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The palace was a hive of activity. La Contessa has returned from her country estate outside Padua to her town palace in Venice for the week. Her palace, overlooking Canale Rigolleto with views of the dome of San Marco, is one of the finest in 18th century Venice. She has announced that she is going to hold a party. Not a grand one, like her famous masquerade balls, but a smaller intimate party for a select group of her confidantes. La Contessa’s parties were renowned throughout Venice as being some one of the most risque and erotic events in the city and for those in that social circle who favoured the sexual and bizarre it was a great privelege to be invited.

I am relatively new to the Contessa’s household and have not yet had the experience of serving at any of her parties. Although only a small gathering the household is busy making preparations. The Contessa is very particular and it is important to her that all of her parties have the right ambience. Everything, the decoration of her salon, the lighting, the food, the music, her dress and that of her servants must be exactly as she desires. The success and reputation of her parties is founded on this attention to detail. She is an exacting mistress and her servants know they will be punished if her every word is not carried out precisely, as I have already found to my cost.

It is approaching the time her guests are due to arrive when I receive an instruction from the head of La Contessa’s household. I am to attend La Contessa herself, in her boudoir, where she is dressing and preparing herself for the party. This is the first time I have been summoned to attend my mistress personally and I am both nervous and curious as to know why I have been called and what tasks La Contessa will expect of me.

When I enter her boudoir La Contessa is sat at her dressing table with her back to the door. She is attended by two servant girls who have been assisting with her dressing. After I have entered the room, she turns in her chair.

“Come over here servant and let me take a closer look at you,” she pronounces with an icy tone of voice.

I move forward and she appraises me quickly with a contemptuous glance.

“You are new to my employment, aren’t you? Are you still innocent of what goes on at my parties?”

“Ma’m, I confess to hearing rumours from other household servants but none of the staff will give any details about your parties,” I reply.

“Good, that is because those who participate are sworn to secrecy on pain of very severe punishment, which I will have no hesitation in administering if I hear that any of the secrets of my parties are divulged. You will do,” she says dismissively. “I have chosen you to be part of the entertainment for my party. Go away and take a bath so that you are fresh and clean for my guests, then return to me in thirty minutes. After you enter my boudoir you will remove your bath robe so that you are naked and then kneel before me. Do you understand slave?”

“Yes M’am,” I reply.

“Good, you are dismissed now.”

As I return to the servant’s quarters to bathe myself I am nervous about what plans La Contessa has for me. The pay for servants in the mistress’s household is very good, but when you are chosen to enter her employment, it is made clear that complete loyalty to La Contessa is required and that you will be expected to serve whatever her will is. I am aware that includes all manner of physical punishment and mental humiliation. Now that I have been asked to serve the Contessa directly I am apprehensive at what she might desire to use me for. I carry out her instructions exactly and bathe myself.

I do not have long to dwell on these thoughts. The half hour goes quickly and it does not seem long before I am tentatively knocking on La Contessa’s boudoir door.

“Enter servant,” she commands.

I enter her room. Her servant girls have now gone and she is alone, still sat at her dressing table, but with her chair turned to face me. I drop my bath robe onto the floor so that I am completely naked, walk towards her and kneel in front of her.

Her voice is severe and uncompromising, “You will be the entertainment for my guests tonight. This is a great privelege for you. I expect complete obedience from you. You will follow any instructions from me or any of my guests exactly. You will not address me or any of my guests unless you are spoken to. To do otherwise will be considered the height of rudeness and will be punished accordingly. You will assume the role of slave and submit to whatever pleases myself or my guests. I trust this is quite clear.”

“Yes, m’am,” I reply in a faltering and nervous voice.

“First, I need to collar you, to show that when in my presence you are no more than a pet. In fact, I treat my dogs with more attention and respect than I would ever do one of my servants.”

She takes a leather collar from her dressing table, puts it around my neck and buckles the collar tightly. Then she takes a lead and xslot attaches it to the collar.

“First, you must be humiliated in front of all the other household staff, so that you, and they, know what your place is. You will walk to heel and follow behind me on all fours.”

La Contessa stands up and walks towards the door, giving the lead a sharp jerk, to make sure that I follow. I immediately get down on my hands and knees and crawl behind her. We go down the corridor to the main staircase of the palace. At the bottom of the stairs all of the household are lined up, ready to serve and attend at the Contessa’s party. I am made to crawl on all fours down the stairs and then past the silent stares of all of the Contessa’s staff who stand on either side forming a corridor of humiliation for me. La Contessa leads me into her salon.

The salon is a large room but much smaller and more intimate than the palace’s ballroom where La Contessa holds her grand masked balls. The salon is decorated ornately in a baroque style with rich colours and gold leaf. Most striking though is La Contessa’s collection of erotic art work from all over the world that adorns the walls. There are tapestries and wall hangings that depict naked Greek Gods and Goddesses in scenes of sexual intimacy. On another wall are sketches from India showing extreme sexual acts of sodomy and fellatio. In alcoves there are sculptures of naked men and women entwined in sexual acts. The whole salon exudes an air of richness and decadence. In the centre of the room is a dais and by its side a large wooden chest with sliver clasps and in front of La Contessa’s throne a bench covered in red leather and suspended by chains. A four piece chamber orchestra is sat in a bay window patiently waiting for La Contessa’s orders to play.

La Contessa mounts the dais and sits imperiously on top of it. She is dressed in a stunning gown of scarlet taffeta and silks. Her corset is pulled tight to expose her ample cleavage. Her dark hair is swept back and decorated with pearls. She wears a golden mask adorned with feathers dyed in green and red. She is beautiful woman with a commanding presence and a tone of voice that implores you to obey her.

I am made to crouch at the foot of the dais, still collared, with my mistress holding the lead.

“My guests may enter now and pay homage to me,” she calls to one of her servants by the door.

La Contessa’s guests enter the salon. It is a small party – there are only eight guests. They are a stunning sight. They are all dressed in cloaks and hoods of crushed velvet in rich dark hues, dark blues, rich reds, purples, indigos and maroons. They are all wearing pure white silk gloves. Lastly, the faces of all the guests are hidden by plain white masks each with a different expression. La Contessa must have given precise instructions as to the dress code for her party and the effect is stunning. The strangest thing is that, dressed as they are in similar loose fitting cloaks and masks, it is impossible to tell which guests are male and which female.

