue and lips along her neck. Those gray, eager eyes fluttered with the flick of his tongue, and her flailing legs tightened together, nearly bound beneath him uncontrollably. There was a moment when he bit her, harder than a nibble, but not threatening to draw blood that she tightened to quickly beneath him that she had stopped breathing altogether. Once again fearing that he had overstepped some unknown bound, he loosened his jaw and replaced his teeth with a falsely healing kiss. The air whirling in her lungs finally found its way out of her quivering lips in the form an anxious, satisfied moan. Smiling and sighing quickly to himself, understanding that he had yet to break her nerve, he bit her again, this time, slightly harder. He pulled her trembling fists together above her head, capturing both of them above her head with one hand, and allowing the other to rush quickly over a breast and past her clothed stomach and thighs to the hemming of her knee, length skirt. This was were he would violate her the way he imagined in fanatical, sickeningly sexual daydreams.

She moaned for him, hummed blissfully behind her pressed teeth. Occasionally, she slipped her mouth open to whimper for him, biting her lip to silence what would undoubtedly become and endless repetition of the same longing whimper. Anticipation was overtaking her as he skidded the tips of his fingers down her body. He seemed so tame and wild at the same time, that she wasn’t sure if he was in control of his actions or not, but she oddly trusted bilecik escort him implicitly. She had, in that moment, given herself to him, though one thing unnerved her. As he slid up the bottom of her tight skirt, his hands passed over her left outer thigh. His head, that was tilted down, opposite of hand controlling her wrists, quirked slowly to one side. She realized then that he had discovered a secret that she would have openly warned him of if she hadn’t been so lost in erotic ecstasy moments before her back was pressed into the springs of his bed.

He had pulled up that dark skirt to reveal scars that were carved menacingly into the fleshy side of her upper thigh. Most were faint, others were more vibrant, but all were obviously aged and faded. For a moment, he was perplexed. He looked up at her, aware that she would recognize his glitch in movement. The look on her face, for once, did twist to look somewhat fearful, but what he couldn’t seem to extract was the nature of that fear. Had he finally crossed a line by touching her masochistic masterpiece, or was she afraid of his judgment. His head swam with questions in mere moments. Surely she had done this to herself, but it seemed so uncharacteristic of the upbeat, sassy, and fearless individual that he had encountered up to this point, that always used sly bitchiness to degrade her fellow conversationalists. So now, both of them breathless, sat for 15 seconds or so, while he processed the situation and the expression contorting continuously on her face. He narrowed the slits of his eyes, having come to a decision.

He kissed at those scars, for only a moments, tickling along the outlines of razor blades and broken glass. She caught her breath, gasping a scared and quick. Then, smoothly, but with little notice, he pulled himself between her legs, forcing them open. She sighed. In that sigh was every reservation she had held since the first time she had slit her own flesh, and she was in that moment twelve once again, replacing the need to bring blood to the surface with the need to have this man penetrate her until she climaxed for him and the glorification of him only. He had positioned himself between her thighs now and glanced down to examine the sex vibrating waves of heat against his unbuttoned blue jeans. He noticed then, that she was panty-less. Thinking very seriously for a moment, he affirmed in his head that he had not removed her underwear and looked up at her questioningly. He freed her hands and placed both of his palms on the outside of either thigh; one of those sweaty palms was still discretely massaging her scarred flesh.

He raised a suggestive eyebrow at her, and through her breaths she smiled, shrugging at the hint in his eyes. While she had not expected the night to end this way, perhaps her disregard for underwear was an insinuation of what she privately anticipated. The seriousness between them broke, for a moment, and they exchanged a chuckle. He had not expected her to be panty-less, and she had not predicted that he would ever had discovered she was without them.

“Slut,” he whispered, thinking that he would now descend to make his mouth even with her sex.

“Your slut.” Her words were quick and almost without thought, but they interrupted his descent. He gulped and tilted his head upward.

“What did you say?” He asked, almost stuttering. She recognized the change in him immediately but was unable to calculate its origin.

“I said I’m your slut.” She was obviously nervous, for the first time fearful that she may have frightened him with hurried assumption of belonging. His face blank, he sat up. Removing his hands from her, he unbuttoned his jeans and extracted the erect bulge from his boxers. Slowly, but with manisa escort much control and balance, he leaned himself over her, bringing his hips to meet hers and slouching so his head came to just below hers. His hands found their way to her wrists once again, and he pulled them apart to either side of her fanned, mousy brown hair. He positioned himself to where he could easily enter her stinging lips, and he looked up at her.

“Whose slut are you?” He asked, senseless at the moment. She hesitated, the playful mood that had engulfed them before disintegrated like water in the bottom of a heated pan.

“Yours.” She spoke slowly and softly, and then he penetrated her. It was at this moment that his head snapped back into place. His mind, that had drifted previously into the animalistic, found its way back into reality. He felt her tense around his pleasure and grew even harder at the shrill, slipping moan she released. The thrust into her brought him even with her face, and he rested his weight on her forearms. He withdrew his shaft and plunged again. The thought of owning her satisfied an instinctual need he hadn’t realized until this moment that he had been searching for. Perhaps this is why no relationship had survived the realities of real life, but in this moment, he was complete within her.

“Whose whore are you?” He grunted to her, raising and lowering his hips again.

“Yours-” She answered almost too quickly, she thought, but that unyielding answer had complimented his momentary perfection.

Now he began to make a rhythm, pressing against the depths of her sex and releasing the pressure as he backed away only to force back down into her. He asked her several questions of the same nature, filling in other words. Slut, whore, bitch, skank, anything that he could imagine. He flung word after word to her, and her answer was the same : a tortured, unquestioning “yours.” Deeper and deeper he dove, quickening his pace. The words between them became fewer, and he lost his voice in the sheerness of their encounter. He surrendered one wrist and slipped his fingers along her face, wrapping his fingers around her throat. Threatening to deprive her of air, but never cutting off the flow, he squeezed in tortuous tease. He lowered his body by releasing her other wrist, pressing his body against her, resting his chin above her forehead, drenching it in hot, grunting breaths.

Her freed hands began to feel the warmth of circulation, and she strangled her fingers in the cottony roughness of his sheet. She could feel the heat itching away at every inch of her leaden skin. The thickness of his shaft crashed into the lining of her sex, and she felt the pressure build on her g-spot, like air blown into a balloon that was already too full. She leaned her head back to give him access to the fragility of her neck. She smiled to feel him threaten to rob her of air, and nearly squealed when his mouth kissed suddenly at her forehead. Those lips trialed down her face and to her cheeks and finally her neck. He nibbled, subtly, at her. She tossed her head, unraveling the high strung notes in her throat. Climax struck against stomach and sank into her clitoris. Her eyes, that she had held so tightly closed in the last few moments, opened, as if unhinged.

She moaned, breaths becoming more uneven than before. He, aware of her growing pleasure, looked at up at her to observe the orgasm overtake her. Their eyes met, however, and she spoke to him.

“Can I cum for you?’ She was obviously desperate, needy, and attempting, with all of her strength, to wait for his permission. Craving his consent, she begged with glossy eyes and the squeezing of her muscles around his heavy shaft. Hearing the desire in her voice, he deepened mersin escort his strokes into her, abruptly ready to release his own ecstasy.

“Yes, baby, cum for me.” Their was not lust nor love in his voice, but, instead, lingered the tone of preparation, as if it was the most certain and satisfying thing in all the world for her to validate him with a heavy, hard, and regretfully sweet orgasm. She did, just that in fact, as soon as the words escaped his lips. Her back, arching to the point of pain, pressed up against her, and he raised his weight off of her to give her room to squirm. It hit her like a hit of salvia and a giggle of insanity. It was, by far, the most excellent feeling that she had ever experienced. Adrenaline fucked the nerves in her brain, senselessly, mimicking how he now threw himself into her. He sat up completely, gripping at her fleshy, tense hips, repeatedly feeding her body more incentive to cum. She was undeniable the most beautiful woman in the world to witness cum on his throbbing sex. She was wild, with no ambition or regret or memory it seemed. Expecting life to begin and end in this moment. She whimpered for her, repeating “yours” over and over in gasping, halting breaths.

As he fed her need, she milked his pleasure. Bearing witness to her orgasm, he was brought to his own, and he filled her quickly. He tried to continue to thrust into her, which he did successfully for a few moments, until his legs trembled and quivered uncontrollably. It was at that moment that he nearly fell over her, catching himself with a strong right arm. His abdominal muscles clenched and released, and his length grew. Her eyes finally rolled back into the proper position in her head, still dizzy from that last drops of sensuality he had blessed her with. She reached a week arm around his neck and pulled up into him. His left hand assisted her chest to his, and they both balanced their, reeling from their pleasure. He groaned, perhaps grunted once or twice, nearly embarrassed at the way his body quivered above her. She was unaware of his shaking as she trembled as well, clinging to him to savor the warmth of his ejaculation overflowing within her. He brought his lips together, forcing them to relax, and breathed heavily through his nose. Finally, her throbbing stopped, and she went limp in his arms. He caught his breath as his orgasm subsided as well, but held tight against her. It wasn’t until like his adrenaline had stopped ravaging his veins that he lowered her weak body back onto the mattress. Their was a hint of sweat on her brow, and he wiped it away unthinkingly. Her arm drooped from around his neck, and she slid her thumb lovingly against the length of his jaw line before dropping it with a noiseless thud back to the mattress as well.

She saw him now in a different light. He was no longer the vanilla sexed, smooth talker she could so easily shut down. He had stolen an obvious part of her, that she had set out for the world to claim years ago. His eyes didn’t look into her eyes at first, but traced up and down the curves of her body, capturing the moment intensely.

“Thank you.” She sighed, without hesitation or forethought. He pulled his eyebrows in, as if confused, and finally let his eyes find hers. Opening his lips for the first time since his orgasm, he permitted a creeping, crooked smile to overtake his face.

“You’re welcome.” He said, doubtlessly.

“Take me again?” She begged now, suddenly and with reason unknown to her. It seemed some insatiable child was reborn in her. Something she had buried and awoken with a pet cemetery vengeance. She was his for the night, as least for the moment.

He sighed a half laugh, half chuckle. His eyes broke their contest with hers, and his smile grew inside. Then, in mere moments, that smile contorting into some more conniving. He raised a suggestive, menacing eyebrow.

“Whose slut are you?” He reveled in her pause of thought.

“I’m yours.” She answered him, under the impression that he would have realized that by now.

“Good.” He removed himself from her, gripped her hips harshly, and simply flipped her over…

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

This is an excerpt from A Queen From Eden, the latest novel in my erotic science fiction series.

*

“May I join you?”

The voice startled her out of a light slumber. She had come to this party over Oscar’s protests. She had come in spite of the tabloid pages screaming about what had happened in the morning, some calling for her abdication, others proclaiming her a living saint. She had come in spite of the fact that she could barely walk, barely see, barely speak, so thick had the fog of fatigue grown, too thick for even the pins to penetrate. She had come because she needed to mingle. And now, no one would talk to her. After a few polite greetings, they had all drifted away. They were afraid of her, afraid to be seen with her. No one wanted an image of themselves chatting with the mad queen to be the next source of tabloid gossip.

“Sure,” Sarah said. Too many drinks had slurred her speech. “There’s plenty of room.” Who was this man? He was a giant, strongly built, middle aged, grey hair and a hint of flab betraying his beauty. Powerful, cruel, attractive.

“You’re not eating,” he pointed out.

“I can’t eat,” she sighed. “It’s useless. I just lose it later in the evening.”

“Maybe,” he said, “you need some semen. To help with your digestion.”

“Some what?” She must have misheard.

“Some semen,” he repeated, then added, with a little smirk, “I would be glad to assist you.”

“You impudent …” she hissed, and she tried to slap him. Even woozy, even a little drunk, she was still an assassin, one of the best. There was no way he should have been able to block her. But he caught her wrist, almost casually. Almost as quickly, three men had moved in behind him. Her men, her guards, ready to kill him at a hint from her. But he let go of her wrist, and she let her hand drop to the table that held her empty glasses.

“Is there a problem, my lady?” one of them asked, too casually.

“No,” she said. “No problem. Not yet. The next time,” she added, “stay further away.”

“Yes, my lady.” The guards retreated.

“A wise move,” the man said.

“You could have killed them all,” she answered. “They were in too close. They are far enough away now. They have their weapons trained on you.”

“My lady, do you think I would travel without my own protection?” The man smiled again, but there was little humour in that smile. It was a grimace of ultimate power and arrogance, a smile that could overwhelm. He was trying to defeat her, just with the force of his will. I am the Goddess, she thought, I am the very Hand of Death, the destroyer of worlds. No mortal can withstand me. No one can see me as I truly am, and keep their sanity. And she smiled back at him, blazing with the full force of her true nature. He did not finch, his smile did not waver.

“Who are you?” she asked, abashed.

“You do not remember me? I certainly remember you. You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever …” he paused, searching for a word.

“Fucked?” she suggested.

“My lady, I was hoping to use a more delicate term,” he smiled again in mock apology. “Making love did not exactly describe the situation. Having sex seemed too cold blooded, too clinical.”

“Never mind,” she said. “You were a client?” “One of your very first.” He smiled again, but this time it was a soft, genuine smile. Goddess, she thought dizzily, I could love this man. Maybe I am falling in love already.

“You were much younger,” he added, “and your hair was purple.”

“Purple!” she gasped. “You’re the pioneer!”

Goddess! She barely remembered his face. She hadn’t been paying attention to his face. “You lost your accent?”

“Come with me,” he said, his voice lilting now “be wife. Make babies.” Yes, it was him! “The offer still stands,” he added, reverting to his normal cadence.

“I’m still married,” she answered, desperately twirling her wedding band.

“No you’re not. You’re just fooling yourself.” He took her other hand, grasped it, not hard, but hard enough to keep her fingers still. “Your marriage was over before he went away. You know it. You just won’t admit it to yourself.”

“Who are you, to tell me that? How would you have any fucking idea what my marriage was like?”

“I’m someone who has loved you, ever since I,” he paused, “met you. I’m someone who vowed to discover who you were, who promised to return to claim you.”

“I am a queen,” she said, “I rule this world.”

“I rule a thousand worlds,” he replied. She looked doubtful. “In the next galaxy,” he added. “It’s all mine now.” A war, a big war, she thought to herself.

“An entire galaxy?”

“Most of it. Except for the transit stations. It’s not that many people,” he admitted, “a few people spread out over a lot of worlds. But they are all mine now. Sarah, sweet Sarah, your little commonwealth will never amount to anything. You’re just fooling yourself there, too. You’re sacrificing yourself, you’re wasting your life, for things that are futile. Come with me, marry me. Together, we can build an batman escort empire that will last forever.”

Yes, she thought, yes. This was what she needed. This was her destiny. But a doubt disturbed her. “You’re a mortal,” she said. “You can fix that!” he said too eagerly. “Let me become your eternal king!” They were talking too loudly. The guests around them were beginning to notice, to strain to hear what they were saying to each other.

“I can’t do that!” she whispered. But then she wondered, could Jake do it? Did she have the power after all? “You can,” he assured her. “You have the power in you still.” Still? How did he even know that she had ever had it?

“You must remove the suppressor,” he added.

“I cannot,” she blurted, then caught herself. Not many people knew that Noah held the key. If this man thought she could remove it at will, let it stay that way. “I have made my vows,” she added lamely.

“Vows,” he snorted, “are made to be broken.”

He wants my power, she thought, he wants immortality. He’s dangerous, dangerous! But she could not tear herself away from that smile.

“I will offer you,” she said, “one evening. Two, perhaps, if you please me.” The smile grew crueller, bristling at her challenge. “But,” she added, “there is something you must do in return.”

“Improve your digestion?” he suggested.

“There is a woman, a dear friend of mine, who has vanished.”

“Sister Mary,” he said, without hesitation.

“I believe,” she said, trying to remain calm, trying not to tremble, “that she may be found within your galaxy.”

“If it is so,” he said, quite solemnly, “I will restore her to you.”

“Good. Now, signal to your guards to back off, no matter what happens. I don’t want any blood spilled. Arrest this man!” she yelled. As he grimaced in surprise, her own guards overwhelmed him and dragged him out of the room.

“What was that all about?” Oscar came rushing over to her. “Do you know who that was?”

“No,” Sarah said. She realized she had never learned the man’s name. “He was drunk and obnoxious, that’s all I know about him.”

“That was Luther, Emperor Luther, as he likes to style himself. He’s been making quite a name for himself.”

“Really?” Sarah tried to project profound lack of interest. “Emperor Luther. What is he, one of those professional wrestlers? He’s got the build for it.”

“No, my lady, he claims to have a huge empire, a real empire, over in the next galaxy. Of course, how big can it really be? We estimate that the total human population in that galaxy is less that two hundred million. No more than one of your provinces.”

“Spread out, though,” she mused.

“Most likely,” he shrugged.

“Well,” Sarah said, trying to keep her tone even, “we’ll let him cool off tonight. Maybe in the morning he’ll have better manners.”

******

“THIS,” LUTHER SNAPPED, “is not what you promised me. This was not our bargain.”