One by one each guest comes forward to La Contessa on her dais. She holds her hand out and the guest is permitted to gently touch her hand with their masked lips.

“Thank you for coming to my party. I hope you will enjoy the entertainment and pleasures that I have laid on for you. Join together in pairs and dance. Let the party begin,” she exclaims.

On that prompt the four musicians start to play. The guests form couples and start to dance around the dais where La Contessa sits and around myself still crouched obediantly at her feet. It is a magical and intoxicating sight as the cloaked figures twirl around me.

Then La Contessa claps her hands. The orchestra stops playing, the couples halt their dance and the pair immediately in front of La Contessa come towards her.

“This servant has just entered my employ and needs to learn the arts of subservience. For this evening he is our entertainment, a toy that we can play with for our own amusement and pleasure. I think this guest needs his or her boots cleaning,” La Contessa says gesturing to one of the figures before her.

“Make yourself useful and kneel before her and use your toungue to lick them clean”.

I nervously crawl forward. The guest hitches up the cloak to reveal a pair of brown ankle boots of soft Italian leather. I stroke my tounge gently up to top edge of the boot, then move back down to work my tounge back up the boot again. Meanwhile the other guests have all gathered round to watch me undertake this demeaning and humiliating task.

The masked guest turns to La Contessa. It is a woman’s voice that rings out.

“Contessa, this is hopeless. I think that if you wish to maintain the hard earned reputation of your parties you must find slaves who can enter into their tasks more thoroughly. I expect my boots to be licked clean more enthusiastically than this.”

La Contessa replies, “You are absolutely right. I cannot xslot Giriş have my guests offended by such dilatory service. Servant, get on all fours and spread your legs whilst you perform this task.” She turns to her other guest and says, “I think he needs some punishment to encourage him. Kick him in the balls whilst he performs this task.”

I feel a crushing blow of leather boot on my balls and gasp in pain.

“Servant, did anyone tell you to stop your task while you were being punished. No, they didn’t did they? Keep cleaning my guest’s boots and don’t stop until you are commanded to.”

This time I work my tounge up the leather harder and faster. I receive another kick in the balls from the other guest. This time, even though the pain is excruciating, I try not to let it distract me from the task at hand. I keep working my tounge up and down the leather boots and every so often receive another kick in the balls from the other guest. This carries on for some time until eventually La Contessa orders me to stop. She turns to her guest.

“Are you satisfied with this service yet?” she asks.

The guest answers, “Yes, I think this will do. After a poor start I think your servant has cleaned my boots quite thoroughly.”

La Contessa leans down from her dais to examine the boots.

“I think you are being very generous. I still think he needs to be punished some more so that next time he realizes he must carry out his tasks with more enthusiasm from the start. Kick him in the balls some more to teach him a lesson.”

At first I feel several gentle blows to my balls from the other guest’s boot. Then, the intensity builds up as the blows get gradually faster and more intense until I am in agony and feel my balls throbbing with every kick.

“That will be enough for now. Change partners and let us have some more dancing.”

On that command the music starts up again and the robed masked figures start their parade around La Contessa and myself again. After some more dancing La Contessa claps her hand and once again the pair of guests in front of her come forward.

“I think that if we are all going to get enjoyment out of this servant he needs to be tied down so he is completely at our mercy.”

A man’s voice replies from behind the mask, “Yes, Contessa, I agree. We like to see our slaves tied down and defenceless so that we can do whatever we like with them. We will perform this task for you so that your servant is prepared for our pleasure for the rest of the evening.”

The two guests hold out a hand each and lift me up from my crouching position at La Contessa’s feet. They lead me over to the red covered bench which is susupended by chains from the ceiling and lay me down upon it, their masked faces leaning over me. Then, they work together to secure me to the bench. The guest that spoke up gestures for me to raise my legs up against the chain. He secures leg spreaders to my ankle and chains and locks me to the hanging chain. At the same time the other guest is chaining and locking my arms down into place against the bench. Finally, together, they pull ropes through hooks on the side of the bench and tie me tightly with soft ropes. Now I am no longer able to move and I know that I am at the complete mercy of La Contessa and her guests.

“Excellent. Now that my servant is prepared, change partners, and let us have another dance.”

The sound of the violins and cello swell up around me. Once again the velvet cloaked bodies swirl around the room, sometimes so close to where I am tied that I can feel the lightest brush of the soft material against me. The same ritual is repeated with La Contessa clapping her hands and two guest coming forward whilst the others gather around the bench to watch proceedings.

La Contessa speaks again, “Now my servant must pass through the trial of fire and ice.”

A female voice calls out, “I will administer the ice Contessa,” and then a male voice echoes, “And I will adminster the fire.”

One of the guests moves forward. She is carrying a small pouch out of which she takes out a handful of crushed ice into her silk gloved hands. She holds the handful of ice against my cock. At first I am startled as I feel the intense cold sensation against such a sensitive part of my body. But, she continues to press the pack of ice hard against my cock and the feeling increasingly becomes one of burning. I squirm and moan as the intensity of the pain builds up. I hear La Contessa and then her guests, who are all watching my humiliation intently, start to laugh at me. Just as the guest with the female voice withdraws, the guest with the male voice approaches holding a a thick candle in an ornate candelabra.

“This should be amusing for us all,” he says. “Let us see how he squirms when the hot wax touches his ice cold prick.”

La Contessa leans forward, “don’t hold back, hold the candle close to his cock so the heat of the wax is at its most intense.”

The xslot Güncel Giriş candle is held over me, so close that I can feel the heat of the flame against my skin and then the hot molten liquid is poured onto the tip of cock. This time I let out not just a moan but a squeal of surprise and pain as the shock of the heat on my cold penis hits me and then the heat of the molten wax penetrates me in waves, a feeling that is both painful but also deliciously exhilerating all at the same time. Then I get another shock. I had been concentrating on the attention being given to my cock but suddenly I feel the icy silken hand of the female guest press ice against my nipples. The two guests work together alternating the ice and hot wax on these most sensitive parts of my body.

“There’s nothing quite like seeing a slave squirm with pain and discomfort that has been inflicted by his mistress,” one female guest laughs.

A male voice replies, “he almost looks as those he’s enjoying it now he’s got used to the sensations”.