“Yes it is,” Sarah answered. “Why do you think I am here?” She wrinkled her nose. The guards, had, perhaps, been too enthusiastic in their preparations. The room reeked of sweat and blood. “Did they harm you?”

“No,” he admitted, “they were very polite.” The blood, she realized, was on his wrists and ankles. He had been trying to free himself. The chain was long enough that he could reach the cot, the little sink and toilet, but not quite to the door where she was standing.

“You tried to escape,” she said. “How foolish.”

“I lost my temper,” he admitted. “I was so enraged that you had deceived me.” He was, as she had ordered, naked. More hairy than she remembered, not as blonde, thicker in the middle, but still magnificent.

“Deceived you? Not at all. I promised you a night with me. I never specified the details.” She slipped off her robe and sandals. “Really, how did you think it was going to happen? I can’t invite you into my hotel room. It would be all over the tabloids. Here,” she smiled a chilling smile, “no one will be bothering us.”

“Where are we?” he asked. He had been hooded almost immediately after his arrest, drugged into a stupor. He had awaked to find himself stripped off all his possessions, shackled in this windowless little cell. Never again, he had thought, never again! The horror came back to him in a rush, and he had tried to break free, not even beginning to think, until pain and fatigue had forced him into submission.

“Somewhere. We are in part of my private space, my secret space.”

“I take it,” he said, “we are no longer in Toronto?”

“That would be a good guess.”

“You used a wormhole.” She shrugged in reply . “Isn’t that illegal, on this precious little planet?”

Another shrug. “It is forbidden,” she said. “The secret police have their own private network.”

“This is all illegal,” he said. “You have no right to arrest me, no right to hold me.”

“Don’t talk to me about law,” she shrugged again. “I’m a lawyer, remember? I passed the bar exam, first try.”

“What yalova escort about your precious constitution?” He was boring in on her now. Shackled, he was still attacking her. She should have gagged him, blindfolded him, left everything a fantasy. Now she was standing here shivering, trying to match wits. She already knew she was stupid, she didn’t need another evening of humiliation.

“This isn’t like you,” he was taunting. “Doesn’t this go against everything you’re preaching, everything you believe in?”

“Isn’t it odd?” she sighed. She sat down on the cot, within his reach, and he sat down beside her. “I’ve grown better, and at the same time I grown worse. Both at the same time, like a tree spreading out.”

“How much worse?” he asked. Goddess! This was something she had never talked about, not to Oscar, not to Susan, certainly not to her children. The only person she could ever have talked to was gone, missing. And now this man, this possibly very evil man, was coaxing it out of her.

“You’re a king,” she said. “You know how it is.”

“Yes,” he said, “I know.”

“There are things you have to do, decisions you have to make …” she paused, unable to continue.

“It changes you,” he said.

“I killed two men,” she said, “when I was very young. I didn’t have to kill them. It haunted me, sometimes it still haunts me. But now,” she paused again.

“It gets easier,” he said, and she nodded, mutely. “After a while,” he said, “they lose their faces, you don’t remember each one, you forget that each of them had a reason to live, people who loved them.” She was starting to cry now. She wasn’t going to cry in front of this stranger. She had come here to intimidate him, to force him to yield to her. “It’s natural,” he said. “It’s part of being who you are, what you are.”

“No,” she said, “it’s worse than that, much worse. Are you cold?”

“I’ve been very cold for a very long time.”

“Let me see if I can do something about it.” She went over to her robe and took her phone out of the pocket, spoke into it briefly. “Well, fuck you too!” she snapped. “Those fucking assholes!” she grumbled, draping the robe over her shoulders as she sat down on the bed.

“What did they say?”

“They told me it would be nice and warm once we got going. The nerve! The fucking nerve!” But she was laughing as she said it.

“They can talk to you that way?”

“The guards,” she said, “have a special relationship. I wouldn’t be queen, without the support of the secret police.”

“They selected you?” he asked.

“Not exactly. But they supported the decision. They swore loyalty to me. They report to me and me alone. I wouldn’t last a week without them.”

“I thought you had a constitutional government now. A sign of weakness.”

“I still control my guards.” She smiled, a smile that few ever witnessed.

“You know who Stalin is?” he asked. She nodded. “He came from my part of Earth. He used to have his guards find little girls, kidnap them, bring them to him for the night.”

“You think that I’m doing that?” she flared. “That I do this all the time? I’ve never done this before, never.” He didn’t say anything, but she could tell he did not believe her.

“You’ve been in this cell before,” he said.

“No,” she said, then added, “not this particular one.” She took a deep breath. My God, he thought, in a sudden panic, she is going to tell me something that no one can know. I am never going to leave this little cell alive. “There are men,” she said, “who want to kill me. Almost everyone loves me, but there are a few who hate me so much that they risk everything to kill me.”

“Women, too?” he asked.

“So far, no women.”

“How many?”

“Enough,” she said. “At least one a week. Sometimes a couple in one day.” He looked startled. “They come from all over,” she added, “from all over the galaxy. Sometimes, they are captured alive, and they come down here.”

“They go on trial?”

“No,” she said. “If they can convince the guards that they are innocent, that they were arrested by mistake, they go free. The memory of their time with us is removed. It’s easier that way, for everyone. The others …” she shrugged.

“You execute them?”

“Eventually.” The way she said it made the room seem even chillier. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “After a while,” she said, “I got curious. I wanted to know why people hated me.” Another pause. “I wanted to know,” she added, “if they were seeing through my veneer, if I wasn’t fooling them, if they recognized how evil, how unworthy I was.”

“And?”

“I came down to watch an interrogation. You have to understand, all the time I was working, I was the one who was bound, spanked, raped, humiliated. I was always the victim.” The expert at being hurt, her son had said. “I never thought, I never dreamed …”

“You enjoyed it,” Luther said, “and you hated yourself for enjoying it.”

“H’raak used to rape his prisoners,” Sarah said. “He was an evil, evil man, ordu escort not even a man, a monster.” Like his son, my son, my beloved little birdbrain, she thought, and she began to cry. Goddess, what was she doing here? What had happened to her, to bring her to this place?

“His guards kept up the tradition?” Luther suggested.

“These men were going to die anyway,” she said. “Why not? Why not?”

“You let it happen.”

“I watched it happen.”

“You wanted to join in,” he said, and she did slap him, this time. Not too hard, bur hard enough to point out that he could no longer block her. “Pretty difficult for a woman,” he added. “Catherine the Great, you’ve heard of her? One of my favourites. She used to look for nice looking guards. Or horses.”

Improbably, her phone rang. “In your dreams,” she said, more amused that annoyed. “Yeah, fuck you too.”

“Who was that?”

“One of the guards. He thought that was a great idea.”

Luther squirmed in his chains. “We’re being watched?”

“Of course we’re being watched. You think I’m crazy enough to come in here alone with you, with no one watching? Does that bother you?” It certainly didn’t bother her. She had always worked with a monitor. She would have been terrified to think that she didn’t have that safety net. “It’s a lot more comfortable for me that way,” she added. Except, of course, when a son has been looking at recordings that never should have been made public, when a son questions all of your sexual activities. She saw how he was wilting. “Are you scared?” she taunted. “If you wish it, I can leave, and you can spend the rest of the night wishing you could reach your dick.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “Let’s get started.” She fumbled in the pocket of her robe, and brought out the device. His eyes widened in sudden alarm.

“Boje Moi,” he said, “what is that thing?”

“A toy my husband got for me,” Sarah said. “It’s more that just a dildo. It’s a prosthetic penis. You can actually feel what it’s feeling. Well, you couldn’t, you don’t have the right plumbing on the other end. But I can.” She stood up and slipped it into place.

“You raped them?” he said. “You raped those men?”

“No,” she said. “Never, never. But …”

“You brought me here, you tied me up,” he stopped, snorting with laughter. “This is some sick fantasy for you! There’s no reason we had to do this. We could have gone back to my hotel, to your hotel. We could have had a nice, civilized evening, made love like human beings.”

“Made love,” she snapped. “No! Never! Maybe we could have fucked nicely.”

“You idiot! You sick idiot! You expect me to turn over and let you stick that into my butt?”

“No,” she said. She pressed a few buttons on her phone, and the chain that held him began to retract into the ceiling. The restraints were beginning to tighten, to lift him up off the floor.

“Okay,” he said, “I get the point. I’ll cooperate.”

She let chain go slack, and he stretched out on his stomach. She knelt behind him, and tried to enter him, but his buttocks were clenched tight. “Come on,” she said, “I know you’re very strong. What I want to know is how brave you are.”

“Brave?” he said. “Brave enough to fight?”

“Brave enough to yield,” she said. “If you want me, you are going to have to surrender.”

“Fuck you!” he muttered, but he relaxed, and she slipped into him without resistance.

“Damn!” she muttered.

“What’s the matter?” he said. “Not what you expected?”

“No,” she said, “it feels wonderful. It’s too easy, that’s all. You’re supposed to be screaming. In my fantasy, you’re supposed to be screaming. You’ve done this before,” she added.

“No,” he said. She could feel him tensing. If it had been real flesh inside of him, it would have been squeezed right out. “Never. Well, some medical tests, but never for pleasure.”

“No lies,” she said. “You like it. I’ll bet you went for a lot of those tests.” She pressed up against him, feeling the hard little spot within him, letting it slide across the tip of the artificial penis. “Oh,” she said, “a little large for a man your age. We’re going to have to give you a thorough examination.”

“You’re good,” he admitted. “You’re very good.”

“I haven’t done this for a long time,” she said. “My husband used to like it.” Used to, used to. Her husband was history, very ancient history. Noah had been big, but not this big, strong, but not this strong. She rubbed her breasts on that strong, broad back and Luther began to tremble. She kissed his neck, and the shivers turned into one long spasm. She came then. It felt different, this way, so much sensation transferred out to her artificial maleness. It tingled, it glowed, but the final orgasm was centered back where it has always been. It had been a while, she realized, quite a while, since she had even had a hint of desire. This had been building in her, somewhere, silently, secretly. Now, at last, it was rushing through her body. She felt as if she was pouring fire into him, flooding him with her desire. Of course, the artificial organ could not ejaculate, but she could sense fluid pouring through it. Goddess! She was peeing into his butt! No, she realized, it was like that one time with Paula. It had never happened again, she had almost forgotten that it could happen.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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When my Mistress proposed marriage to me I was overwhelmed with delight.

I was honoured that she would consider my services as a slave so invaluable that she wanted me to serve her permanently. But I knew being her husband would not be easy. She wanted to own me entirely, and as my Mistress, that was her privilege. But that did not mean that I would own her in the same way – there were other slaves, I knew it, and I knew sooner or later that I would have to deal with them.

Imagine my shock when she told me she was due for a sound fucking from one of her lovers. Lovers? There were others outside of the D&S construct? I hardly had time to digest the idea when she led me to our room, opened the cupboard and revealed the restraints on the wall at the back. I had never seen inside this cupboard (she gave me a whole room to myself in her apartment), but when I saw the restraints, I immediately wanted to be put in them.

She buckled me in, placed a gag in my mouth, then closed the cupboard doors, and through the crack, I watched her step back to catch my eye. With my ankles and neck restrained, I breathed steadily in the darkness, but could hear my heart pounding in my chest, forcing the blood to rush through my ears. I heard a knock at the door. My Mistress left the room to answer it, then returned beykent escort moments later, flung like a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of an enormous, muscular man. I had never seen this man before in my life – I had no idea who he was.

His back was turned to me and when he took his shirt off, muscles rippled across his shoulders and down his back – he was all meat. On either side of him, I could see my Mistress’s calves, ankles and feet. He dropped his trousers, revealing a pert, muscular arse, then launched himself at my wife.

“Erff!” I heard her cry. I leapt forward, I was sure she was in danger and needed me, but the neck restraint held me firm, pressing on my Adam’s apple, leaving me struggling for air. Before my eyes, I watched that man’s arse lunging back and forth as he began to pump my wife. She began to emit tiny high-pitched squeals, and I was convinced these were in objection, but then I heard her say stop. The man stepped back, and my wife moved to one side. I heard her pat the bed – the guy kicked off his jeans completely, mounted the bed, then flipped himself over and lay down on his back with his head on my pillow!

And that was when I saw it – a cock bigger than anything I’d seen in my life. It had to be almost gaziosmanpaşa escort a foot long and had the breadth of a donut! As he lay there, it was like this pink alien appendage poking up from his pelvis, veins bulging down the shaft, the glans perfectly formed beneath the purple head. He stretched his arms up above his head then placed his hands behind his neck. My wife shed her sheer lace shift, threw her right leg over the guy’s stomach, then positioned herself above that mammoth cock. She looked up – directly at the crack in the cupboard door. Our eyes met – hers became hooded and catlike, mine grew wider. She leaned back and lowered herself down on that massive cock – giving me an uninterrupted view of it sliding unrestricted into her now over-stretched cunt. She looked at me again, then threw her head back and began to raise and lower herself on that behemoth.

My mouth dropped open around the gag-phallus as my hands went involuntarily to my own groin. I was surprised to find my cock was standing at attention. Without taking my eyes off my wife, I gripped my burning penis around the shaft and began to stroke myself in unison with her rhythm.

She kept on at a steady pace for quite a while – it was clear to me that she completely ortaköy escort enjoyed taking that entire cock up her cunt. But I saw that goon’s hands come from behind and grip her by the hips. His fingers squeezed her flesh tightly as he grabbed hold of her and began to pump her even harder on his cock, pushing her right down to the base, dragging her back up off it, then launching her downwards again. I quickened the pace of my own strokes, jealous that my wife so obviously enjoyed fucking someone other than me with assets that I could never match. I wanted to burst out of the cupboard, drag my Mistress off of that thing, and kick that guy’s arse out of our home. But of course I realised, even if I weren’t restrained, my Mistress would never allow it – interference like that would ensure a whipping to the point of almost breaking the skin on the back of my legs. It was a punishment I never wanted to provoke.

My cheeks became flushed, the muscles in my forearm began to scream as I continued on jerking off at a furious pace. As I looked through the crack in the doors, I watched my wife’s tits bouncing up and down uncontrollably as she began to throw her head around and moan loudly with every thrust. I tensed the muscles in my thighs, clenched my butt cheeks and prepared myself to come when my wife let out a God-awful scream and suddenly slumped backwards. I immediately shot a massive load at the back of the cupboard door and allowed myself to slump against my restraints. My eyes wandered to my Mistress’s distended pussy lips, glistening with cunt juice and cum. She was still impaled on that massive cock, and there was nothing I could do about it.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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As she gets out of bed she can already see she is running late. “Shit well he must be too then.” heading downstairs she slips on a pair of jeans and makes some coffee. Before she can light the first smoke of the day he pulls into her driveway.

Rolling her eyes she heads for the door, making her way down the driveway she can already see he is not what he said he was. Taking a deep breath as he steps out of the car she puts on her best bullshit smile and give him a hug. She can already feel him breathing hard in her ear, “How are ya hon?” pulling back he smiles at her

“Better now.” kissing her deeply, pushing his tongue into her mouth she resists the urge to bite it out of him mouth. Breaking the hold she heads for the door, opening the door for him she leads him inside to put down his stuff. They speak briefly as she thinks of a way out of it all. Seeing there isn’t one she heads towards the living room to make sure the dogs haven’t broken loose cause that’s all she needs is a law suit. He follows behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders he spins her around and kisses her. Running his hands over her body, pulling down her tank top to get a look at her tits. She rolls her eyes behind closed lids as he looks her over.

Taking one nipple in his hand he pinches it until her eyes pop open and a small squeak escapes her. Looking at him “I woke up late and I haven’t had a chance to shower yet. Why don’t you have a seat and I will be back soon.” He spins her around grabbing her jeans and ripping them down. Landing an array of slaps on her ass “You aren’t ready and I told you to be. Now what should I do with you? Is this how you show respect to ME???” Letting her body register all that has just happened “No it isn’t and that’s why I said I would be right back.”

Heading for the stairs she can hear him following her, she turns to look and can see hadımköy escort him following her up the stairs. Once in the bathroom she strips down and turns the water on as hot as she can stand it, leaving the curtain half way open so she can see him in the mirror. Watching her closely she washes herself in a slow manner, making sure he can see every move she makes, taking the razor in one hand she watches his face and she runs it over her legs and pussy to make sure she is totally clean shaven.

She can already hear him breathing heavy as he watches her. Letting the water run over her al ittle longer “Are you almost done?” she can see his impatience “Yes I am almost done.” as he opens the door she can feel the cool breeze coming through “Well I will meet you down stairs then.” “OK” she rolls her eyes as he leaves and thinks quietly to herself “never again do I meet with out a pic.”

Toweling off she brushes out her hair and looks herself over, smiling to herself “Well you don’t look to bad for having 2 kids.” Sighing she heads for the stairs. As she hits the bottom step he comes from around the corner placing her in total darkness. Allowing herself to be lead around the living room she is placed on her knees in the middle of the room. Pushed face down in the carpet, tying her hands behind her back and her ass in the air and exposed she can hear him moving around behind her. His hands run over her ass, pulling and pushing at her to see if she is stable, there is a sudden ring of pain in her body. She tries to upright herself and cant.