At that, La Contessa immediately intervenes.

“I can’t have that. He’s not here to receive pleasure, he is here to entertain me and my party guests. Anyway we need to get the wax off now.”

La Contessa reaches into her box and pulls out two whips and passes them to another two of her guests.

“Hit him hard on his cock and balls and nipples until all the hardened wax has been whipped off.”

The two guests set about me, one whipping me on the cock and balls, the other on my already sensitive nipples. I scream out in pain.

“We can’t have that noise disturbing our fun, I think you ought to shut him up Contessa,” says one of her guests.

“Yes,” she replies, “it is for servants to suffer their punishments in quiet dignity not to disturb our peace and draw attention to themselves.”

La Contessa herself pulls another object out of her box and steps down from her dais. She dangles the object in front of my eyes and smiles cruelly down at me. It is a ball gag, with a ball made in leather and a leather strap. She lifts my head and tells me to open wide, puts the ball in my mouth and then fastens the strap behind my head. The ball fills my mouth so that the only sound I can summon is a muffled grunt.

“That’s better, now you can carrying on whipping him without any disturbance.”

The two guests continue their whipping, the strokes getting harder and more frequent. There is no protest or complaint that I can make, I am completely under their and La Contessa’s control and have to accept the punishment given to me.

Eventually, all of the wax has been whipped off and my nipples, cock and balls are red and throbbing with the pain of the punishment administered to them.

“Stop now, choose another partner, and we will do some more dancing,” La Contessa anounces.

The guests pair up again and start to dance a stately serenade around the salon in time to the chamber music. My head is spinning with the intensity of the experience whilst the cloaked and masked bodies dance gracefully around me.

La Contessa claps her hands again, another two of her guests step forward.

“Now, let us prepare this slave for a test of his endurance before we go for the feast that has been prepared for you all.”

La Contessa hands out more objects to her guests.

“I am sure you know what to do with these,” she says.

“Yes, Contessa,” says a female voice.

“Yes, Contessa,” echoes a male voice, “we will make him suffer with these for your and our amusement.”

The male slave starts to tie my cock and balls up tightly. At the same time the female slave puts some clamps on my nipples, nipples that are already sore from ice, hot wax and a whip. The pain is intense, but I can make no response, I am completely at her mercy. When the clamps are secured she squeezes them tightly between her fingers. My body jerks, straining against my restraints. The pain is excruciating.

“I think that hurt a little bit,” the guest laughs and the laughs are echoed across the salon.

The male guest has the thin rope strapped tightly around my balls and cock and now he is threading it through a pulley that is above the bench. He pulls the ropes hard and then ties a lead weight onto the end of them so that my cock and balls are pulled up erect and stretched. The female guest has done something similar at the other end of my body, so that the nipple clamps are being pulled by another lead weight. Then, to finish off, another guest starts to apply pegs onto my stretched cock and balls. The pain is intense. Yet, because I know there is no way out of my predicament, I try to endure the punishment and humiliation.

La Contessa stands up and steps down from her dais. She approaches me and then announces to her guests.

“Now it is time for feasting. Whilst this miserable slave will be left to suffer we will remove to my dining room. Whilst we are drinking fine wine and eating a splendid feast that I have laid on for you, this worthless servant will be left in isolation until we return, fed and refreshed, to take him to new levels of pain and humiliation.”

At this La Contessa strides towards the door of the salon with her guests following.

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

(As a number of astute readers have pointed out, the names of my characters in the original version of this story got mixed up. This version corrects that.)

The party was getting boring and I was getting tired. It was almost 11:00 p.m. I started to move toward the door when I noticed, for the first time, a lady dressed in an inviting black skirt and sheer white blouse that revealed a pretty white-laced bra beneath. I caught her eye and, surprisingly, she smiled at me. I think I blushed.

Moving toward her, past a few revelers, I got a closer look. She was stunning. A clear, milky-white complexion. Long auburn hair. Deep blue eyes. An engaging smile. Perfect teeth. A cute pug nose. She was holding a glass of red wine.

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said. “I’m David…”

“David Reynolds,” she interrupted.

I was startled. “How do you know my name?”

“I asked someone,” she replied with a coy smile. “I’m Sarah. Sarah Haney.”

“Well, I’m please to meet you, Sarah.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Reynolds.”

I wondered why she didn’t address me by my first name, but there was something quite pleasing about her formality. We spent the next half hour finding out about each other. She was an attorney, apparently well-to-do. Soft spoken. She liked to laugh. When she talked to me, her eyes seemed to go through mine. She had a habit I especially liked— she lightly touched my arm from time to time to make a point.

When she finished her glass of wine I asked her if I could get her another. “I’d prefer a martini,” she said.

“On the rocks?”

“I prefer to make my own,” she replied.

“I’ll be glad to help you.”

“I should hope so,” she laughed. “Would you be kind enough to go upstairs and get my coat?”

I looked at her with a bewildered look. “I thought you wanted a martini.”

“I do. But I have the perfect ingredients at my residence, Mr. Reynolds.”

I was stunned. There was no doubt about what she meant. “I… I thought you said you were married.”

She laughed again. “I am. Is there anything wrong with a drink between friends?”

It was my turn to smile broadly. “No, of course not.”

“My coat is the half-length black leather coat in the closet near the front door.”

I retrieved her coat and helped her into it. The leather was unbelievably supple. “Thank you,” she said. “You are a gentleman, Mr. Reynolds. I am driving the white Maxima out front. Why don’t you follow me.”

She led the way. It was my first real opportunity to steal a glance at her legs. They were perfect, like the rest of her. Long and sleek. I wondered if I would get a chance to see more of them later.”

Her house was a dream. Tastefully decorated. Well maintained. She threw her coat over a chair near the door as I followed her in. I placed mine on top of it.

“The bar is in the rec room downstairs, Mr. Reynolds.”

I followed her again. Her exquisite ass strained against the tight black skirt. She had to have known I was looking at it.

The rec room was just as beautiful as the rest of the house, occupying the entire basement. A pool table with a bright green cover over it was in the middle of the room. The bar was stacked with a wide variety of liquors.

“May I get you something, Mr. Reynolds?”

“I’ll have what you are having, Sarah.”

“I make a really mean martini,” she laughed. “How do you like yours?”

“On the rocks, with a lemon twist.”

I watched her make two drinks. Hers was straight up, with an olive. She handed me mine and moved to a tan leather sofa. Politely, I waited for her to be seated. She crossed her legs demurely. I sat next to her.

“I guess your husband is not at home,” I said, somewhat nervously.

She laughed, obviously aware of my nervousness. “He’s away on a month-long business trip to Singapore. He just left yesterday.”

We chatted for at least an hour. Her seemingly innocuous touches continued throughout the conversation, sometimes on my forearm, sometimes on my thigh. I was growing more and more enamored with her as the evening wore on. Just as I was wondering if I should make a move, she shifted her body toward me and brought her face closer to mine. “You have very informative eyes,” she said. “I can tell a lot about a man from his eyes.”

Suddenly she leaned forward and kissed me, her hand moving stealthily to the back of my head. The kiss, light at first, kindled into passion. When her tongue sought mine, I thought I was in heaven. My erection was instantaneous. When she broke the kiss, she looked down at the obvious bulge in my pants.

I blushed.

“We’ve awakened a sleeping giant, I see.”

“I don’t know about the ‘giant’ part,” I said. “But it sure isn’t sleeping.”

She laughed. “I am glad to see you are easily aroused. I like that in a man.”

I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I was already picturing her naked body in a satin- covered bed.

“I didn’t bring you home, Mr. Reynolds, merely for drinks and conversation.”

I smiled. “You xslot had an ulterior motive?” I asked coyly.

“Exactly. Stand up in front of me.” Her words were more like a order from a drill sergeant than a sexy request, but I complied. “Lower your zipper,” she commanded.

Her eyes were glued to my crotch as I pulled the zipper down.

“Take your cock out, Mr. Reynolds.”

I reached inside and somehow managed to disengage my penis from inside my underpants, allowing my erection to poke skyward from the “V” of my lowered fly.

“Move your hand out of the way. Give me a better look.”

I moved my hand away from the front of my pants. I felt foolish standing there with a solid-gold erection in front of a woman I hardly knew, but was beginning to fall for in a big (no pun intended) way. She stared at my cock for at least a minute, studying it like a child with a schoolbook. I waited for her to reach out and touch it.

“Masturbate.”

I looked at her dumbfoundedly. “What?” I asked incredulously.

“Make it come for me,” she said in that same commanding voice.

This was insane. “I… I…”

“Sorry. You are taking too long, Mr. Reynolds. Let me show you to the door.”

She arose from the sofa, being careful when she uncrossed her legs not to give me too much of a glimpse between them.

“I don’t understand,” I said, already feeling a deep sense of disappointment.

“It’s very simple, Mr. Reynolds. I do not permit hesitation when I ask someone to do something. You may put that thing back in your pants and get your coat.”

Her tone was obvious. I eased my now half-hard erection into my pants and zippered back up. Retrieving my coat from the chair, she showed me to the door.

I turned toward her as I left. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I would like to see you again. Please.”

The look on her face was cold as ice. “I doubt that that will ever happen, Mr. Reynolds. Good evening.”

The sound of the door closing behind me hurt terribly. I went home and hardly slept. I had become infatuated with this beautiful woman. The next morning, a Saturday, I looked up her telephone number in the phone book. Thankfully it was not unlisted. Her sexy voice was on an answering machine.

“Sarah. This is David. If you are there, please pick up.”

Silence.

“Sarah, please call me. 344-5428.”

A day went by. No call. I called again on Sunday. Answering machine again. I left the same message with one difference—the “please” was more like a pleading.

Still no return phone call. I guess I gave up and realized this dream of a woman would never be in my arms.

Just after dinner on the following Saturday, my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Reynolds?”

“Yes! Sarah???”

“I think you are worth one more chance. There was potential there.”

“I am sorry if I offended you,” I blurted.

“You didn’t offend me at all, Mr. Reynolds. You disobeyed me. If you can follow simple commands, then you are welcome to drop this evening.”

“I… I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will. That’s why I am inviting you over. BUT—if you even hesitate for a brief second when I ask you to do something, the evening will be over immediately. Is that understood?”

Domineering was too light a word for this woman, but I was so drawn to her that I readily agreed.

I knocked on her door and it was opened by a maid dressed in a typical maid’s uniform, black with a white apron. I was surprised to see the maid. She was quite pretty, perhaps 24 or 25 years old.

“You are Mr. Reynolds?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Haney is downstairs. I will show you to her.”

I followed the maid to the recreation room that I had failed Sarah in. She was sitting on the same sofa, dressed this time in a totally black, form-fitting dress that almost took my breath away. She seemed more beautiful than I remembered her. “Thank you, Pricilla,” she said.

Pricilla turned and went back upstairs. Sarah smiled. “Welcome back, Mr. Reynolds. I trust we can come to better terms on your return trip.”

I felt that familiar blush. “I hope so.”

“Mr. Reynolds, you were dismissed last week because you felt a need to disobey me. You must understand that when I ask you to do something… anything… anything at all, it will be done without question, without hesitation. The second I feel you are incapable of that requirement, you will be asked to leave again. Only this time, you will never be invited to return. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now come closer to me.”

I moved toward her. She was like a magnet. I was drawn to her in a way I had never been drawn to any woman. Had she cast some kind of spell on me? It was almost uncanny.

Suddenly she stared at my crotch. “Take it out again,” she said in a firm voice.

My mind raced for a fleeting moment, wondering why she would do this with her maid in another room. As I lowered my fly, I looked at her and said, “It’s not hard yet, Sarah.”

“That xslot Giriş is fine. I like to watch a cock get hard. I am sure we can achieve that state in just a few moments. And, Mr. Reynolds, until you are told otherwise, you are to address me as ‘Mistress.'”

“Yes, Mistress.” What the hell had I gotten myself into?

I took my penis out. She watched as it hung limply. “You have a gorgeous cock, Mr. Reynolds. I saw the ‘after’ last week, and I like the ‘before’ just as well.” She stared at it while my face turned a thousand shades of red.

“You may make it hard now, Mr. Reynolds.” I reached down and slowly stroked myself into an erection. It was surprisingly easy. I stood in front of her, stroking myself, while she watched intently. “Very nice,” she almost cooed. “I like your cock very much. I think we can find some interesting things to do with it.”

I was hoping she would.

“Bring it closer and take your hand away.”