“Now for every 2 you count one and don’t miss or we have to start all over again.” Cursing herself for letting him position her “Yes” the assault begins crack,crack “One” as the tears automatically come to her eyes, “Two, Three, Four” she continues counting until she reaches haramidere escort 26. Leaning down to her “Very good, I see you can deal rather well.” smiling at him “Yeah I am fine.” Pulling her upright and uniting her hands she shakes them out and decides she is going to do what she does best.

Sitting in front of her she can feel his body heat, hear his heavy breathing “Now suck it” as his cock presses against her lips. Taking her hands from behind her, placing them at the base of his shaft she licks the head, teasing it, running her tongue down the shaft and over his balls. Coming back to the head she lets her tongue slide over it as her tongue ring tickles that most sensitive spot. Pushing his cock into her mouth a few inches at a time, his hand on the back of her head, feeling him push her down she lets her teeth graze his cock. Waiting for a response and not getting one she continues to suck on it.

Pushing it back at her pace, ignoring his pleas for her to go deeper she works her tongue around his cock and over it. Pushing it in and out of her mouth, swallowing as it gets to the back of her throat giving him the impression that she will deep throat and then pulls back. Pushing her back he places himself over her, letting his cock slide along her lips she rolls her eyes behind the blindfold. Pushing into her all the way she lets a small gasp escape her lips, pumping hard into her she can feel herself building despite the hatred she has already built up for him.

Pushing into him, matching his stroke she feels herself go over the edge she lets a moan escape her lips, no sooner does she open her mouth but does she find his tongue in it. Pulling her head back he places his hand on her waist encouraging her to roll over. Following his lead she moves as he directs puling herself onto her hands atakent escort and knees, she can feel him moving behind her, his cock within inches of her pussy. P

ushing into her she can hear his breathing increase greatly, feeling him jump and twitch inside her, a moan escapes him, pushing harder into her, he knocks her to the floor as he spends himself inside her. Feeling her knees scrape against the carpet she turns her head in his direction, “You done cause if that’s all you got you wasted a trip.”

She can feel him freeze up against her. Pushing back to get him off of her, moving as she does, she takes the blindfold off, looking him in the eyes “Well? Is that it?” she waits for a answer. His face unmoving he doesn’t answer her just looking at her as she picks up the blindfold and paces it over his eyes, walking behind him she pushes him to his stomach. Reaching for the hairbrush “Now for every 3 you will count one and miss once and I use the crop. Are we clear?” shaking his head yes crack,crack, crack “One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Seven, I mean six.”

Smiling brightly to herself “Now see you wanted me to use the crop first why didn’t you say so?” Letting it fly she can already see the whelps starting to form on his ass, the higher the numbers get the harder it becomes for him to count. “30, please.”

Stepping from behind him, pushing him up by his shoulders, slapping him in the face “Next time you wanna fuck with a Mistress you let me know and we will see who Doms who OK. Cause you came here with a weak hand and lied to top it all off. Now you go tell are your Dom buddies that this Mistress with 11 years whipped your ass.” Pulling the blindfold off of him

“Now get dressed.” Packing up his toys for him she grabs a robe and heads out the door, throwing his stuff in his car she can see him out of the corner of her eye. Pointing to the car he walks slowly towards her, leaning in he kisses her on the cheek.

“Well I guess I will see you around.” her eyes burning into him

“No you wont.” Watching her walk away he pulls out of the driveway and heads back home defeated. Smiling to herself “Dom my ass.” as she heads back in to finish her coffee and have that first smoke.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

**Authors Note: As promised, this is the second installment of my story. To get the context of this part, reading the first is necessary. I want to thank the readers for their encouragement and for egging me on to finish the second part (one in particular, you know who you are). This part has more raunch than the first part and of course there is much more perversion to come. But I repeat, this series has much more human dynamics than the regular lit stories for it to be considered just smut. So please be advised that this is not just wham, bam and thank you maam. Please vote and share your feedback. Don’t forget to mention your email so I can respond to your comments.**

*

After those words from my Kutiya, I felt the dynamics between us change in a space of seconds. We were no longer very old friends who were madly in love. But we really were Master and slave. Malik and Kutiya so to speak.

I knew for a fact that my Kutiya has absolutely no idea about the dynamics of BDSM. She knew nothing of the protocols, training required and different aspects which needed to be appreciated for her to become a complete slave. But I also knew that she was a natural born slave. She understood the basic philosophy of being a slave and giving everything to her Malik.

I knew what I had to do. I had to train her and train her completely to be my obedient and mindless Kutiya. My cock was liberally leaking precum and dribbling it over my thighs by this time. I could even smell my arousal that was emanating from the heat of my dripping prick.

Another thought flashed into my head. I was in South Asia and she was in Europe. Of course I go there and she visits here, but it would essentially still be a long distance relationship. I decided to broach this with her before we proceed further. It was essential that I understood my Kutiya well before jumping into her training over zealously.

Most people tend to assume being a true Dom or Owner of a slave means some kinky sex and perverse fetish related fun. Not so. Oh they are undoubtedly part of D/s and a very important part at that. But BDSM is by no means just about the sex and kink. It’s a way of life, involving control over every aspect and that is what I imagined with my Kutiya. To train her completely and mold her according to my desires. To erase her previous existence and remake her in my own image.

So obviously to get to the fun part, I would have to first sift through a lot of unwanted clutter. Get to know her deeper and understand her feelings about essential issues which would affect us in the long run. She was a virgin in the lifestyle who had decided to become a slave simply because of love and more importantly because that’s what she was. What she was born as.

But all these were things I assumed, correctly of course, but assumed nevertheless. I needed to be absolutely sure about quite a few things first and I decided to test her capability to adapt to her new role.

All these previous thoughts passed through my mind in a space of a few seconds from the time she has said yes and I had accepted to being her Dom and training her. I realized I was still looking at the cursor blinking at the end of my message where I had accepted her as my Kutiya. By this time she should have replied with something of her own. Why hadn’t she? Immediately I controlled my drifting thoughts. No one makes a commitment like that lightly.

Without wasting time, I decided it was time to assert my dominance and show her that life had changed, for good. For the both of us of course, but it’s not easy to be trained as a slave. She needed a wakeup call first before I delved into further details with her.

I brought up the call button for initiating a cam conversation and invited her straight away. My cam was opened and displaying me sitting, albeit in a rigid position on my bed. I could see that on the corner of my screen, however her part of the box, which was supposed to display Kutiya was still dark with “Waiting for permission” written on it.

I stared at it hard almost willing it to open and display her. This was the moment of truth in some sense. Would she face me and still have the same feelings of becoming my Kutiya? We all know it’s easier to say some things to people when we are not facing them or looking at them directly. But saying the same thing while looking at them straight in the eye? Let’s just say it’s a whole different ballgame. In some ways I believed if she could look me straight in the eye and repeat everything she had told me a few minutes before, about becoming my Kutiya, then I would have accomplished a coup d’état. I would have gotten her to admit what I wanted and at the same time, see her reactions first hand.

In what seemed like ages, but must have been no more than forty five seconds, the box where I was supposed to see her suddenly opened up. Bang! There it was. I was looking at a very flustered Kutiya. She had her head bent low. Her hair was disheveled, as if she had alibeyköy escort been running her finger through it. All I could see was the top of her head. This was not nearly good enough. I needed to push further.

I noticed the voice bars were active on the window. It meant I could speak to her now and she could speak back. We had no need type anymore. I could feel my cock given an involuntary twitch. I would finally be able to assert my control in reality. Speak. Give a command and see her react to it. I licked my lips in anticipation as much as to wet them and I finally spoke. “Kutiya.”

I could hear my voice reverberate over the speaker and watched my Kutiya jerk her head up to look at the screen, effectively she was looking at me. He cheeks were flushed. I could hear her shallow breathing and her breasts were heaving up and down, in what I assumed was excitement. Her eyes were darting from left to right because she was avoiding looking at me directly. She was like a beautiful bird trapped in a cage. I fell in love with her all over again.

“Look at me Kutiya” I spoke softly. I could see her eyes dart back to the screen and me. “Look at me and see your Master, your Malik. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me exactly what you told me a few minutes before. I am sure you know what I mean, don’t you Kutiya?”

She kept her gaze fixed and staring and did not speak for some minutes. Then her head nodded up and down slowly. “Good then say it again while you look at me”, this time I said it more forcefully. The flush which was on her cheeks was now visibly spreading down to her neck and the tops of her creamy breasts which were just visible over her nighty. I kept my gaze fixed on her and hers were on me. I did not want to repeat my order again. It was crunch time.

She took a deep breath, her breasts rising like peaks and the thin nighty doing nothing to hide her visibly erect nipples through them. I could see her wet her lips. Her pink tongue snaking out and coating her lips with moisture. Her throat worked, as if she was trying to speak but the words would not come out of her mouth. I kept my stare steady on her eyes, giving away nothing of my anxiety within. I could hear the clock on my desk ticking slowly. There was complete silence.

Finally her mouth opened and she said, “I have always loved you Phantom. I never stopped loving you for even a single day from the time I met you. I have always wished I was your wife. Someone who took care for all your needs, sexual or otherwise. Someone who could serve you and make you happy. I am and always have been jealous of your wife and wished I was in her place. I know what it means to be a slave. Yes I want to be your slave Phantom. I want to be your obedient Kutiya. I want you to control every aspect of my life. Be my Lord and Master and tell me what to do every single minute of my life. Yes Master I want you to train me to be your obedient Kutiya.”

Coup d’état!

I had what I wanted. I had my Kutiya, right where I wanted her. Now our life as Master and slave could finally begin. I had quite a lot to ask her and talk to her about. But that would have to wait. I wanted to push her a bit further. I spoke softly, “Kutiya, the primary duty of a slave is to obey. In all things. That means when I tell you to do something, I do not expect thought or doubts. I expect action and immediate compliance to all I ask. Even if you think what I am saying is wrong or incorrect, there is to be no disobedience. If and when I give you permission to speak freely, you can express doubts if you have any. Not otherwise. Are you willing to accept this first principle as the basis of your training from today?”

Her gaze was steady when she replied, “Yes Malik, I accept complete obedience and total compliance to whatever you may order, without thought or doubt.” I smirked. “Take your clothes off Kutiya. I know you are not wearing a bra, but if you are wearing any panties take them off too. Then push your chair back. Take a couple of steps away from the camera so I can see all of you.”

All I could see was her blush getting even deeper, if that was possible and her throat work as she swallowed a couple of times. Then I head the screech of her chair as she pushed it back and said, “Yes Malik” while she stood up. My cock was going crazy and straining against the seams of my shorts. I wanted to take my shorts off and stroke it slowly while I watched her, but I grit my teeth and maintained control. I always had an iron will and can exert it like a hammer if I want to at any time. I am a Master. A Malik and a Malik never loses control, no matter what the temptation. She needed to know that and I needed to demonstrate by example.

Her nighty was a modest but thin affair with buttons down the front. At least ten of them. She took a step back so I could now see her fully and started to unbutton the front slowly. I could see her fingers shaking slightly. sefaköy escort But to her credit she was standing straight and displaying no outward signs of awkwardness. Her buttons came undone exposing the upper swell of her breasts and more of her cleavage. I could see her breasts were spaced wide apart and not close together like some women. Because of this, though the front of the nighty was starting to gape open, most of her breasts still remained hidden.

Finally all the buttons were undone. She stood there with hands by her sides. The nighty barely clinging to her erect nipples, which supported it.

“Remove the nighty and place your hands behind your back. Feet spread and your breasts thrust out. This you will remember is the classic position for the inspection of my Kutiya.”

The moment I uttered my command she removed her nighty and let it fall in a pool around her feet. She slowly assumed the position I had ordered. This time her eyes were downcast and I felt her becoming conscious of her body.

I just looked at her naked form silently. My hand unconsciously went down to my shorts and I pulled my straining cock free from it while I continued to look. My hands were not my own. It was acting out of its own free will as it grasped the thick pulsing shaft of my cock and started stroking it up and down. I could feel the uncircumcised sheath of my cock rasping over the purple head as I stroked my cock, while my eyes continued to watch the naked form of my Kutiya.

It’s important for everyone reading this to envision my Kutiya through my eyes. So I am going to take a bit of time to describe her body in detail.

As I have mentioned before, she was beautiful. She has a lovely and perfect face. She like me was in her early thirties. Though her breasts had sagged a little due to breastfeeding her kid, but they in no way had lost any of their beauty. Her breasts were 34C and a pearly white as the rest of her body. They were capped with abnormally large light brown areola and nipples, which at the moment were erect and stood out at least an inch long. The nipples themselves besides being long were thick nubs was now smooth, the crinkled skin had smoothed out as they were engorged. The valley between both her breasts was wet with her sweat and I could see a trickle of her perspiration running down and pooling on her belly button which was an innie. Her tummy had a little bulge from childbirth and I assumed she had not consciously tried to get back into shape after the birth of her baby. It was not saggy by any means though. Instead of taking away from her beauty it added to it, making her seem wholesome and sexy in a very different way than the anorexic model way, which so many women of late aspire to have. There were no stretch marks or spots of any kind. Just a gentle swell and bulge and a crease running down just below the belly button to mark the separation between her upper and lower belly. My eyes slowly moved down below her lower tummy as I licked my lips in anticipation. I did not want to rush this. I wanted to memorize every inch of her delectable skin and body. But at this point all my thoughts stopped. My mouth gaped open as my eyes stood transfixed at about 3 inches down her belly button. It was a forest! The densest and the most impenetrable forest I had ever seen in my life. The thick, jet black curly hairs that covered her pussy mound was a feast for my eyes. It was a huge black inverted triangle. The top corners of which started at the junction where her thighs met her torso and the bottom corner I assumed ended well past her asshole (I found out later I was right in my assumption). I had never in my life seen such a delicious sight. Contrary to what most people tend to go for, I have always loved a hairy pussy. Besides the fact that it traps the scent of a woman better it’s just plain sexy to look at and feel. And this was a bush to end all bushes. Her cunt lips, inner and outer were completely hidden in the thick shiny forest. I could only make out a hint of her thick lips under the busy and see a slight slice of pink in between.

I wanted to keep looking at it for hours, but I knew I had to complete my appraisal of her. It was important for her to lose all self-consciousness, with respect to her body, before me. She had to be shameless and slutty if her training was to begin properly. I tore my eyes away from her cuntal opening and moved them down her shapely thighs, which again inspite of being plump was in no way flabby. My fist was by now tightly wrapped around my cock and was pumping it at a steady pace. Though my cock was straining and my balls were rightly coiled at its bases seeking release, I was in no hurry to cum. I wanted to draw it out as long as I possibly could. I positioned the cam so that it focused on my fist pumping on my cock. “Raise your eyes Kutiya and take a look at your Malik’s cock. The object of your worship from now.” I saw her tentatively raising her halkalı escort eyes to look at my cock and then gasp as her mouth opened in an “O”. She continued to look as if transfixed while I watched the pink tip of her tongue snake out of her mouth and lick her lips.

I smiled knowing she was hooked and wanted to continue to look at my cock. But she had to be taught complete and total obedience even at the cost of losing what’s pleasurable to her. She had to learn that her Malik’s pleasure and order is all that mattered, not her own. She needed to learn to derive pleasure from obedience and knowing that fact that she was dedicating herself completely to her Master. That is the mindset of a true slave and I wanted to hammer that into her head right from the start to ensure total compliance.

“Turn around bitch and keep your hands behind your head. I want to have a clear look at your back now.” She didn’t seem to hear my command at first. He eyes were transfixed on my cock and she was starting at it like a starving wolf. I repeated my order and with a bit more force this time. This time her eyes jerked up as she tore her eyes away from my cock as she slowly turned around.

Her back was like a well-shaped block of marble. Flawless. Of course there was a little fat around the edges. It made her back look more voluptuous more than anything else like the body on one of those old Roman sculptures. I have a special fetish for asses and I took my time appraising hers. At the end of her back her ass jutted out in a gentle swell before flaring out more dramatically. Her ass cheeks had a few dimples in them and the crack between her cheeks was dark, very deep and inviting. From the view I had of her ass it looked large. Larger than average, but well proportioned. I loved it! Her ass was very spankable indeed and I could already imagine large red handprints on that lovely piece of flesh. My hand continued to stroke my cock at a steady pace but it was getting very difficult indeed to hold back my impending cum. I grit my teeth and clenched my asshole several times to ebb the urge to spit semen out of my cock. After doing this a few moments I felt my urge to cum abate a little and I resumed my steady and slow stroking.

Now it was time for me to see that little split, that little slice of her hairy gash which I could not see from the front due to her thick pubes. ” You know you have a very hairy cunt don’t you Kutiya?”, she was still facing away from me but I could see her nod.

“Yes Malik, I do , but you can shave it if you want me to have a clean pussy.” I heard her mumble.

“No way Kutiya. I love your hairy cunt and that’s how I will keep it. Now its time to show me what you have been hiding under that hairy bush. Bend down and show me your hairy cunt. Use your hands to hold your ass cheeks open. I want a proper look at your cunt and your tight asshole”

Without a word she bent down and used her hands to hold her asscheeks open obscenely. Her slit and ass crack was now presented to me in all its glory and boy was it a sight to behold!