I stepped toward her as she leaned forward, my penis only inches from her face. Suddenly she reached inside my pants and gathered my testicles. Gently, she extracted them from the confines of my underpants and drew them outside into the night air. Her touch was electric and my cock gained in stature.

“There is way too much hair on your balls, Mr. Reynolds. We will have to shave them, sooner than later.”

I gulped. “Yes, Mistress.”

She grasped my cock and squeezed it, lightly at first, and then quite firmly. Almost too tightly. Bit I endured, taking a deep breath. She ran her thumb alongside the urethra, pressing inward and upward, forcing clear pre-cum to emerge. “Very nice texture,” she said in a voice soft as silk. “Except for the balls, I think everything is quite in order.”

I wanted to thank her, but thought the better of it. She began to stroke me lightly for a few moments and I cocked my head back to enjoy the feeling. I could feel the urge building inside me.

“One of my rules, Mr. Reynolds, is that you are not permitted to cum unless I give you permission. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Have you ever been whipped?” she asked out of the blue.

The word “whipped” buzzed around my head for a moment like a bee in a bottle. I bit my lower lip. “No, ma’am.”

“You shall be, of course. Turn around and let me examine the target area.” She released my cock and I turned away from her. “Drop your pants down,” she ordered.

I opened my belt, undid the button, and let my pants drop to a circle around my feet.

“The underpants too.” The underpants followed. “Now bend over, hands on your knees.”

As I bent over, she pushed my shirt half way up my back to give herself an unobstructed view of my naked ass. I felt her eyes on me, yet, despite the obvious embarrassment, I somehow liked the feeling of being under this woman’s power. I felt her fingertips search the surface of my skin and then, without warning, she used her two thumbs to pry the cheeks apart, exposing my most private of places.

“Mmmmm. Very nice anus, too. Very fuckable.”

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I had never thought of my ass as “fuckable.”

“The first evening, Mr. Reynolds, is always the easiest. Kind of a test to determine your predisposition to events that will follow. If you have potential for growth, then I am sure we will have many pleasant evenings together.” Still prying my ass cheeks apart, she ran the nail of her index finger across my anus. It actually felt good. Surprisingly good. “But, as I said, the hairs on your genitals must be removed. Priscilla will take care of that in a few moments and then prepare you.”

Holy shit! The maid shaving me???? And what was I going to be “prepared” for?

I could have stopped the proceedings right then and there. Before meeting Sarah I would have never let things get even this far. But her spell was far too deep to resist.

Suddenly she called Priscilla. Here I was, my backside exposed to the wind, and a maid I had barely met was standing next to me. “Yes, Mistress?”

So she called her “Mistress” too.

“Mr. Reynolds requires his genitals to be shaved. When you are done, bring him to the Pleasure Room and prepare him for a little whipping.”

“At your service, Ma’am. Mr. Reynolds, please follow me.”

I pulled up my clothes and followed Priscilla to a rather large, beautifully tiled bathroom. The bathroom was big enough to accommodate an eight-foot table that had bath towels laying across it.

“You will get completely undressed and lie down on the table,” said the maid in a soft- spoken yet firm voice.

“Completely?” I asked.

She didn’t answer me. Her stern look was all that was necessary. And I didn’t want word to get back to Sarah that I had hesitated even in the slightest. So I disrobed down to my birthday suit, my cock now limp as a noodle, and eased my back onto the table. Priscilla seemed unaware of my predicament, moving about the bathroom, basically ignoring me. I closed my eyes and thought deeply xslot Güncel Giriş about how far this all would go. I opened my eyes once more when I felt the maid’s hands on my balls.

“I am going to lather you up a little,” she said, half-whispering. “Please don’t move.”

When I saw the straight-edged razor in her hand, I knew I dare not move. Nonchalantly, she coated my testicles with a thick lather of shaving cream. It was quite cold to the touch and I felt my cock shrivel slightly at the first touch. She then lathered the area around the base of cock. I closed my eyes at the first touch of the blade to my privates. I was leaving my most worldly possessions in the hopefully capable hands of a young maid.

I felt the blade contact the sensitive surface of the testicles. I gripped my hands tightly. “Relax, Mr. Reynolds, I have done this many times before.” Somehow I assumed she had. As she removed the hairs around my balls, she applied more lather and soothingly warm water as needed to accomplish her mission. The rest of my pubic hairs were next. I was almost petrified, but kept perfectly still. Amazingly, I came through the procedure unscathed. Thank goodness!

Priscilla dried me with a soft cotton towel. Her touch urged my manhood slightly, but I maintained my dignity long enough for her to help me from the table. “Come with me, please,” she said politely.

“My clothes?” “You won’t be needing them where you are going, Mr. Reynolds. Not for the rest of the evening anyway.”

Totally naked, my cock swinging freely, I walked next to Priscilla to a room at the far end of the corridor. She used a key to open the door, then held it for me to enter. There was only one item of furniture in the room, if you could call it furniture. A black sawhorse with a thick red velvet pad on top of the cross-bar. And leather cuffs at the bottom of each of the four legs. All of a sudden I had an idea of what being “prepared” meant.

“You will lean over the sawhorse, Mr. Reynolds,” said Priscilla, “your tummy on top of the cushion.”

With more than a little trepidation I moved across the thick carpet to the ominous-looking contraption that stood in the center of the room. Hardly had I bent over it when the maid moved to kneel behind me. Quickly she pulled my left leg to the side and affixed the leather cuff around it, tightening it just enough to cause a slight discomfort. She moved to the other side and did the same. I could only imagine the view she was getting with my legs spread wide and my genitals swinging in the breeze. Before I knew it, my wrists were shackled to the front of the sawhorse. For good measure, she drew a strap from one end of the sawhorse to the other, pulling it tightly over my back, ensuring my movements were all but impossible. Before she left, she placed a blindfold over my eyes so I was left in almost total darkness.

In an instant, Priscilla was gone, leaving me naked and alone. Purposefully, Sarah left me naked and alone like this to ponder my fate. I knew I was about to be whipped for the first time in my life, but I had no idea what else might be in store for me. As the minutes passed, the more worried I became.

Finally, the door opened. I had no idea if it was Priscilla or Sarah who moved behind me. Whoever it was moved so quietly I could hardly hear movement. I strained to listen in the darkness. Then, without warning, I heard a slight whistling sound, followed by a loud crack of leather against flesh. Her leather. My flesh. I felt a searing, burning pain across my backside and cried out. My voice reverberated throughout the room.

“My dear Mr. Reynolds,” came the voice through the pain. It was Sarah. Wickedly beautiful Sarah who was also wickedly painful Sarah. “If you are going to be a baby about this we are going to have to gag you. Please try to be a bit more quiet.”

I braced myself for the next stroke. Instead, I felt a few light taps from the tip of whatever she was using. Then she reached back. I braced again, clenching my ass cheeks tightly.

“The more you clench like that, Mr. Reynolds, the more it will hurt. You will need to learn to relax and accept. Easy for her to say. And the second I relaxed she wailed into me with a second stroke that must have left a huge gash. It didn’t, of course, but it sure felt like it. My ass was literally on fire from just two measures of her merciless whip.

“He is taking it better than I thought, but he has so much to learn,” said Sarah.

“He is streaking nicely already,” said a second softer voice. Priscilla. Watching this show!

“His balls look very nice. You did a fine job, Priscilla.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Would you be kind enough to tease them for me?”

“Gladly, ma’am.”

A small hand on my newly-shaved testicles, weighing the sack in her palm. Gently massaging them. Pushing them and watching them sway to and fro between my well spread legs. Suddenly she grabbed them, squeezing them tightly, pulling them sharply down. I winced, then cried out again from the pain. This was more than “teasing,” at least in my book. When she cruelly twisted my beleaguered sack while applying way too much pressure, I cried out even more loudly than I had the first time.

“He didn’t listen very well about making noise, did he?” asked an obviously annoyed Sarah.

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Lee

Lee watched as his new slave girl tried not to fidget and fail miserably. She had only been in the handler’s care for less than a week and he hoped she hadn’t lost all of her personality and fight. He wanted an obedient slave but he wanted to train her. He wanted to see what she could become and he wanted her to still have a brain. It would be much more fun, and interesting, to work with her rather than have her obey every command.

“Stand up,” he commanded. On shaky, numb legs she tried to stand before starting to fall over. As she tried, then failed, to stand and obey him, he caught her before she could topple over.

“Bloody hell, you weren’t kneeling for that long.”

“I’m…”

“Quiet!” the handler told her as he slapped her with the crop across the back of the thighs. “No speaking.”

Lee looked at the handler and decided to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to leave this auction with his new slave and go home. The girl was beautiful but he knew she needed a shower xslot and probably something to eat. He didn’t mind London but wanted to get out and head home before prying eyes noticed his new girl. Someday this would all be legal and he wouldn’t need to hide but for now, he wouldn’t relax until he was out of the country. He turned toward the girl, and speaking into her ear, told her to nod if she could walk on her own now. He watched as she tentatively took a step forward trying out her numb legs before nodding toward his voice.

“Let’s go,” he said as he turned toward Ryan, his friend and a doctor, who just shrugged his shoulders before turning and walking towards the door. Lee grabbed the manila envelope of paperwork, put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, and steered her towards the door. Blindfolded, she had to trust him to lead her forward and per auction rules, had to leave her blindfolded on until they had left the building.

*****

Aubrey

Aubrey lay on the floor of xslot Giriş what she assumed was a limo. She knew she was in a car and no other car had that much floor space. She figured she should just be thankful she no longer had to kneel although she wished they would give her some clothing and untie her hands. She was also hungry and everything hurt as the past week had been hell. All she knew was she went to sleep in her own room but had woken up in a small cell like room naked. Whatever they had used to knock her out had left her nauseous, dizzy, and with a terrible headache.

For days, at least she hoped it was only days, she vomited most of what she was given to eat and could barely move her limbs. When she finally started walking around and keeping her one meal a day down, she was blindfolded and handed to this unknown man. Now she just tried to fall asleep and wish all the pain away. She wished to fall asleep and wake up in her own bed again. She slowly drifted between wakefulness xslot Güncel Giriş and unconsciousness until she realized the car had stopped. That familiar feeling of nervousness consumed her as she waited to hear what would happen.

One of the men gently grabbed her arm, told her to stand, and helped lift her to her feet.

“You might just want to pick her up. The ground is probably freezing and with the amount she fell before…”

“You’re right. Let’s just get on the plane and get out of here.”

“Or that’s a good reason also. Frostbite on her feet, leave quickly, all the same right?” The man I could hear to my left started laughing as he spoke.”

“Everything is always so funny to you isn’t it?”

“Life has to be fun, what’s the point if it isn’t fun?”

“Oh just shut up,” he said, “but you’re right, it is cold out here. She’s shivering and it has only been a few seconds.” Aubrey liked listening to them banter back and forth. It took some of her fear away and gave her hope. She turned her face into the man carrying her trying to block the wind but her toes still curled in the sharp wind and as much as she dreaded getting on the plane to go wherever they were taking her, she longed for the warmth.

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

Kat pushed open the door to Andrew’s study. The empty chair and the desk seemed to mock her as she scanned the books lining the walls. The laptop computer he used was closed and, she assumed, locked away in one of the drawers, leaving the wooden surface bare of ornament. There was not even a sheet of paper resting on the polished top. She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed in relief as she calculated that she was exactly three minutes early. Soon after they had agreed on a method for her to pay the interest on the loan he had made her, she had discovered that Andrew considered every minute late making such a ‘payment’ was added on, in some way.

Only once had Kat been more than five minutes late with her ‘interest’ and, for that, she had suffered at his hand over a full hour, unable to scream because of a diabolical device that he had found, or had recreated, she was never sure which, called a “Scold’s Bridle”. This gagged the wearer with a narrow metal plate, in this case spiked, that pressed down upon the victim’s tongue and was fastened tightly about her head with leather straps. She hated being gagged, anyway, and this particular gag she hated so much that she had been early for every other of their monthly ‘payment sessions’.