The triangle of her pussy hair travelled all the way over her thick outer lips covering them and moving under and into her ass crack. The hair in her crack was much finer and feathery. It travelled up her crack between her deep ass cleavage surrounding her dark brown asshole in soft curls before ending a few inches up her ass crack. Her inner cunt lips were thick and meaty. Clearly larger than her outer lips they protruded out clearly and hung out of her labia majora. The colour of her inner lips varied from light brown to dark with many folds and curls to it. She was clearly aroused as I they glistened with her juices. The gash of her cunt between her inner lips was shocking in contrast. Deep pink and now filled with thick white syrup which I could clearly see accumulated there. The thick cum of her pussy slowly travelled towards her clit which had popped out of her hood as she was bent over and gravity was having an inverse effect.

The sight of her pussy and very inviting ass had me in throes of impending orgasm. I could not hold back further, but I also did not want her to assume I could lose control so easily. She needed to know denial and understand pleasure only from her Masters pleasure. I asked her to turn around and start fingering her pussy.

She did not need to be told twice. She turned around and I could see 3 fingers of her left hand immediately being buried into her hairy cunt and heard sloppy sounds of her very wet pussy being plundered. Her eyes again resumed its steady vigil of my rigid cock meat as I stroked it now with an urgency I never felt.

I kept looking at her as her breathing got heavier. The thick white syrup of her cunt now coated her glistening fingers as she spread and bent her legs obscenely as she fingerfucked herself while standing and gaping at my cock. The sucking sound of her fingers plunging into her cunt along with the visual of her swaying tits and hairy bush rushed me over the edge as I shot about a gallon of my thick, white and sticky semen all over my thighs and floor. Strings of my cum erupted again and again as I clenched my asshole and shook from head to foot. My eyes were closed and I was breathing , almost gasping through my mouth as one of the most intense orgasm of my life overtook me.

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“We have a surprise for you on Saturday.” That statement has been running thru my head for 3 days now since they said it. My friends know that I love to try new things, push my limits, and that I trust them totally. They also know I am like a little kid when it comes to surprises. “We have a surprise for you on Saturday.” How am I supposed to sleep? I am getting my surprise in about 18 hours. All I have been told is I will get the next instruction when we get to the club. So many ideas are running thru my head. I know I will enjoy whatever it is, but what is it? The anticipation, the build up, the edge of fear but security of trust has me unable to concentrate on anything but tonight.

Saturday night…

As I enter the munch, there are more people than normal. “What is Matt doing up here?” I wonder to myself as I approach the table. He is a dear friend and a hell sadist. Maybe he has a new toy and will break it on me. What a wonderful treat and honor. Now I know I am going to have a great night. There are many new faces this week also. Hey, there are some really interesting faces. A few new men are talking over by the bar to some of the regulars including Cindy. Watching for Cindy to walk away, and get the scoop on them. Cindy has a way of getting all the important data pretty quickly. She is also a very good read on people. My attention is still going back to Matt and what wonderful new implement he has now. My friends keep asking me if I am ready for tonight. Did I get a lot of sleep? Did I put on lotion? Oh well they can take care of that? Wait, what does that mean? Fire? Oh cool I have not fire in so long. Maybe he has new flaming floggers. This will be a great night. These are the best friends a girl can have. Well, if you are a submissive masochist like I am. They are my dearest friends. Both single mothers also, with kids about the same age. We are also very different in many ways. One is an incredible switch who can give pain almost as well as she takes it and really knows me so well and still likes me. The other is the sweetest rope slut I ever met. Heart of gold, great body, and to watch her euphoria while encased in rope is intoxicating. The only thing that would make this night better is my Chrissy. She is my dearest friend in the whole world, a hell of a sub, loves play almost as much as I do, and too many miles away. She is with her Dom/Boyfriend living the happy life she deserves in a different time zone, but only 1 button push away (speed dial).

Cindy is heading to the ladies room, perfect!

“Hi. You look great. How have you been? What’s the scoop on the new guys?” Comes rushing in my ears before I knew it was out of my mouth. Laughing at myself, guess I am little on edge. But think, who wouldn’t be.

“2 are Dom, very nice. 1 is switch, and married but she is open to it all and here. One says he knows you thru email, but I forgot which. Come back over with me.” Cindy calls over the stall tops.

I excitedly fix my hair, wondering how long that one piece was doing that funky flip thing. Shit, no wonder everyone was grinning at me funny. I thought I was just paranoid. I check my skirt, short but not too slutty. No runs yet in the thigh highs, garter straps are still straight, ankle strap on the 4″ hells are tight but not killing, yet. Fluff the girls, lol. Get the right balance of cleavage, and make sure the silver chain that connects the nipple rings is draped over front of the tank top. We head back to the bar, and I am trying to see if any of the faces look familar. Of course they have spilt apart now, so I have to go find my glasses and see if I can find which guy I have been emailing. Wondering which one I would like to run into tonight. Wondering if he was coming to club and going to watch my surprise.

The whole ride down to the club my mind is racing between my surprise and the few men I have been emailing, recalling one in particular that I should really set up to meet. He really has my attention shall I say. The conversation in the car turns to the new people at to the munch. “Oh hey, one of the new guys was asking for you while you stepped out. I forgot his name, but he said he might come to the club later. Why were you hiding him? He is interesting.” Came from the front seat invading my racing thoughts. “He may be at club” that is what broke thru the swirling fog of my head.

“Look we are here.”

My insides flip flop. Adrenaline rushes thru me suddenly knocking me off balance for a mere second. Mental note: wear flats up all those stairs, and then put on heels.

My senses increase as we climb the stairs. The stairway to heaven. “Oh shit, now I will have that song stuck in my head all night”, I giggle to myself.

“Do not cross the curtain.” Is growled into my ear as we approach the top of the stairs. Matt does love to mess with me. He must have it all set up already. From the grins on many faces and the glances to the curtain, and the sudden ending of conversation, I realize everyone knows but beykent escort me. This is more than flaming floggers, or one hell of a group mind fuck. I am ushered to a seat at the bar, and suddenly my favorite ice tea appears before me. Ok, someone please say something, anything. I wiggle nervously in my chair.

“She is just too cute.” I hear from the side. I go to the bathroom, beet red. I stare into the mirror, telling myself I will walk back out like nothing happen and I am going to have a great night. I wished I believed myself.

As I summon my courage and exit the door, the blindfold is dropped over my face. I sit as directed on the stool. I feel a cigarette put into my hand, and an ashtray. My breathing slows, and the slow comfort of the nicotine rushes thru me. Normal conversation has resumed. I am lost in my world of darkness, fee ling every essence of the act of smoking. When was the last time I had actually “felt” smoking. I do it daily and have forgotten that rush, that warmth washing over you, that comfort. Feeling the heat enter your mouth, go down your throat, invade you lungs, the shot of nicotine rushing into your blood stream causing millions of mini electric tingles going off all over you body as the drug infused blood circulates thru your body. A flash of heat bursts between my legs. A hand on my back brings me back to reality. I take this a signal to finish. The hand is female, as I feel the nails rake thru my hair. I do not reach back to see whom the hand is attached to. Right now in my world it just doesn’t matter.

The hand grasps my hair as I put the cigarette out. I am led to the curtain. I can hear the murmurs but not make out any of the words. I feel the curtain glide across me as we enter, washing me with adrenaline again. I am stopped, and the hand releases me. I feel more hands on me removing my clothing. No one is speaking. The absence of sight and sound is truly intensifying every touch. The cool air rushes over me, instantly chilling me.

I am directed to lie on the table. They have moved the room around. Had to get things out of the way for fire, make sense. I feel the fuzzy blanket I like. Wait, fuzzy blanket and fire? Fear and the realization that I have no clue what is going one set in. I was comforted with the thought I had figured out what my surprise was. I tensed wondering who was doing what to me tonight. I find it difficult to relax and get comfortable on this table. This must be new. It is like the rack. The center section supporting from your hips to your shoulders, feels padded under the blanket. The two extensions from the top are about a foot or so apart with the top of the table cut in a semi circle for better comfort. I try to find a good way to lay my arms and still be able to cross them to support my forehead. My Legs are supported separately on extensions about 6″ apart. Once I settle down, I feel rope slowly being dragged across my arms and legs. All four appendages are being tied down at once. Maybe that is my surprise, multiple tops. They know how much I love that. I give over to the feeling of the ropes being slowly, seductively dragged between my legs. The pressure of the ropes, the feel of them dragging against my skin, my dark world encases me again in a swirling fog of sensations. All binding complete, I am left to settle into my rope cocoon.

The blindfold is lifted, expecting a flood of light, and happily surprised to discover the room almost pitch black. A few candles in the furthest location glow at the edges of the room. My eyes adjusting begin to recognize my friends all sitting in chairs with anticipation. My security is once again broken when a man in all black enters the curtain and glides right to me. I can only see his outline as the light is mostly behind him, and I cannot fully turn my head as he stand near my hip.

His leather-gloved hand begins to glide across my back. I look at my friends with a fearful questioning, “what the hell is happening” look. The grin I get back tells me to just relax and go with it. After all I am here, with them all around, what could happen. The hands start rubbing with more pressure, feeling me relax to their touch. He starts to glide further and further until fully massaging my ass. My legs instinctively wish to part, but are unable to move from their binding. The hands laugh a low satisfaction that I have surrendered myself to him. His hands explore down my legs, running over the ropes. Down the back, gliding back up the middle, setting my inner thighs aflame at his touch. Trying to twist to see him, my hair is taken and head is forcefully lowered back to it place. Heat flashes again between my legs as his other hand slaps my ass.

His breath is on my back as he leans over me. “Say it.” He commands in a low voice.

Without thought I answer. ” I am your’s Sir.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Is growled back into my ear.

Soon after, I was lost in a whole new world of sensations. His gaziosmanpaşa escort hands touching and slapping me, the feel of the leather against me. I feel myself truly beginning to float when the flogger strikes me. The rhythmic thud lulls me into a mind space that exists on a truly different plane. The twin floggers alighting every part of my body and he orbits the table. After that it truly was a blur of strikes, caresses, thuds, and stings, everything he could think of. In the sub-space plane I was on, time had no meaning. I was nearing orgasm from the endorphins. Instantly as he began, he stopped. Anticipating what great toy he was going to retrieve, I was intrigued when I heard the clicking of metal. Was he unlatching a case? The source of the noise flashed in my head as my legs were suddenly thrown apart a rush of cool air against my wetness. So the table is moveable.

Something is draped across my arms; I lift my head to see it is a pair of gloves. The gloves small like leather, him, and me. I want to bury my face in them, but cannot reach. I am trying to wiggle my arm to move the gloves without knocking them in the floor. His bare runs up the inside of my leg, stopping just short of my wetness. My legs spread slowly wider until I fear one more inch will split me in half. There is another click, locking my legs spread wide, exposing me totally. The gentle thud of the thick acrylic cane begins on my inner thigh. From one side to the other, higher and higher until just reaching my wetness, then slowly lowering again. I lift my ass to him as best as I can move, craving to be touched. Craving the release that has been building. Who is this man? He is driving me incredibly crazy. He stands in front of me now, his crotch very close to one of my hands. The twin crops were dragging, slapping, stinging, and caressing my back and my ass. I reach out with my fingers as though stretching and graze his pants. The black denim is stretched tight across the front. As I lift my head slightly I can see he is swollen. He is enjoying this as much as I am. A wave of satisfaction hits me that I have pleased him somehow. Please whom? Who cares? He travels the length of my body to end between my legs again. I am completely open, exposing the dampness, the swelling, the darkness inside that is panting for this strangers touch. SLAP. Pain radiates thru my body from my crotch, and the bare hand contacts my wet pussy. A low laugh confirms he knows has my full attention again. One hand rests on my back, as the other begins to explore the wetness.

The darkness of the blindfold is returned to me. Once again blocking out any sight, allowing me to focus more on the other sensations. His fingers massaging my swollen clit, I begin to grind slightly against them.

“Not yet.” And his hand slides across my legs as I feel him begin to circle me with the twin crops again. Allowing me to cool off slightly. I will remember this night forever. Sensations so overwhelming, you crave more and more. He knows just how to play me, when to pick up pace, when to cool me off. Do I know him already? How much have my friends helped him? The crops return to my inner thighs. Working their way up to my crotch, now beginning to gently slap my clit. Testing my limits and wants by slowly slapping harder and harder, reading my reactions. Harder and harder until I am almost bucking, lifting myself, moaning.

“Ask.” He commands.

“May I cum, please Sir.” I beg almost breathless.

“Louder.”

“Sir, may I please cum.” I ask is as loud of a voice as I can muster.

“No.” he answers with an echoing SMACK of both crops at once on my ass. The pain makes me arch my back to the extreme pain, which settles itself in my crotch making me want to cum even more. I begin to whimper and struggle a bit on the ropes. As thought he was reading my mind “Ask for what you really want.”

“Please take me Sir. Please fuck me.” Voicing my deepest desire.

“You give yourself to me? You give yourself over in front of all these people? You wish to cum for me? For them?” he asks in a low but clear voice as he pressed himself against me, laying on my back, feeling his breath as he speaks directly into my ear.

“Yes please.” Is all I can whimper out.

I decided at that moment the most glorious sound in the world was the sound of his zipper releasing its swollen prisoner. Feeling him press up against me again, this time there was no tight stretched denim in between us. Just his hard velvet cock warm against my skin.

A familiar sound invades our bubble. I can hear what sounds like and smells like fingers entering and exiting a wet pussy. “You may not cum until she does.” I hear the other girl instructed. This adds to the excitement.

His hands on my back, this nails dragging across my back and his cock rubs against me. I am so wet he easy glides his head right in. I tighten around his cock as he slowly pushes further and further ortaköy escort into me, filling me completely. With a growl he begins to slowly fuck me as he grips my hips. With his weight on my hips and the rope on me I was completely unable to move. I was utterly at his control, and it felt great. Feeling every inch of him going in and out, starting with the tip of his large head all the way to the base of his shaft pressed right up against my bones. His speed increases, slamming harder and harder into me. Unable to stop myself, I begin to cry out. Not positive any of the sounds were real words, in my head I was screaming to keep fucking me.

Whining disappointment and frustration when he began to slow and just barley move his head right at the opening.

SMACK, he slaps my ass. Not sure if it was for whining or the fun of it, I whined again. SMACK. Ouch, that one hurt, but I got the point. His fingers penetrate me next to his cock. Stretching me. I hurt so good. He removed his cock and buried his hand in me. First 3 fingers, then 4, his thumb on my clit, his free hand slapping my ass. I was going to explode. He could feel me tightening around his hand, and slowed down again. Will I ever cum? Then one wet finger begins pressing on my anus. As I begin to lift my ass to his touch, silently begging for him to enter me.

The other girl lets out a moan of pleasure as imagine her penetrations mimic mine. He is and no longer spanking my ass, but penetrating it. Feeling both of his hands entering me I respond to him, moving in time with him. Wanting his cock back in me, needing to cum so bad it hurt.

The man really can read my mind. His head begins to enter me again, his 2 fingers still inside me opening me for him. Still using his other thumb to enter me. He begins to fuck me again. I can hear the wet slapping and moaning of the other couple mimicking our actions. I wish I could see them, but then settle into my darkness, settling into the slow rhythm of his penetration and withdraw. Something colder touches my ass. Something that is cold and firm, yet still soft. It runs it is run down my crack nosing its way into my pussy next to his cock. A slim object, that with almost a silent click, I discover it is a vibrator. The tip of the vibrator just at the edge of my opening he takes a few long, deep, slow strokes, feeling the vibrations against his cock. Without breaking rhythm, he removes the hand from my ass. I swallow the disappointment whine that attempts to escape form my mouth. I hear the low hum of another vibrator approaching from behind. How many does he have? Who is helping him? Where has this man been hiding? Can I keep him? The low hum grows closer, and I feel it on my leg, running up the back, across my ass making lazy circles as it is pushed in hard against the muscles. Unable to relax any further than I am, unable to move, almost unable to control myself, I feel the vibrator go around my hip, to come to a rest wedged under me, with the large rubber ball like head directly on my clit. When he pushed himself deep into me his balls will rub against it also. A man who knows how to enjoy a vibrator, very nice.

The vibrator that was in me with him slides higher. His is cock filling me by itself again. My ass instantly craves the vibrator. I love to be double penetrated. Being so completely filled, as he fucks me he can feel the vibrations inside and out against his cock and balls. He buries the vibe deep into me; quickly recognizing it is a plug, as it pops into place. His hands free now to grab my hips and fully take his pleasure in me. I can feel the abandonment; he is no longer thinking either, just simply enveloping himself in the feeling of us, feeling the vibes, feeling my throbbing around him. Wanting to cum, but not wanting this to end either. The vibrations quicken on my clit, his weight pressed down again on my hips. Forcing my clit down harder on the vibrator, almost to the point of pain. Almost. Craving the pain, craving the release.

Seeming like an eternity later, something cold is dripping down my ass to my pussy, awareness of a slight burn dawns. That smell, that feel, mint oil. This man knows my every pleasure. The oil rubbed onto my clit burns with such pleasure I can’t help but to again start crying out. My cries are answered with a guttural groan. I know he is close. Harder and harder, the sensations are overwhelming until I think I am about to pass out. My whole body begins to shake uncontrollably. My breathing so deep and slow, it is almost unnoticeable, my body shaking, I have lost any body control I was able to retain, and I feel myself begin to cum.