Glancing guiltily around, s though she expected him to be stood, watching her from a corner, she reached beneath her skirt and hooked her fingers into the waist of her panties, sliding the silk quickly down her legs, over her shoes and stockings and then stuffing them into her purse. Andrew had often, since entering into his Mastership of her, forbidden her to wear panties to work, insisting that she sat in her office with her cunt shaven and ass plugged where anyone could, simply by bending down, or by following several steps below as she climbed the stairs, feast themselves on the view of her ass, the cheeks parted by the base of the obscenely large, black butt plug, or the sight of her cunt, moistly pink and often dripping onto the tops of her stockings. He had insisted that ‘payment days’ would invariably be a day where she would be expected not to where panties. That morning she had dressed hurriedly and had, without thinking of the significance of the date, pulled on a pair of tight silk panties. Only when she arrived home from her office, breathless with the rush from the driveway, had she spotted the calendar and realised that this was the day she paid the final instalment of her interest.

The door opened and Andrew appeared, wearing the dark blue robe, of pure polished silk that he reserved for such occasions. The black case that held the cane he used was in his hand and, she knew, the flexible strip of wood was nestled in its velvet cradle. Andrew placed the box gently on the desk and unfastened the lid. Kat just stood and waited, watching his hands as he opened the box and lifted the cane from the velvet bed. The pale, lemon-coloured wood was stained brown where her blood had marked the smooth surface. Just seeing the smudges on the shaft reminded her of the searing agony and she shivered, at the same time feeling the tightening of her cunt that signalled her dark, perverse need.

Andrew gestured to Kat and she began unbuttoning the front of her dress, right from the neck, down to the hem and then slid it from her shoulders, before folding it neatly over the back of a chair. Andrew watched as she straightened up, standing in front of him, wearing her stockings and her garter belt, her breasts almost spilling from the cups of her bra. Slowly, she reached behind her and unfastened the clasp of her bra and then eased the straps down her arms, laying her bra on top of the folded dress. Andrew’s eyes narrowed a little and he frowned as he noticed the narrow band across her hips where the elastic of her panties had pressed against her skin. Stepping closer he moved behind her and glanced down, taking note of the narrow line across the small of her back that marked the smooth skin, denoting the elastic of her panties. He slid his hand down Kat’s spine, his fingertips closing on the suspender straps that held her stockings up and unfastening one clip and then the other. Kat bit her lip as she felt Andrew running his fingernail along the dip at the base of her spine and then across the red line at her hips.

“Tell me, my dear, had you forgotten that you had to make a payment today?” he murmured into her ear.

Kat blushed and nodded, mutely, accepting that he knew about her transgression. She lifted her head a little; keeping her eyes cast down and waited for him to decide upon her punishment. Kat could feel the clips of her suspenders moving against the skin of her thighs as she breathed, the silvery metal tickling gently. Andrew slid his hand across the taut curve of her buttock, pressing the base of the plug more firmly into her ass and making her breath quaver in her throat. Gently he pressed against the base of her spine, propelling her to the edge of his desk xslot and then pushed on her neck, so that she had to bend at the waist, with the edge of the wood pressing against her thighs. Kat rested her forearms on the smooth, polished wood, her breasts just brushing the desktop, straightened her back and legs, lifting her ass higher. Andrew gripped the base of the black latex plug that was filling her ass and pulled gently, slowly drawing the thick tapered stalk out of her tightly clenched anus. Kat opened her mouth and breathed a long sigh of relief as she bore down to help ease the shaft of the plug out of her back door.

Kat could feel the shaft of tapered latex stretching her asshole slowly and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip as she felt the thickest part of the plug stretched her anus until the skin around the dark pucker was almost paper-thin. She groaned, very softly, as Andrew eased the plug all of the way out of her asshole and placed it to one side. She could feel his fingers spreading her cheeks and skimming lightly around the rim of her asshole, making her twitch and shiver in anticipation. She heard the rustle of his hand dipping into the pocket of his robe and then felt something cool and slippery being smeared around the rim of her anus. Kat wriggled for a moment and then stopped as the pleasant cool of the substance faded and an intense burning sensation replaced it. Kat heard the click of glass against wood and glanced sideways to see the familiar blue of a ‘Vicks’ jar on the desktop and smelled the sharp pungency of the menthol and eucalyptus oils.

Andrew stepped out of the study, leaving Kat splayed across the desktop, returning a few seconds later with a bowl of hot water and a couple of face cloths. The burning in Kat’s ass was intense now, the menthol and eucalyptus making her writhe against the cold wood. Andrew dipped one of the cloths into the hot water and began wiping the ointment away from her anus. Kat flinched and then sighed, with relief, as Andrew carefully cleaned the translucent goo from around her asshole. At last, when he was sure that he had cleared every last drop of the ointment from Kat’s backside, he took the second cloth and gently patted her skin dry.

Kat stayed motionless, her hands clenched around the far edge of the desk, her knuckles white with the strain. She could feel the points of her nipples, pressed hard against the desktop, as she waited. Andrew picked up the cane and held it in front of her face, waiting. Kat knew what he expected her to do and pursed her lips, kissing the polished surface, just where it was stained with her blood. Her tongue flickered against the darker patch, tasting the coppery bitterness. She shifted her feet a little and caressed the wood with her plump, moist lips glancing upwards from under her lashes at her master waiting, hoping for his approval.

Andrew stepped back and lifted the cane in his hand, swinging it horizontally through the air to crack harshly against her taut buttocks. Kat grunted as the thin wooden rod bit into the tender flesh and she straightened her back a little. A scarlet welt rose across the curve of her ass, and puckered Kat’s tender skin. The line of the cane burned across her ass and Kat desperately wanted to rub the tender skin, to take the sting away. She heard the evil hiss of the wood through the air as Andrew swung the cane again and felt the burning flash of pain as the wood cut into her skin, an exact finger’s width above the first stripe. Her whole body jerked and the welt reddened almost immediately. Kat could feel her cunt tightening and moistening as the burning in her ass subsided and she blushed as she felt the familiar churning of arousal in her womb and belly.

Kat tried to breathe slowly and calmly, to still the burgeoning need welling up in her. She could fee the burning of her face, almost as intense as the burning in her ass, at the perverse pleasure with which she was anticipating the next cut of Andrew’s cane. She knew that he had photographed and videotaped earlier sessions and imagined him showing them to other masters, her humiliation and sluttishness displayed to them all. She lifted her ass as high as she could, tightening the muscles of her thighs and waited, trembling, to hear the swish of Andrew’s next swing. Kat tensed as she heard the hiss of the cane, cutting through the air, and clenched her teeth, just as the wooden rod slashed downwards to catch her at the very top of her buttocks. Kat gripped the desktop hard as she arched her spine, crushing her breasts against the wood and throwing her head back in a soundless scream of perverse pleasure. With swift, vicious flicks of his wrist, Andrew slashed the cane against her buttocks until he had left ten, equally spaced, welts running down the curve of her ass from her back to her thighs. Kat counted them, silently, tallying the cuts of the cane and trying to block out the rising xslot Giriş feelings of arousal that clouded her mind.