“Please Sir.” I whisper, unsure if he even could hear me.

“Yes” he hisses back just as silently. As that he begins to unload himself into me. I feel the warmth washing thru me. Knowing I have please him, knowing my cunt was now filled with his pleasure, I allow mine to begin.

SMACK, “I meant NOW!” He begins to slap my ass over and over again, making me cry out and scream as I came harder than I ever cam before in my life. Hearing her begin to cum also our cries in unison.

Words start streaming from my mouth, “Yes” “Please” “Harder” “Thank you” as the waves flood over me over and over again. The vibrator slowed to off but not removed. He pounds a few last times, pumping every last drop deep into me.

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“Contessa, I think I’ve found exactly what you’re looking for.”

La Contessa is on a mission; she has brought me into the Cannaregio district of Venice again to scour her contacts in the whore-houses of Venice for a girl who can play the role of a slave girl for her. She is deep in conversation with the matron of Il Torro Negro tavern. I was raised in the Cannaregio and before being found by one of her servants and entering the service of La Contessa I used to serve in the inns and brothels around here and, of course, do any work that was offered to me, whether that meant prostituting myself with a noblewoman or with some visiting merchant.

Eighteenth century Venice is a tolerant liberated city and the alleyways of the Cannaregio one its most debauched districts. La Contessa takes pleasure in visiting these places in Venice’s dark underbelly, sometimes in disguise, sometimes not. The last time I was in Il Torro Negro I was dressed as a noblewoman and debauched in one of La Contessa’s perverted scenes. But today La Contessa appears as herself, dressed sumptuously in an indigo gown woven with pearls and her ebony hair swept above her head and held by two ivory combs. Over her shoulder is a black velvet cape. She wears a plain white mask over her eyes to disguise her identity, though she is so renowned in Venice that it probably serves little purpose. All eyes in the tavern are turned on her. The brothels of the Cannaregio attract a diverse clientele and it is not unusual to find noblewomen here searching for some sexual excitement and they wouldn’t normally attract a second glance but La Contessa is a woman who commands attention wherever she goes. Her statuesque figure, her voluptuous curves and stunning dress draws the draws the gaze of everybody in the tavern.

“So, what makes you think she will be suitable?” La Contessa asks.

“I got a chance to speak with her. Her tale is a sorry one. She’s had many unfortunate encounters. But, she says she is genuinely submissive and I believe her. “

“Do you think she understands what service to me would mean?”

“I can’t say for sure your ladyship.”

“I’ve plenty of girls in my service who will prostitute themselves for me and are only too willing to suck cock and offer themselves to be fucked at my masquerade balls, but I’m looking for someone special, a girl who’s prepared to go further, who has the imagination to participate in my little games and is willing to do anything for her mistress.’

“All I can say Contessa is this girl struck me as being a bit different. I see plenty of pretty girls who come to me wanting to work here but this one isn’t like the others.”

“Hmm,” La Contessa ponders, “I’m definitely interested in her. Where’s this girl now?”

“Ah well, that’s the problem your ladyship, she’s in the hands of a merchant from Syria who’s been staying here. He asked for a private cellar room where he could keep a girl. I found him a little cell room in the cellars where he keeps her. I don’t know what he does to her there; it’s none of my business your ladyship, I’m sure you understand, I don’t interfere in anyone else’s business. But, I sometimes take her food, which is how I got to talk to her. She’s a pretty girl Contessa though I’ve got to say she’s in a bit of a sorry state at the moment.”

“Take me to her.”

“Oh, that’s a bit difficult your ladyship, only the gentleman is down there with her now.”

“Do you dare cross me Madame?”

A fierce stare, a raised eyebrow and a few harsh words and the poor matron of the house is catapulted into a state of agitation.

“Oh no, of course not your ladyship. I don’t mean to contradict you. I’m sure I can arrange something. Come with me.”

La Contessa has a satisfied smile on her face. We follow the matron down winding stone steps to the cellars where she points to a door hidden away in the corner and leaves us. My mistress gestures for me to be silent as we creep forwards. There is a metal grill in the door and La Contessa positions herself so that she can see through the door without being seen herself. She gestures for me to take a position on the other side so that we can both peep through the opening in the door.

The matron of the house was being coy about the purpose of the cell as it is perfectly clear that it’s part of the services she provides in her brothel and is designed for the use of her clientele with more sadistic tastes. It’s a dark cell fitted out with numerous chains and hooks. At first all I can see is a man’s back dressed in baggy light blue pantaloons and top and a turbaned head but as he turns to one side I can see a pot-bellied Arab man with a long black beard, who is clearly the merchant from Syria. Looking past him I can now see the girl. She is crouched in a corner, chained and shackled like a wild animal in a cage. The waves in her fair hair are matted and her body bears the marks of physical abuse. There is a metal collar around her neck attached to a long chain, which is fastened to a hook in the stone wall. At the moment this affords her some freedom of movement but her wrists and ankles have heavy metal shackles on, which have been used to secure her to the wall.

The merchant takes a pace towards her and slaps her hard across the face with the palm of his hand and draws it back again striking her other cheek with the bayrampaşa escort back of his hand.

“Whore slut of Bablyon,” he shouts at her. “You’re my slut and sex slave now. When I get you back to my land you’ll be made to service all my family. I have seven sons, all of them randy. They’ll take pleasure in having a little white girl to fuck. You’ll be my sex slave for life, what do you think of that?”

The girl remains silent and the merchant slaps her violently across the face again.

“I said, what do you think of that girl?”

“Yes, very good master,” the girl replies quietly.

La Contessa is watching intently. Will she intervene I wonder? At the moment she appears content to let the scene unfold before her, her blue eyes gazing with studied fascination. I try to gauge the girl’s reaction to her abuse. Is she enjoying this treatment? I know that such a thing can be possible. I have been tormented and tortured by La Contessa many times and have learnt to appreciate the blurred line between pain and pleasure and stay loyal in my service to her because of, not despite of, her treatment of me. But, I see no hint of pleasure or engagement in the girl’s face, only a blank look. Her expression is resigned as if this is a fate that she has to accept.

The merchant pulls at the girl’s bodice and rips it apart releasing her ample breasts. He bends down and bites her on the tits. I can see the red marks he has left on her soft flesh. He reaches out for a whip that is on the floor and lashes her across the breasts with it. There girl doesn’t moan or whimper let alone scream. The act of striking the girl is arousing the merchant sexually as I can see the outline of a hard cock pressing against his loose pants.

“Get on your knees bitch,” he shouts at her. “I’m going to make you my bitch-dog you fucking slut. Now, get on all fours.”

With a clank of the metal shackles on her ankles and wrists on the stone the girl does as she is ordered and gets herself onto all fours. The Syrian merchant stands over her pulling the chain attached to her collar so the rough edges of the metal dig into her neck. He grabs hold of her hair and yanks it hard. The girl lets out a gasp and egged on by the reaction the merchant twists her hair around his fist and pulls even harder. This time the girl, anticipating what was going to happen, doesn’t react. He pulls her head around and puts his face close up to hers.

“I’m going to take you girl, like a bitch in heat. But I’m going to give you some punishment first because you’re an insolent whore. What are you?”

“An insolent whore and a bitch slut master,” she answers obediently.

She releases her hair and, whilst still on all fours, she pulls up her skirt and sets on her back-side with the whip. The blows rain down on the peachy flesh of her arse. The whacking sound of leather on skin fills the cell. The blows get harder and harder until her back side is glowing red.

“Take that you bitch. What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.”

He throws the whip onto the ground, drops his pants and kneels in front of her. He twists her hair around his hand again and pushes her head down onto his erect cock.

“Now suck on it, slut.”

The girl responds immediately to the command and takes the angry hardness in her mouth and sucks on it. Her head bobs up and down as her lips run along the length of his throbbing member.

“Ooh, yes, suck hard you bitch, suck harder.”

Still holding onto her hair he pushes the girl’s head up and down his cock in fast rhythmic movements. He lets go of her hair and the girl continues the tempo of her sucking, her mouth moving in a frantic motions. The merchant looks at though he is about to burst, his face is bright red and he is moaning in ecstasy shouting, “suck me whore, suck me.”

Suddenly he pulls his cock out of the girl’s mouth and moves behind her. She’s still on her hands and knees in a doggy position and the merchant let’s go of her chain lead to grasp her hips and push himself into her cunt. He’s so close to coming that it only takes a few hard pushes before he releases his load into her. He moans in ecstasy. She pants for breath with the shock and force of the final penetration. She collapses onto the floor, no longer able to hold the position on her hands and knees, and the weight of the Syrian merchant’s corpulent body falls onto her.

La Contessa and I look on transfixed. I can see Mistress is not interested in the cock sucking and the forced fucking, she is studying the girl’s behaviour, her facial expressions and her reactions, weighing up her potential to participate in La Contessa’s more refined exotic play. The girl can certainly take some punishment but it’s hard to judge if she’s taking it because she has to or because she genuinely desires it. La Contessa will want more than a passive vehicle for abuse like the crude merchant; she will want a slave who is willing and open, who will be prepared to explore all the sadistic fantasies that La Contessa can offer her.

Having taken his pleasure the merchant sits the girl up with her back against the wall of the cell, he lifts her arms, spreads them out and chains her to the wall and then spreads her legs and locks them to rings set in the floor.

“I’ll be back to take fulya escort some more pleasure from you later,” he threatens.

It’s at this point that La Contessa decides to intervene. She pushes the door open and strides imperiously into the cell. La Contessa towers over the merchant, filling the small room with all her feminine power and beauty. The merchant is startled. Before he can respond La Contessa proclaims her intentions.

“You have a very pliable young girl there. I am looking for just such a girl for my own household. I will offer you good money for her.”

The Syrian’s brown eyes light up at the word money but he is too experienced a haggler to sound too eager.

“She’s my sex slave now. She belongs to me. Why should I give up my slut-bitch to you?”

“I will offer you a good price for her.”

“How much?”

“Four silver soldi.”

“No, six.”

“No, four. Come, with four silver soldi in your pocket you can fuck every whore from here to Damascus five times over and still have change.”

“No, six,” insists the merchant.

“I will offer you five. Besides she’s damaged goods. It’s a good price and you know it. If you carry on like that she’ll be worth nothing. Even fully fit you’d only get one soldi for her at the slave market. Five is my final offer.”

The merchant pretends to ponder for a little while but they both know he doesn’t want to lose the sale.

“OK, mysterious masked lady, you have a deal.”

“Excellent, my servant will return with the money and collect the girl this evening. It’s been good business for me.”

“Likewise for me, Madame,” says the merchant as he takes La Contessa’s hand and plants a kiss on it.

She bristles, pulls her hand away, and throws him a disdainful look before sweeping out of the cell. Her look throughout the brief negotiations for the girl was inscrutable and I am amazed that she would hand over five silver soldi to the creepy Syrian. Against my better judgement my curiosity gets the better of me.

“But mistress, are you really going to give that rat five soldi?”

“Idiot of a servant. Do you think I would hand over good money to a worthless serpent like that. I want the girl. I’m very interested in the girl. She has potential. But, I’m not paying five soldi for her. Take my signet ring and go to the procurator of the Sestiere dei Cannaregio and demand on my behalf that he send constables to arrest him. I have plans for him. You will go with them. Say the girl has been stolen from me and then bring her back to my palace for me to deal with.”

I smile; how foolish of me to doubt La Contessa’s determination and ingenuity.

“Yes, of course mistress. It will be a pleasure.”

xxxxxxxxxx

La Contessa is waiting in her throne room; at her feet is one of her slaves on all fours being used as her foot stool, naked save for a leather hood.

I beckon the girl into La Contessa’s chamber. She looks forlorn and bedraggled; her hair is a tussle of fair waves and her bodice and skirt are rough and torn. She has scratches on her cheek, bruises on her upper arm, sore marks around her neck, wrists and ankles where the iron shackles have been and welt marks all over her, all the results of her abuse at the hands of the Syrian merchant. But La Contessa has seen past her battered body and unkempt appearance and recognises the potential in her.

La Contessa rises up, pushes her slave onto the floor with her booted feet, steps onto him, pauses for a few moments as the man gasps trying to take the full weight of her with the sharp heels of her boots digging into his back before stepping down off him. Two deep indentations are left in the servant’s back. She comes forward a few paces, her penetrating blue eyes appraising the girl.

“What’s your name girl?” She asks.

“Kimberley, Madame, but I’m known as Kim.”

“Kim, that’s a strange name.”

“It’s foreign Madame. I’m from England.”

They stand facing each other, La Contessa still in her sumptuous indigo gown and the girl Kim, in tattered rags as if she had been dragged through the alleys of Venice. The one is imperious; the other is forlorn, but with a quiet air of dignified resilience. La Contessa runs her painted fingers sensuously down the girl’s face and gently straightens a few strands of tousled yellow hair.

“She’s very lovely,” La Contessa says, turning to face me. “I love her fair hair and pale skin. It’s so unusual to see such a complexion even in a cosmopolitan city like Venice. My companions will love her; I think they will be attracted to her peach like complexion. When she is bathed and dressed by my maids I think her underlying beauty will shine for all to appreciate. Tell me girl, how is that you find yourself in Venice.”

“It’s a long tale Madame, but I will try to be as brief as I can. I once served a master back in Norfolk in England. I submitted to him dutifully and he dominated me like a true master but he lost all his money when the wool trade collapsed and he sold me to a German merchant from the Hanseatic League. Much of his trade was through Venice and he brought me here with him as his sex slave but, just a few days ago, he bet me as a stake in a game of dice to a Syrian merchant and lost. The Syrian was even crueller and abused me terribly, yenibosna escort as you have seen.”

“I hear that you are submissive, yet you speak of your abuse as if it were a trial for you?” La Contessa queries.

“This is true, but yet the German and Syrian did not truly dominate and control me Madame, they just used me abusively,” Kim replies.

La Contessa nods quietly to herself.

“Well spoken girl. Yes, there are but a few men who understand what it is to truly dominate. They think that beating a girl up and raping her is sadism. They are wrong, true sadism is an art form. Don’t you agree slave?” she asks turning towards me.

“Oh yes mistress,” I concur enthusiastically, “and you are its most skilled proponent.”

La Contessa curls her red lips into a smile.

“To be a true sadist you must have the artistry of a painter, the perception of a mind reader and,” she let out a wicked little laugh, “a cruel and twisted imagination. It is not brutal, it is subtle and refined. It takes a special person to possess it and, I think, a particular kind of submissive to receive it and really appreciate it. Are you that kind of person Kim?”

At this La Contessa runs her hands down Kim’s neck and pulls her ripped bodice apart so her breasts are exposed. She runs the tips of scarlet fingernails across the pale flesh of her breasts and takes a nipple between her fingers. The two women look into each other’s eyes. La Contessa squeezes the soft buds of Kim’s nipples between her hard nails. Kim expels a gasp of air and the slightest shudder ripples through her body but she does not flinch for one second and her eyes remain fixed on La Contessa. She takes Kim’s other nipple between her nails and squeezes them both simultaneously. I have been subjected to this treatment myself. I know how sharp La Contessa’s nails are, I know how painful it feels when she squeezes nipples so tightly. I watch on fascinated. La Contessa is testing the girl and she, for her part, is showing her what she is capable of taking. Her eyes have glazed over with the effort of enduring the pain but they are still locked onto La Contessa’s.

“Do you know what it means to serve me girl?”

“No, Madame,” Kim whispers.

“I am an exacting Mistress. I am cruel and capricious. I expect my servants to obey my every word without question. I demand a lot from them. The nature of my household is, how should I say, bizarre and perverted. Yet for those that genuinely give themselves up to me and embrace their servitude the rewards are great. Isn’t that so slave?”

“Oh, most definitely Mistress,” I reply with feeling.

La Contessa, still gripping Kim’s nipples tightly with her nails, twists them suddenly and firmly. The girl’s eyes flicker momentarily but then stare dreamily back into La Contessa’s.

“Do you still desire to serve me?”

“Yes Madame. Yes please Madame, I do. Very much.”

“I don’t accept just anybody into my household. There must be a test, an initiation, to see if you are truly worthy to serve me. You have passed one little examination but this will be a far more strenuous challenge. Do you still want to go ahead?.”

“Yes please Madame.”

La Contessa finally releases Kim’s nipples. They are reddened and sore and I can see the deep impressions La Contessa’s nails have made in the soft flesh.

“Very well, I will make the plans for your initiation ceremony. Julia,” she calls to her personal maid. “This girl desires to join my household. As you can see she is in a poor state. I want you to look after her. Run her a bath and put some rose water into it. I will have her smelling like the old fashioned English garden. Find some salve for her cuts and bruises. Then find something suitable to dress her in. Report back to me on her progress, I want her ready for me a week from today. You will bring her back as my little rosy faced, fair haired submissive girl dressed for her initiation into the perversions of the world of La Contessa.”

With these ominous words La Contessa dismisses the girl and myself from her presence with a wave of her hand.

xxxxxxxxxx

I wait for La Contessa underneath the portico at the entrance to her palace which overlooks the Grand Canal. Hers is one of the grandest palaces in Venice reflecting La Contessa’s wealth and social standing. Its frontage was remodelled earlier in the 18th century to create an elegant façade. An imposing stair case fans out before me down to the canal side. Kim is by my side having been bathed and dressed by La Contessa’s maids. She is wearing a crisp white sleeveless cotton bodice laced tightly so that her fulsome breasts are lifted up to show them off in all their soft milky magnificence. I can see her breasts swelling up and down with every breath that she takes. Her skirt is decorated with a bright rustic floral pattern. Her lips have been painted a subtle pink and her cheeks with the merest touch of rouge to set off her pale skin. The knots have been combed out of her fair hair which tumbles in waves down to her shoulders and she smells fragrant. I can see La Contessa’s vision for Kim; she has been re-cast for her as a fresh and innocent peasant girl dressed in her finest clothes for some special occasion. She is lovely. At the sight of her I have to control the swelling that is rising up in my cock. I daren’t let La Contessa see any traces of an erection or I know I will be in for a severe punishment. She looks calm and serene now but I wonder if she knows what she has let herself in for. I have experience of La Contessa’s bizarre and wicked imagination and know that the ordeal she will devise for this night will be a challenging one for the girl.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Monique looked around the conference table. The five men were all dressed in dark suits. The typical amalgamation of financial industry types that imagined themselves masters of the universe. Monique considered a couple of them attractive; though not near as hot as Tyler. The two women were wearing gray, knee length skirts and white blouses. The older, heavy set woman, Susan Matthews, was the firm’s Chief Counsel. Monique was not familiar with the other woman but she was struck at how put together she was. She was beautiful in a professional sort of way. Her shoulder length, auburn hair was pulled back tight in a ponytail. Monique guessed her to be in her early thirties. She had striking, green eyes that shone behind fashionable rectangular eyeglasses with black frames.

“As you know Ms. Milan, most of our fund’s investors are outside the U.S.” Eric Knapp, the Chief Operating Officer said “they require a dynamic offshore infrastructure.”

“Well Eric, our firm has the most robust offshore platform in Cayman and perhaps any offshore jurisdiction.” Monique replied with a familiarity to match his formality. “Sanctuary Trust Company is not just a name plate at the post office. We have been providing top quality services to private equity firms and hedge funds for nearly fifty years.”

“We are quite familiar with Sanctuary’s history Ms. Milan.” Shot the younger woman with auburn hair. “It is the regulatory environment in Cayman and the island’s newly inked agreement with the U.S. regulators that have us concerned.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch you name.” Monique said with a polite hint of annoyance.

“Katherine Duco, Deputy Counsel.” She responded curtly.

“Well Katherine, the regulatory environment in Cayman is not adversarial as it is in the States” Monique started “our regulatory commission works in close partnership with the industry to assure that Cayman remains THE premier destination for offshore funds and accounts.

Was that a wink? Did she just wink at me? Monique asked herself. Did anyone else see that? She wondered as she felt a jolt of nervousness and blushed ever so slightly.

The rest of the meeting was uneventful. No big changes would be forthcoming and Monique promised to keep them apprised of any changes that may affect the status quo. The meeting adjourned and Monique gathered her notes, put them in her briefcase, and exited the conference room. Katherine approached her as she came into the hall.

“Monique, thank you for making the trip to Chicago.” She said. “I hope I wasn’t too rough on you in there.”

“Not at all” Monique replied “I like to be challenged.”

“I bet you do.” Katherine said with the hint of a smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Monique said awkwardly businesslike.

“The pleasure was all mine” she replied “and please, call me Kat, all of my close associates do.”

“Well Kat, I do hope that we will become close associates.” She said.

“I’m sure we will” Kat said “but first I may have a few follow-up questions if you happen to be in the mood for additional challenges.”

Is she flirting with me? Monique thought to herself.

“As I said, I enjoy a challenge. I’d be happy to answer any additional questions you might have.” Monique said.

“Great. I’m in meetings the rest of the day. Perhaps we could meet over drinks?” She asked.

“Uh, sure, that would be fine.” Monique said with a slight hesitation. She was seeing Tyler tonight and she knew he would get a kick out this when she told him.

“Excellent! I will meet you in the bar at your hotel at 8:00pm sharp.” Kat said with a sly smile. Then she turned and walked away.

She did it again! Monique said to her inner self. She winked at me. She is coming on to me.

Monique walked to the elevator bank while playing the conversation over in her head. She was sure that Kat had been coming on to her. What possible additional questions could she have? She asked herself. And how presumptuous of her to suggest we meet at MY hotel and at 8:00 at night! Tyler is going to die when I tell him.

She exited the office building, hailed a cab, and gave the driver the name of the hotel. In just over twenty minutes she was walking through the hotel lobby making her way to the elevator. When it reached her floor she exited, walked down the hall to her door, slid the key card in the door, opened, and entered. Tyler was at the desk in the back of the room typing something on his laptop. He looked up when she walked in noticing the funny look on her face.

“Hard day at the office?” He asked.

“I just had the strangest thing happen to me.” She said.

“Tell me about it.” He said.

“I think one of my clients hit on me.” She stated.

“Well I’m sure it’s not the first time Monique” Tyler said “you are a beautiful woman and men are dogs. I should know.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing. It was a woman.” Monique said.

“Now THAT’s interesting!” He said with surprise esenler escort in his voice “Okay, you’ve got my undivided attention. Details please.”

Monique relayed the details of the encounter including the perceived winks and the arrangement of the date. Was it a date? She asked herself. Certainly it wasn’t a “date”, was it? Tyler listened attentively. When she finished he put his finger and thumb to his goatee and nodded contemplatively.

“So what do you think?” She asked him.

“I don’t know. Without being there it’s hard to say. But sometimes you gotta trust your gut.” Tyler said. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure what to do. I’ve never been with a woman.” Monique said.

“Have you ever fantasized about it?” He asked.

“Sure, I think most women have that fantasy.” She replied.

“And did you find her attractive?” He asked.

“Yes actually, I did find her very attractive.” Monique said in response.

“Well okay then. I have an idea.” Tyler said “call room service and order us up a dozen oysters and a couple bottles of champagne. We will have a little happy hour prior to your ‘date’.”

Monique smiled, walked over to Tyler, put her arms around his waist, closed her eyes, and leaned in for a kiss. His lips covered hers and she felt the stress of the day and the anxiousness of her conversation slip away.

“I knew I could count on you to take control” she said “Gawd, I love that.”

He caressed her ass as she walked by him to the phone. As she picked it up and began to dial, he walked towards the bathroom and started stripping off his casual clothes. He would plan the details in the shower. He did his best thinking in the shower. It relaxed him.

By the time that Tyler had finished his shower and shave, room service had delivered a dozen Malpeque oysters laying on a bed of ice and two bottles of Veuve Clicquot. Monique had poured them each a glass. Tyler stood before her in nothing but a white, terry cloth bath towel. She admired his body as she reached out and handed him a glass of bubbles.

“To expanding one’s horizons.” Tyler said as they clinked glasses.

“To you pushing my boundaries.” Monique replied.

After sitting on the bed feeding each other oysters and sipping champagne Monique rose and went in to shower. Tyler stayed on the bed a moment longer to finish his drink before rising and walking over to his suitcase. He reached in and grabbed his pile of neckties. He counted out four, then added one more and put the others back in the bag. He then pulled out his dopp kit and reached in to bring out a small bottle of scented massage oil. Monique meanwhile finished her shower and was applying her makeup.

“I am ready for you.” Tyler shouted in the direction of the bathroom.

Monique went minimal on her makeup. The occasion did not call for much as she was not even leaving the hotel. She walked into the room to find Tyler still in his towel, five ties laid out on the bed, a bottle of oil on the nightstand next to the bed. She looked into his eyes and smiled.

Tyler laid a towel on the bed and motioned for her to lie on it. She lay on her stomach, looked to the left toward the window, and placed her face on the pillow. Tyler climbed on the bed straddling her body just below her ass. He grabbed the bottle of oil and poured a generous amount into his cupped left hand. He rubbed his hands together to warm the oil and then proceeded to slowly massage the oil into Monique’s back and shoulders. He continued lower massaging her legs, her ass, her thighs, and in between lightly touching the outer parts of her vagina. When her backside was oiled and smooth to the touch he turned her over. Again he started up at her shoulders and neck area, proceeded lower to her breasts, her stomach, her legs, and back to her vagina. She couldn’t help but feel aroused. His fingers slid over her labia and slightly penetrated her. She was wet for him and his oil slicked fingers.

Once Tyler was satisfied that Monique was properly oiled and relaxed he stopped, stood, and reached for his ties. With a couple turns and a twist he had fashioned a slip knot system that he placed on her right wrist. He cinched it tight and then did the same process with another tie on her left wrist. He then took the opposite side of the tie attached to her left wrist, and stretching her arm wide, attached the tie to the bed frame below the box springs. He then did the same thing to the tie attached to her right wrist. At this point her arms were outstretched and her back was pinned to the bed. Next he moved to her legs attaching his ties to her ankles. First the left, then the right. He left more play in the restraints on her legs so that she could twist and arch but her sex lay splayed before him.

“My, what a tight situation you have gotten yourself into Monique.” He said with a smart ass look.

“I’m at a loss for words” she replied “tongue florya escort tied I guess.”

“Oh, that’s next my witty little sex kitten.” He said. “I think we should start this scenario with you listening and watching more and talking less. You will have to find other ways to communicate your needs, wants, and desires.”

With those words he reached for the final tie and used it to tie a loose gag for Monique’s mouth. Then he stood back and admired his handiwork. She looked beautiful. So submissive and vulnerable that took all his willpower to not throw down his towel and take her right then and there. Instead he dropped his towel and walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a pair of blue, pinstriped boxers and pulled them on. Next he put on a black pair of dress socks, walked over to the closet, and pulled out a crisp white dress shirt. After the shirt he pulled out his dark grey suit. He pulled on the pants and tucked in his shirt. Monique lay watching him dress, gently twisting, and squirming. He walked back to his suitcase and reached in and pulled out another tie. This one, a black, textured, Armani design, he tied around his neck with a half Windsor knot. He stepped into his black Ferragamo loafers, pulled on his suit jacket, and turned to Monique.

“How do I look?” He asked teasingly. “No need to answer that, I know I look fantastic.”

Monique lay wide open on the bed watching as Tyler turned and left the room. A sense of fear came over her. What exactly was he up to? Why did he not fuck her? What was he going to say to Kat? Why did he leave her alone? All of these thoughts and more raced through her head as her anxiety and sense of vulnerability rose.

Tyler took the elevator to the lobby, exited, and made his way to the bar. He looked at his watch, a classic Cartier timepiece, it was 8:15pm. He scanned the bar and he immediately spotted the woman that Monique had described. Her auburn hair was not in a ponytail but hung freely about her shoulders. She wore a black cocktail dress that hung around her neck, dipped low to show her ample cleavage, and stopped just above mid-thigh thus showing off her toned legs. Simple. Sexy. She stood across from the bartender facing the entrance. She was sipping a pinkish drink in a martini glass. Tyler walked directly over to her glaring into her eyes the whole way.

“Kat, I’m Tyler Fox” he said matter of factly “Monique asked that I meet you.”

“Is that a fact?” Kat said with a hint of contempt. “And just where might Ms. Milan be?”

“She’s tied up at the moment.” Tyler said flashing his devilish grin.

“I don’t have time for games Mr. Fox.” Kat said.

“Then make time” Tyler said throwing a twenty on the bar to pay for her drink.

Kat watched with surprise as Tyler turned, walked out of the bar, over to the elevator bank, and turned back as if he expected her to follow. She stood there a moment contemplating the situation. How arrogant could one man be? She wondered. Or was it confidence? He certainly was attractive, for a guy. I wonder what Monique I up to? Shit, I guess I’ll play along and see where this goes. And with that final thought in her head she rose and strutted over to Tyler, taking her time, placing one stilettoed heel in front of the other.

“I wanted to share some details with Monique.” She said as she approached him. “I would appreciate it if you took me to her.”

“Intimate details?” Tyler asked suggestively.

“Are there any other kind?” Kat flirted back.

They entered the elevator and Tyler leaned close to Kat, inhaling the sweet, citrusy perfume she was wearing, and after pausing, for just a moment, he pressed the button for the 12th floor. When the doors opened he walked out and kept walking down the hall. Kat admired the confident manner in which he strode down the hall and she admired the way he looked from behind. Tyler stopped at the door and waited for Kat to join him. With his hand on the door knob he turned to face Kat.

“I think you will be pleased with what Monique would like to share with you.” He said with a sexy, tight lipped smile.

“Share with me? What is this? Show and tell?” She said teasingly. “That was my favorite game in kindergarten.”

“Yes. Show and tell.” He said. “Or something like that.”

And with those word spoken he opened the door and placing his hand on the small of Kat’s back gently pushed her into the room. Kat’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped open ever so slightly at the sight of Monique gagged and tied to the bed. Within a moment she realized from the look in Monique’s eyes that she was not in that position against her will.

“Oh my goodness. Monique, my darling, what have you gotten yourself into.” She said slowly shaking her head back and forth.

“I’m not sure she can answer you right now.” Tyler said. “It seems that the Cat’s got her tongue.”

“Well, perhaps this Kat can lend her hers.” Katherine kayaşehir escort said as she turned from Tyler and strolled slowly to the foot of the bed.

“My, my, what a pretty picture you are.” Kat said looking over Monique’s naked body from her feet, to her thighs, her vagina, her breasts, and her eyes.

Kat kicked out of her heels and stood with her knees touching the bed. She was between Monique’s legs. She reached out and, with each hand, caressed each of Monique’s legs just inside her knees.

“Such soft skin you have.” Kat stated.

Tyler had slid to the corner or the room and was seated in an oversized chair. He had grabbed a glass and filled it with champagne. Now he sat quietly sipping the festive bubbles and watched as Katherine effortlessly morphed into the role of dominant.

“I wonder what type of naughty things you must have done to deserve such treatment.” Kat said to her newly acquired submissive. “No need to answer me. For in my eyes you are guilty until proven innocent.” She continued. “And I plan to prove that you are anything BUT innocent.”

Katherine stood, unzipped her dress, and let it fall to the floor. Underneath she was wearing a red ‘After Midnight’ bralette by Hanky Panky with the matching boyshort thong. Tyler viewed the scene as a patron might appreciate a painting. Her red panties perfectly accentuated her apple shaped ass. Monique silently enjoyed the view from the front. Kat’s naturally voluptuous breasts seemed even bigger as they were pushed up and together by the design of the bra. The red fabric of her panties barely covered the landing strip of her freshly manicured pussy. Kat could see Monique smile behind the gag.

“Do you like what you see?” She asked Monique.

Monique shook her head, yes.

“Well I’m not so sure that you are as enthusiastic as I would like.” She said “Perhaps a little twist of your nipples will encourage a more appropriate reply.”

Kat leaned over and took Monique’s left nipple between her right thumb and index finger. She stared into her eyes and squeezed, gently at first, then applying more pressure and twisting slightly. Monique made a vain attempt to twist her body away from her punisher. She made an audible gasp under her gag. With that, Kat leaned over and kissed Monique on her tie covered mouth. Monique closed her eyes and submitted to her.

“That’s it my sexy knave.” She said. “Your pleasure is at my whim. My pleasure is assured if you are to be freed.”

She again leaned over but instead of putting her mouth on Monique’s she breathed a hot breath into her ear, and slid her head lower kissing her neck and clavicle. With her hands she massaged Monique’s tits interspersing gentle rubs with firm squeezes. She put her mouth on Monique’s left nipple, sucking it into her mouth, and twirling her tongue around it as it hardened. She pinched the right nipple as she bit down on the left just hard enough to illicit a cry from the gagged girl on the bed. Monique was rocking side to side and thrusting and arching her hips upward in an effort to entice Kat to continue her sensuous journey to her most erogenous zone.

“Do you want something?” Kat asked taking a break from her kisses.

Monique nodded and looked down her body towards her pussy. Kat repositioned herself on her knees between Monique’s legs. Her hands were on her thighs with her thumbs pressing into her legs right where her legs meet her pelvis, just inside the bikini line, ever so close to her vagina. She looked into Monique’s wanton eyes and lowered her head stopping just centimeters above her pussy. After pausing a moment she blew a hot breath onto Monique’s outer lips. Kat’s lips were close, but not touching, her labia. Monique arched her back and pressed her labia into Kat’s tease.

“Bad girl.” Kat said before giving a slap to the inner thigh of Monique’s right leg. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

Katherine stood and removed the gag from Monique’s mouth. Monique gulped a deep breath and started to say something but Kat stopped her by aggressively putting her mouth on hers kissing her deeply with her tongue. When she pulled way she replaced her mouth with her hand.

“You must understand that I remain in complete control.” She said. “You will tell me what I ask but you will not speak unless spoken to.”

“I understand.” She replied nodding her head in agreement.

Monique’s libido was on fire. The way that Katherine touched her, kissed her, and licked her was so different than that of a man. So different, though not necessarily better, than Tyler. It was the uniqueness of the experience, the tasting of the forbidden fruit that so turned her on and excited her. Her pussy was wet with anticipation. It ached to be touched.

Kat kneeled once again between Monique’s legs. She lowered her head keeping her eyes locked with Monique’s.

“What do you want sub?” She asked authoritatively.

“I want you to lick me.” Monique answered.

“But I have licked you sub” Kat said “I have licked you neck. I have licked your nipples.”

“I want you to eat me” she said this time “to fuck my pussy with your tongue.”

“That’s more like it sub.” Kat said. “How bad do you want it?”

“I want it more than I ever thought I would.” Monique said. “I beg you, eat my wet pussy.”

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“Get down on your knees. Crawl to me. Don’t speak.” My eyes are locked on her as she follows my orders, no questions asked. I still get nervous at the beginning of each scene. I still feel a chill down my spine when she says “yes Mistress,” in that soft, sweet voice of hers. She’s half-way across the room and she looks up at me. In her pale blue eyes I see my reason for being. With just a quick glance up, she says so many things. I am a truly lucky woman. “Wait. Stop there. Up on your heels.”

I take a deep breath. There are butterflies in my stomach but I am in control. The few seconds it takes to walk the four or feet from the bed to her feel like an eternity. I’m sure she feels the same way crawling toward me. “Look into my eyes, girl.” Our eyes connect. I see stars. Softly, I smile down at her–my girl, my love, my everything. I reach down with fingers trembling and gently caress her cheek. She sighs softly and her eyes close. With one finger I slowly trace her lips. We’re in a rhythm now. She opens her mouth, willingly accepting my finger, sucking it; her eyes are locked on mine.

I pull my hand away and my finger slips from her mouth with a “pop.” I slowly slide my hand to the back of her head; my fingers tangle in her light brown hair. I am in control. Time stands still. Tilting her head back with a gentle tug of her hair, I lean bayrampaşa escort down and softly kiss her waiting mouth. She wants to touch me–to wrap her arms around me. As much as I want to let her, now is not the time. With the end of our kiss, I feel her body relax. I let go of her hair and walk behind her. “On all fours.”

Her ass really is perfect. Her skin is so smooth, so flawless. As beautiful as it is now, it’s even more beautiful when it’s bright red. I scrape my nails down her back with excruciating slowness–all the way down over her ass. She arches and groans as I lovingly caress her skin. “Count.” I draw my hand back and with a resounding “SMACK” it connects.

She draws in a sharp breath and softly exhales, “One, Mistress. May I have another?”

She’s such a good girl. SMACK! She tenses up. “Two, Mistress. May I have another?”

I’m in my element. SMACK! She whimpers, “Three Mistress-” before she can finish the sentence I surprise her with three rapid blows. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! She fights a scream. We really mustn’t wake the neighbors. These apartment walls are much too thin.

Panting, she says, “Thank You Mistress.” Her ass is a nice shade of bright pink. A sheen of sweat is covering her body. The need to stop everything and take her right here on the fulya escort floor is overwhelming. I can sense her need too. I can smell it. I reach down and teasingly run a finger along her pussy–so wet, so warm. She wants me. She needs me. Easily my fingers slides past her outer lips and into her warm center. A soft moan escapes her lips as she presses her hips down on my hand. “Such a wanton slave, I have…” Slowly I bring my glistening finger to my lips and taste her. “Mmmm you’re delicious, pet.”

“Thank You Mistress.” she whimpers. She beginning to squirm now. She’s growing restless. Quickly I pull a leather flogger from a hook on the wall and smack her ass with it, reaffirming my control. “Do you want more, slave?” I tease her with the straps of leather, caressing her burning skin with the tips of the flogger. As she begins to answer I respond with a sharp SMACK of my palm against her bare ass.

“Yes Mistress, please…” She’s quivering at my feet. My last blow surprised her and she fell forward on her elbows. She looks so good this way–ass in the air, presented for me.

“Beg for it, girl. Make me think you want it more than anything in the world.” Shes slipping now–going to that place inside her head. Her voice sounds distant but still filled with need. She really is mine yenibosna escort now. How easy it would be to do whatever I want…This power is intoxicating.

“Please Mistress, again…” her voice trails off as I draw back my hand, “with a crop this time, Ma’am. Push me harder Mistress, I need it…I need You.” She’s whimpering, still squirming, but drifting deeper and deeper inside her head to a place where only she and I exist. I exchange the leather flogger for a stiff riding crop, one she presented to me on my birthday. It’s always been her favorite.

With a flick of my wrist I snap the end of the crop against the small of her back. In almost a whisper she says, “Thank You Mistress…” Again I bring the crop down on her, the shaft leaving a bright red mark across her ass. She’s completely silent now, save a few whimpers. She’s in heaven. I raise my arm higher, this time flicking the end of the crop along the backs of her thighs. She starts whispering, begging, “Please Mistress, more…harder…” Three quick lashes across her thighs–SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Her moans mixed with the snap of the crop are a symphony in my ears. This is the stuff life is made of.

Her whispered words are incoherent now. Still, she urges me on. I land the crop right across her ass. The red lines are beginning to blur into one mark. Again–SMACK! She rewards me with a moan. SMACK!–a muffled cry. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Finally she collapses on the floor from exhaustion, tears falling from her eyes. I let the crop fall to the floor as I bend down and pick her up. She’s so weak, so vulnerable now. Carrying her to the bed, I whisper in her ear, “You’re such a good girl. Mistress loves you, pet.”

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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This is more a collection of images than a story, ones that happened to have been fermenting in my mind this morning. They will, no doubt, be incorporated into and taken further in my actual, narrative based tales…

*

I was now quaking in both fear and excitement. My legs were beginning to dig into the concrete floor and I could feel the imprints that would be left on my kneecaps when I finally stood up. She had left me there, on my knees with my hands bound behind my back; it must have been over ten minutes ago now, and I was beginning to realize that kneeling on the floor was a lot harder to do in practice than how it looked in porn.

This was the first time I had ever been with a Mistress. I had thought about it many times, dreamed about it, fantasized about it. I had signed up to websites that were aimed exclusively at pairing off potential subs with potentials Dominants. All to no avail. So many disparate reasons meant that I never actually ended up meeting with anybody, even when the prospect was a very real one: I was always either too immature, shying off at the last minute out of sheer nerves; too busy trying to get on top of my work; somebody that I’d been particularly getting along with would just stop speaking to me after having had enough of my never being available; or the ideal person, a woman so perfect that you couldn’t dream them up, would live 3000 miles away – what with my fear of flying and the fact that my job tied me down, I would never actually lay eyes on them.

I suppose you could ask how serious I could possibly have been as a submissive if I wasn’t prepared to give up everything for the right person, to go to any lengths to be with them, to serve them and to make them pleased with me. And that would be a good criticism to level at me, and I’d accept it, but would point out that I’d never actually submitted to anybody in real life, so how could I be sure it was worth dropping everything? A trial run? Well that was exactly what I was doing now, waiting on my knees in the basement of Madam’s house, hoping she would return before my legs caved in and I failed my first basic assignment.

And she did return. I couldn’t see her because I was blindfolded, but I heard her footsteps above and behind me. She was making her way slowly down the stairs, and I wondered if she was taking her time because she was admiring my naked flesh, taking in my exposed back, bottom and thighs.

‘I’ll be with you in a second I just have to send this text message…’ No she was not taking in my nakedness, but just busy texting somebody. I suppose I wasn’t that much to look at anyway; fairly standard frame, not particularly muscled, but not overweight either. My body was, like most other elements of my life – aside from the kneeling naked and waiting to be used part – fairly standard.

‘So, what shall we do with you before your special surprise little one?’ I had already gotten hard just at the sound of her feet coming down the steps behind me; idea that I was in for a surprise caused my mind to race and my cock to react in a way I had never felt before, despite all those years I wasted masturbating in my teens. It felt as though blood, not pre-cum, was going to seep out of me and form a little pool on the tip of my cock. I couldn’t bear the excitement and knew in that instant that I would do anything, anything to hold on to this feeling forever. Madam – she was in her mid forties, I was in my twenties, and she told me she preferred Ma’am or Madam to Mistress, which she associated with younger, less experienced types – said nothing for a few moments, but I could hear her walking around me. I had no doubt that this time she was taking me in, deciding what to do with me. Despite the blindfold I could feel her eyes resting on different parts of my body, in that way when you just know you’re being stared at by someone, even though you can’t quite tell who or where they are.

Then I felt it, a single finger – the first time she had touched me since I’d arrived – rested itself at the top of my spine, at the nub where my neck ended. I jumped in surprise, and felt my cock again pulsate and strain with excitement. ‘Well, if that’s all it takes to get you all riled up then we’ll have to go slowly with you won’t we, little boy?’ Her voice was music, and her words were heavenly, there was nothing I wanted to do but have her near me for every single second of the rest of my life.

‘No Mistress, please, go any speed you want…’ I wasn’t sure what else to say, but she obviously didn’t mind my reply, because her finger began to feel down the outline of my spine, towards the base of my torso. It felt unbelievable. It felt like electricity was stroking my skin, was tickling and turning on every nodule of my spinal cord. But then I felt my muscles tighten in surprise. Her finger didn’t stop when it reached the base of my spine, but continued, albeit at a much slower pace, down towards the crack of esenler escort my bottom.

‘No more interruptions like that slave, I will tell you explicitly when I want you to speak, which will not be often for the time being, do you understand?’ I nodded my assent, and noticed that her finger, or rather, the tip of her fingernail, was now etching a path along the line of skin that led down to my hole. I felt my thighs and buttocks begin to tense up, my breathing quickened and head began to spin. This was the first time I had experienced anything like this. Years of vanilla sex, of missionary positions with partners who thought that the odd butt-reddening spank was extremely kinky, and now I had Madam’s fingernail tracing a line towards my anus as I knelt naked on the floor, and I had no idea what to do. The only thing I could do was sit and take in the sensation, and hope that she found the job I had done shaving and cleaning that area satisfactory. I had never shaved my pubic hair before, but when we’d first begun speaking over the internet and I’d shared some pictures with her, she let me know just how dissatisfying she found the excess of pubic hair I possessed. So I knelt there before her now with none of that hair present any longer, all shaved off the day before, in anticipation of my meeting with Madam, and in my desire to please her.

Her finger was not stopping, and she twisted her wrist so that the whole tip of her finger now pressed against the top of my crack. How was she managing to continue moving her finger down such a small distance for so long and never reach my hole? It felt like she was a miracle worker who knew exactly how to draw the upmost intense erotic feeling out of a male’s skin with the littlest of effort. But just as I considered this her pace quickened, her finger tip slid suddenly downwards and rested on my exposed hole, the skin around which was tightening in anticipation of a possible invasion. Surely, I thought, she wasn’t going to just slip her finger inside me, we had only met in real life less than an hour before, and we had barely spoken in that time. But then I felt it, felt the oily coating that lined the tip of her finger. I hadn’t noticed it moments earlier for some reason, but now I felt it clearly – there was lube lacing the skin of her finger.

No sooner had I acknowledged this and begun to involuntarily pant like a dog, trying to contain myself, than I felt her finger push violently against my hole. I contracted, and my buttocks clenched, but she took hold of my shoulder with her other hand and held me in position. It was over in less than a few seconds, her finger was inside me and I was dizzy and confused. I had never been penetrated in any way by another human being before. I’d had my own finger in my ass on the odd occasion in my youth, during those experimental years we all go through. But it felt nothing like this, her finger felt like a small snake, quickly darting around my insides working out every crevice, every contour of my bowels.

‘I hope you like this, because I have a surprise arriving in a little while, and I need you all ready for it.’ I gulped involuntarily, gulped in the way cartoon characters gulp when they realize something terrible is about to happen to them – I didn’t think people ever did that in real life, but here I was, gulping down my own fear. I nodded to let her know that I enjoyed the sensation, and my acceptance of this little act seemed to be what she needed, all she needed, to do anything she wanted with me from that point on. Once she realized that I was indeed the submissive slut I’d always claimed I was, deep down inside, she began to open a whole new world to me.

What happened after that can best be recounted in a simple montage of images, a kaleidoscope collage of sensations, of actions and reactions that my body and mind were subjected to over the hours that ensued…

She put one finger from her free hand inside my mouth, whilst her other finger continued its job of probing round the insides of my ass. She fish-hooked my cheek and pulled my face towards hers, kissed me violently on the lips, telling me after she did so that that would be the last time I would taste her lips in such a way for a long time, that if I ever wanted her affection again I would have to behave in a manner that pleased her in every way possible. She slid her fingers out and stood before me, resting her hands on the back of my blindfolded head. She pulled my face towards where I assumed her groin was, slowly, teasing me nearer to her. She said nothing, and the silence only turned me on more. And then I felt the tip of my nose touch something, satin material. The tip of my nose must have been touching her underwear, I could just faintly smell her sex, and she must have noticed my chest rising as I inhaled,

‘That’s it slave, breath me in, breath in deeply and absorb my scent, my sex. I’m florya escort going to drive you insane with my smell, you will be begging for release by the time I’m done with you, and I won’t even have touched you, just let you breath me in.’ I was panting at the sound of her words, could feel my knees growing weak. Madam could now do whatever she wished to my mind, she clearly knew how to press any and every button that she wanted to, always creating the reaction in me that she desired. I was helpless before her, and wondered whether I was going to die from desire and a sense of overwhelming fulfillment before the day was through.

She stepped away, walked away in fact, into the distance and I heard her making noises, perhaps moving objects. It sounded like metal against wood, or wood against metal, I couldn’t tell. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a whip lashing against the wall, or perhaps it was the floor.

‘Poor slave boy, look at that innocent little face contorting in fear. Does it make you want to run away? Hmmm? Does the thought of how painful that whip might be against your smooth little buttocks make you want to tuck your tail, your cock, between those bare naked legs and go running for your life?’ I didn’t know whether I was supposed to respond or simply sit there, still on my knees, whimpering. I did the latter, and then jumped out of my skin when I felt something touch the back of my neck. But it wasn’t a whip. It was a collar. Madam fastened it expertly, effortlessly around my neck in an instant, and I felt her start giving it little teasing tugs,

‘Come now, come follow your Madam, your Goddess, stay on all fours and follow where the lead takes you slave.’ I did as commanded, still blindfolded, and we began ascending the stairs out of the cellar. I was relieved to be leaving the whip behind having never felt it come into contact with my skin. Despite having masturbated over countless pictures of men and women being whipped by latex clad vixens, and always having wished for a moment that I was one of them, I was now thankful that I wasn’t going to taste the whip, at least for now.

I stumbled on the stairs, and whilst I was trying to regain my balance and get back onto all fours properly, Madam simply began tugging harder on the lead, saying nothing, and was almost dragging me up the stairs. I fell about all over the place and must have looked like an incompetent fool, which was no doubt the effect she was going for, humiliating me into submission…

In less that an hour I found myself, still blindfolded, tied splayed out against a wall, my body forming an X shape. I was naked, helpless, and once again waiting for Madam to return.

A door to my left opened, and I heard her high heels stepping across the wooden floor. Again she said nothing, left me to wonder whether she was looking at me, or perhaps just texting somebody again. In the time she had been gone I’d tested the leather straps that held me against the wall, or rather, that held me against the leather surface attached to the wall which she’d arranged me against. The straps were tight, firm, and I could not move or wriggle beneath them. My arms and legs were completely immobile, with straps holding each of them in place, and another running across my forehead, stopping me from turning my head or letting my neck fall forwards.

I heard her step towards me. The darkness of the blindfold was beginning to become a natural sensation, I was growing used to working out what was going on from sounds alone. But I didn’t predict what she did next. In an instant my balls were clenched by her hands as she squeezed them harder than I would have thought it possible to do without bursting them. I screamed, writhed against my bonds, but the only part of me that was free to squirm even a little was my chest, which had no straps holding it in place, I breathed deeply, biting into my lip, the muscles in my neck, in my whole body, tightening. I couldn’t work out what was more painful, the pressure her hands were exerting on my balls, or the reaction of the rest of my body – my muscles tightening up to the point where I feared I was going to shatter into a million pieces.

‘Poor slave boy, look at that heaving chest, those taught muscles. It’s useless to fight it, you’re mine now and there really is no point in struggling.’ She squeezed even tighter, I couldn’t believe the pain and wondered if I was going to pass out. I managed to squeeze out the word ‘please’ from between my clenched teeth, but I couldn’t utter more than this one, pathetic little syllable because my mouth refused to do anything but clench shut in agony.

Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, the pressure, the immense pressure, stopped. She let go, and before I knew it my blindfold was being removed as well. The aching in my cock was something I had never experienced, the pain was indescribable, and yet kayaşehir escort at the same time I was growing hard, and I felt the rush of blood and pleasure through my crotch that normally only comes just before you orgasm. I wanted more, and I had no doubt that all the thoughts, all the sensations running through my head, all the feelings running through my body at that moment, had been calculated by Madam. She knew what she was doing to my body more than I would have thought anybody ever could. And with that thought, the blindfold fell away from my eyes.

I didn’t have to wince in order to see, wasn’t suddenly blinded by light. The room we were in was lit by just a couple of candles at its far end, on the opposite wall to the one which my body was hanging on. Madam was kneeling down in front of me, head lowered, examining my balls, and rubbing them softly between her fingers, occasionally letting her hand brush the base of my shaft. I could feel all this, but I could not see her properly as my head was still anchored in place by the leather strap around it. I wanted to see her, wanted to see what she was wearing, and wondered whether she had gotten changed out of the tight blue jeans and white blouse top she’d had on when she had answered the door to me originally. I could just make out the top of her shoulders from where I hung, and it seemed as though they were bare now, no silken fabric concealing them. Before I had time to pine for her any longer she stood up and, as though reading my thoughts, removed the strap from my head. As she did so she had to stand on tiptoes, and her face became level with mine, she breathed over me, and her breath smelt of sweet strawberries. She looked me in the eye and smiled as she undid the strap. She was truly beautiful, with deep, wondrous brown eyes and dark – almost black – flowing hair. As the strap came away from my head I bowed my eyes a little, out of a sense of instinctual respect. I didn’t want to look at her, didn’t feel myself worthy of that honor now, until she told me to do so. But as I looked down I noticed what she was wearing.

The tightest of tight black catsuits clung to her every curve, there was not a crease or fold in it, it was as though the material were part of her skin, a second layer that had grown on the surface of her own body. I wondered what the material was, because I’d never seen anything so captivating, so desirable in all my time spent looking at leather and latex clad bodies on the internet. And her shoulders were not bare as I’d previously thought, the catsuit simply became transparent when it reached her shoulders, and the transparent material continued on up her neck, and ended just below her jawline. She let her breasts press against my chest and said nothing, just held my head up by the chin so that I was now looking into her eyes. The silence was intoxicating, and the feel of her breasts beneath the catsuit, her beautiful, perfect breasts pressing against my chest was too much for me to take, I whimpered as she looked into my eyes, and then ran the backs of her hands gently over the sides of my naked body, making me tingle all over. My cock was wincing at her every breath, her every touch, and as it bobbed between my legs it flicked intermittently against the material of her catsuit, probably tapping at the insides of her thighs, but I didn’t dare look. She looked down towards our groins, then looked back into my eyes and smiled.

She stepped back, put a finger across her lips to indicate that I was to maintain my silence, then she turned and walked into the darkness. As she walked away from me I couldn’t take my eyes of the beauty of her thighs, I could see easily through the taught material just how toned, how perfectly sculpted her body was; the buttocks that sat atop her thighs, I cannot even begin to describe them. The catsuit clung to every curve of her bottom, and the material sunk deep in between her cheeks, and looked as though it could easily have been vacuum moulded against her skin, as though it could even extend into her body and cover her insides. But that last thought, or flight of imagination, was driven by the intoxication she had made me fall victim to, and by the pain and pleasure that I felt still burning in my cock, and still tingling down my sides where she had just moments before caressed my skin.

She disappeared between the two candles at the far end of the room. It looked as though she had walked right through the blackened wall, but I realized there must have been a curtain there which she had moved behind. I wondered what was in store for me next, what pleasures, what pains, what experiences I was going to undergo in the hours to come.

I didn’t have to wonder for long about what some of the things Madam had in store might entail; whilst I was still hanging on the wall alone lights suddenly came on across the ceiling. After finding my eyes initially stunned by the change in light, they quickly adjusted to take in all that lay around me. Every surface was covered with implements, with devices that looked both sinister and sexual at the same time. These implements were complimented by bondage chairs, racks, medical chairs, electro equipment, everything you could thing of that was even mildly BDSM related was present in that room.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Note from author: This was written after receiving a phone call from a wrong number and a few minutes later the gentleman called me again because he liked the sound of my voice. With no clue as to his name, his appearance, or even his race, I wrote this fantasy based strictly on the sound of his deep, bass voice and the way it truly sent shivers up my spine as we visited. I hope you enjoy.

Imagine.

We are lying naked in my bed. You move your mouth and hands to my tits and begin to kiss and nibble and bite all around both of them at your leisure. I imagine you massaging them deeply, enough to make me wince – but not to cry out. As you move your fingers to my nipples and pinch them mightily, the intent is to pull them towards my chin so your teeth can explore the tender undersides of my breasts. You are straddled across my lower tummy. My nipples begin to slip from your fingers – you grab your whole fist full of tits in each hand and squeeze and tug you fingers back into an extremely firm pinch of the nipples. You feel my pelvis moving in response.

Pinching my nipples between thumbs and forefingers, you use the rest of your hands to run along the outsides of my tits and push them together. Moving up my tummy and straddling my lower chest you begin to move your rock hard cock between my tits. My hands move to your ass as I rub and massage your cheeks with determination. With my head propped on a pillow, you tease my mouth with the head of your cock before slipping away back through my tits. Twirling my nipples in your pinch, you move your cock between my tits, loving the expressions that cross my face, creating moans and gasps of breath from my lungs. My mouth open, reaching for your cock – winces of pain as you torment my nipples – my eyes soft with hungry passion as you feel my hips moving in time with your cock between my tits. My fingers slide within the crease between your ass cheeks and I pull you to my mouth with each upstroke of your hips.

Abandoning my tits, you reach for the bars of my headboard as you bury your cock in my mouth. Relaxing my throat, I use my hands grabbing your ass to pull you deep into my mouth. As you pull out, I bury a finger from each hand into your ass as deeply as possible and pull you back into my mouth – again and again and again and again. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the sensations are more than you can handle and with wonderful sighs and moans and deep breaths you shoot down my throat an explosion that rocks you completely into shudders from knees to shoulders. You try to stay still in my mouth to savor your climax, but my fingers are still inside your ass – my hands are still gripping your ass – I pull you out just enough to keep your overly sensitive head in my mouth and I begin to tongue your head with circles, completely, all around. You break out into a fresh sweat and involuntarily pull completely out of my mouth – feeling the pressure of my fingers move deep inside your ass because of your movement.

I pull the head of your cock back into my mouth, and firmly place my teeth along the rim and ridge of your cock to hold you in place, which makes you freeze. Again, I tongue your still sensitive head which makes you feel – what? Do you want to roar like a lion? Do you want to collapse against the headboard? Do you want to push down my throat until you reach that gag reflex? Whatever movement you make, my response is to tighten my teeth around the head of your huge cock, hold you in place, as I tongue the circle of your head and now I begin to tongue the hole at the tip of your cock and attempt to lick inside your penis.

Our eyes meet and a new expression crosses your face, this time. You smile at me. You relax your withdrawal and begin to move in my mouth – ever so slowly. You deliberately and pointedly look at your watch. Meeting my eyes again, with your silky, deep voice you tell me that for every minute I keep your cock hostage – you will spank my bottom an equal number of minutes. My eyes widen with challenge and I begin to truly show your cock much attention. Without losing your cock, I remove my hands from your ass and wipe them with a washcloth from the bedside table. Bringing my hands to your balls, I begin to play with that area between your balls and your ass. I squeeze and scratch your balls gently; alibeyköy escort I hold the base of your cock and stroke it while I continue to suck your head with enthusiasm. I close my eyes and time stops in my mind as I concentrate fully on sucking your wonderful cock and balls and eventually – after who knows how much time – I receive the benefit of your second explosion in my mouth and am able to really taste you on my tongue this time rather than simply swallowing your liquid as I did before. I gently allow you out of my mouth and tongue you from tip to base as I clean you up a bit. I open my eyes and look up at you. You deliberately look at your watch again and I remember your promise. With a challenge in my eyes, I tell you to give me your best. You begin.

Lying on my back, I reach my arms over my head and stretch with self-satisfaction at knowing I’ve just made you come twice – without using anything below my waist. You use this opportunity to roll to your side, prop your head in one hand, and gently run the fingers of your other hand along my front from my neck across my breasts, along my rib cage, across my tummy to my hips and back again creating delicious shivers within me.

Almost absent-mindedly you palm my nipples hard and tease the front of me while you look around my room and take in the details of the murals painted on my walls. You notice the way I’ve added four 4X4 posts to my waterbed, the way I’ve built rails along each top of the sides, the way I’ve drilled holes into those rails for the thick 2″ dowel rods to pass through across the width of the bed – from above the headboard, along the ceiling of the four posters, down to the footboard of the bed. You gently twist and twirl my nipples as you notice the way I’ve draped coordinating, sheer fabric in and out of the dowels from the footboard, drooping through the dowels across the ceiling, and in and out of the dowels of the headboard.

Tucking your feet inside my knees, you spread my legs as you begin to pinch my nipples and notice the subtle responses your ministrations are creating within me. With a deliberately hard tug and pinch which creates a gasp of breath in me, you notice the way I’ve knotted each of the lengths of fabric to each of the dowel rungs as it passes in and out of them. You notice the several feet of fabric lengths draping from the bottom dowel to the floor, both at the head and the foot of the bed, and the secure way those knots are particularly fastened to the dowels. Moving up, you straddle me momentarily, nip my tits with your teeth in passing, as you look over the edge and see the way I’ve fastened the posts to the bed with metal brackets hidden under the bed. You reach out with your hand and give the post a good yank expecting something – nothing moves. I watch your muscles expand and contract with your effort as I see your thoughts in your eyes. You are impressed as you admire the solidness of the frame, the dressings, and the fabric.

Straddling my tummy, you reach for the piece of fabric hanging down next to the corner post of the bed. Tickling my tits with the end of it, you reach for my hand opposite the corner the fabric came from and stretch my arm across my body, up the length of fabric, and wrap it around my wrist several times then secure it with a knot. Looking down at me you see approval in my eyes. Taking the fabric from the opposite headboard corner and taking my other hand, you secure my second wrist across my body in such a way that, at your leisure – when you’re ready – whenever you want, you may flip me to my stomach with my arms spread above my head, wrists secured to appropriate corner lengths of fabric. With my arms bound and secure – with a look of soft passion in my eyes – you look down at these 44Cs, noticing the way they perk up a bit because of the way my arms are crossed over my head, and begin your assault in earnest.

Reaching to the bedside table you remove my cloverleaf clamps and position them onto my nipples, gently, carefully, precisely where you want them and feel my hips behind you jerk in response, as you listen to my intake and exhale of breath. You move down my body, slowly, teasingly, dragging your hard cock across my belly button and across the hair between my legs. Shifting sefaköy escort yourself between them, you hold my smooth shaven legs just below the knees, bend them, and spread my legs completely. Watching my most private area, already soaked and dripping, you move your hands down the inside of my thighs with small pinches while using your elbows to keep my knees spread.

Breathing the scent of me, your cock throbbing with want to enter me, you begin to tug the hairs between my legs while watching and listening to the varied responses you create within me. Gently untangling my curls, you pull the hairs until my lips separate. You take your time. You’re in no hurry. You love tormenting me. Reaching down to nip the insides of my thighs with your teeth, you tug my hair not so gently and watch my hips respond, begging for more. Unable to delay your curiosity any longer, you begin to taste me with gusto. Treating me like a meal, you chew my lips as if you were truly trying to eat me alive.

Pushing a thumb into my pussy, you bring my wetness back to my backside. Again and again and again you bring my wetness to my ass. Lifting your eyes to watch my reaction brings your unshaven, stubbly chin into contact with my clit. As you push your thumb into my ass, you feel my involuntary rubbing against your chin and give me more pressure to rub against. Faster and harder I fuck your chin. My instincts want to contract my muscles and close my legs as I reach for your chin, but your hands move to my knees again and keep me open to your attention. Matching my movements, you move your chin in small circles increasing pressure against me. With a single finger you reach up my body and hook it around the chain of my clamps and gently pull, as your chin fucks my clit, until I reach my climax and shiver and tingle from head to foot. You move down to taste and drink your fill, burying your face in my wetness.

After cleaning me up, when my noises have subsided somewhat, you sit back on your haunches and look up at me flushed and sated. Noticing my nipples still clamped, a rich purple color from the blood constriction, you smile inwardly knowing that I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen next. Checking my arms for direction – crossing my legs in front of you appropriately, you get a good grip on my hips, pull me hard to you and flip me to my stomach. You listen to my screech as my over-sensitized nipples scrape across the sheets of the bed and then bear my weight pressing into the mattress. You grin, watching me closely, as I breathe deeply processing the pain, getting a handle on it. With all sincerity and caring, you ask me if I’m okay – if I want you to remove them. I want to say yes, remove them – but I’m also curious as to your plans, curious as to my limits, curious as to how much I really can take. I shake my head no – I tell you I’m okay, just give me a sec.

Getting off of the bed, you take the washcloth I used earlier into the bathroom, rinse it out and warm it up, then bring it back to the bedroom and standing beside the bed you wipe well the crease of my ass – preparing it for your attention. With your wonderful deep-timbered voice you begin to tell me your naughty plans for me. Taking my hairbrush from my dresser and moving back to the bedside, you set the brush on the mattress within easy reach and lift my hips into the air and put me on my knees, placing even more pressure on my chest, on my nipples. You give me a few seconds more to process. Touching my pussy, you feel my wetness still there – bending over tasting me again – and then tell me what you’re going to do with that wetness.

But first, you owe me a spanking and you check your watch. Not fully knowing my expectations, your first swat with your hand is more playful then serious and creates little reaction in me. In fact, you notice my tenseness leaves a bit as I relax and prepare to accept your playfulness. Your next few swats get progressively harder and again you notice my involuntary response as I lift my ass asking for more. You’ve positioned my knees and legs so that my ass cheeks are spread and open to your view. Using the hair brush now, you watch my ass begin to turn pink, noticing the winces I begin to show, you begin to really enjoy this process. Continuing halkalı escort the spanking according to your own plan, you notice my flinches have turned to whimpers. You’re fascinated by the pink color of my ass turning to a dull red. Giving equal treatment to both cheeks, they heat up beneath your attention. You switch back and forth using the brush sometimes, using your hands sometimes. Slapping and smacking and watching me, you watch my responses; you listen to me.

You ignore the stinging in your hands and spank even harder. You have a wicked understanding of that connection between pain and pleasure for me. Your cock is rock hard. Your cock responds to the stinging in your hands, the color of my ass, and the motions of spanking me, the sounds of my whimpering. You check your watch. No …… you can’t enter me yet. You promised the spanking for a specific number of minutes. You feel frustration because you can’t fuck my sweet ass yet, so using the brush you spank me harder. The dull red turns to a bright red. Again and again – swat, swat, swat, swat … You ignore my tears which have started, knowing the pleasure obtained from the pain. You notice I’ve grabbed the fabric you tied me with in my hands, my face sideways on the pillow, my ass straining as high as possible reaching for your attention. You check your watch again – okay now – you count down the seconds of the final minute in your head. Mindlessly, your swats almost match the countdown you’re thinking. My tears have turned into a full soft cry – but you are focused on that final second approaching when you can fuck me to your heart’s content. Swat – 10, 9 – swat – 8, 7 – swat 6, 5 – swat 4, 3 – swat – 2, 1; then a final swat for good measure. On your knees behind me, you touch my pussy with the tip of your cock and revel in my wetness. With your tip against my clit, you bring your cock back to my entrance. Pulling my hips you plunge into me full tilt again and again and again, feeling whatever sensation you feel in finally fucking a sopping pussy. Exploding inside me – you give my ass another swat with your hand, just because it’s there.

Inside my pussy, your cock is still hard and slick. Grabbing some oil from the table and spreading the cheeks of my ass with your hands you drip the lube along my crease and using a finger, then two, you prepare the inside of me. You bring your slick cock to the entrance of my ass and push gently until your head slides inside. Somewhere outside the realm of your sensations you hear me begging, “Go slow – let me get used to you – please go slow.” With your sexy, deep voice that sends shivers up my spine you tell me, “I am going to fuck your ass completely and fully.” Slipping back into my pussy, using a bit more oil, you come back to my ass and slip in further. Pushing your cock one more time in my pussy and back to my ass again, this time you pull my hips and enter me completely and fully. Just for the pure pleasure of being inside my red-hot ass – you swat me again – and again – and again. Feeling my tightness around you, feeling my Keagles contract and relax, pulling out until just your head is inside my rim and re-entering me fully, you fuck my ass hard, and spank my bottom, to your own natural rhythm. Imagining whatever you want in your head, you fuck my ass to a mind-shattering, body-shuddering completion. With a deep satisfied sigh, staying inside my ass, you reach up and untie my wrists. Lying down behind me, rolling us to our sides, you push deeper into my ass not wanting to lose me.

Knowing my nipples have been clamped much longer than my normal 30 minute limit, you very carefully, very gently, very lovingly press the releases and one by one remove the clamps, enjoying my sounds and cries, gasps and whimpers of immense pain as the blood rushes back into each nipple. You kiss the back of my neck and my cheek in understanding. With your fingers to my chin you bring my face to yours and kiss my tears away, then kiss me. Lifting my upper knee and locking your leg under mine to keep me spread, you snuggle my back against your chest with my head on your arm. You take my hand and guide it between my legs. You move your hands to my tits and begin to gently play with my tortured nipples. Starting with soft gentle circles and moving to strong pinches, pulls, and twists – your voice talks to me about my hand rubbing myself. Your words egg me on, your cock in my ass fills me with pressure, my fingers rub circles around my wet clit, harder and faster until I come and I press hard against your cock in my ass. You continue to hurt my tits and make my nipples burn as I ride the crest for as long as possible.

Imagine.

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