Andrew wound his fingers in her hair and pulled Kat, roughly, upright. Her eyes watered as she felt the tugging on her scalp and she straightened, her hands dropping by her sides. Then Andrew spun her around and pushed her back against the desk, his hands on her shoulders, bending her backwards until he had her spread across the desktop, her plump, swollen breasts in the air and her erect nipples pointing to the ceiling. Kat just waited, compliant and obedient, as Andrew raised the cane again and brought it down in a vicious cut across her breasts. The pale wooden rod struck squarely against the points of her hard nipples and pain exploded through her body, sending sparks fizzing along her nerves, directly to her clit. The hard pearl of her clit throbbed and Kat wished that he would allow her to touch herself and release the building tide of frustration that threatened to overwhelm her. Andrew raised the cane again and slashed it against her nipples again. Kat gasped as the wood slapped against the points of her bruised and swollen nipples and then gasped again as the aftershocks from the pain reached her clit and she began to cum, her cunt convulsing and each spasm squirting hot, fragrant fluids over her thighs and the tops of her stockings. Her legs trembled and her back arched as her heels drummed against the side of the desk, then she flopped back against the wood, gasping for breath.

Andrew watched Kat lying across the desk, panting and waiting for permission to move. He knew that the welts across her tender ass must be pressing uncomfortably against the cold, hard wood, and that she was burning up with her need to cum, but he just watched and waited. His imagination was busy, conjuring up ways to punish her for breaking his edict that she must go without any panties on those days when she was due to make a ‘payment’. Kat knew that the narrow line around her waist had given away her transgression and she waited for his decision.

At first, Kat had dreaded theses extra punishments, imagining all sorts of painful and degrading sessions but now she found herself almost eager to push the limits of her master’s patience. She had arrived a few minutes late and eagerly accepted extra cuts with the cane, her suffering a perverse bond and attraction between them. Today she had covered her ass and cunt, something she had never done without her master’s permission before, and wondered how he would punish her for such a transgression. She lay still, spread across his desktop and wondered what dark thoughts were in her master’s mind. Without speaking, Andrew left the office and closed the door, softly, behind him. Kat was alone with her thoughts and the metronomic tick of the clock.

Kat sprawled across the desk, waiting for her master to return, imagining the fiendish and diabolical punishments he might choose. Sometimes, she knew, the torment was in her mind and she was released from her punishment, untouched and frustrated. This time, though, she was sure that he would find a way to ensure that she paid for her transgression. The door opened and Andrew came into the room, the case for his computer in one hand and two black bags, about the size of small rucksacks in the other. He gestured for Kat to stand up and move to the leather chair, next to his desk and then plugged the laptop into the power and broadband connections. The computer whirred and chimed as it warmed up, then Andrew opened one of the black bags and took out a camera, set on a tripod and aimed it at her, sprawled in the chair. Kat watched as he connected a lead from the camera to the laptop and then opened the other bag, emptying the contents onto the desk, so that they were in view of the camera. Kat glanced across and then blushed at the array of dildos and vibrators, ranging from long narrow ones in silver, to thick black latex ones. Kat knew that Andrew had used all of them, sometimes more than one at a time, to tease and torment her, and now, she wondered what he intended to do. The last item from the bag was one of the gags that she hated so much. This was made of black leather, with a dildo fastened securely to the straps, so that once she was wearing it , it would be like having a thick, greasy cock thrust between her lips and over her tongue. Part of her wanted to say know, even as another part of her was anxious to surrender to his punishment. She knew that she could easily take the dildo in her mouth and she smiled secretly to herself, thinking that this would be one of his more enjoyable punishments. She took the dildo in her mouth almost eagerly without flinching, even when he tightened the straps around her head. Then she watched, puzzled as he logged the laptop into an internet site.

In one corner of the screen, a small window appeared, showing the image that the camera was recording. xslot Güncel Giriş The rest of the screen looked like a blank page from a chat room. Andrew began to type:

“This slut has disobeyed my instruction. As her punishment, she is to be online here for the next four hours and will have to do anything you, dear viewers, tell her to. Please inform all of your friends. She will neither be allowed to refuse, nor to answer you, other than by following your instructions,” he typed.

Kat’s eyes widened as he went over to the door, and picked up a chair, then sat down, out of the range of the camera. He watched Kat as she read the words he had typed and then looked back at him. Smiling, Andrew noticed the crimson blush that stained her cheeks as Kat realised that she would have to perform every act that the other members of the chat room demanded. She would have no idea how many people would demand her to perform for them, nor how many would watch as she debased herself. For all she knew, she could be watched by her friends, or family, even her sister.

“Seeing as you have failed to obey me,” Andrew said coolly, “your punishment shall be to obey complete strangers.”

Kat swallowed, her mouth suddenly full of saliva and her belly roiling in a mixture of revulsion and excitement. She wanted to close her eyes but she knew that, if she did, Andrew would create an even greater humiliation. Reluctantly, she turned her head and fixed her eyes on the screen, waiting for the first instructions to appear.

“Pull the hood back from your clit so I can see it,” the first instruction read.

Kat had no hesitation in obeying, even draping her knees over the arms of the chair and spreading her thighs wider, so that the camera could see further into her cunt. Then she placed her fingertips either side of the glistening pearl and pulled back gently, easing the hood over the tip of her clit. Surreptitiously, she stroked the swollen stalk, closing her eyes for a moment as a wave of pleasure washed along her nerves. Spreading her fingertips wide, so that the camera had a good view of her swollen clit and glistening, dripping cunt, she glanced to the side, watching the screen for the next instruction.

“Pick up the biggest vibrator you have and switch it to the fastest setting,” someone else added, “And then push it very slowly into your asshole.”

Kat reached out for the fat, black latex vibrator and twisted the base until it buzzed in her hand. Nervously, she brought the tip closer and closer to her puckered asshole; touching the tender flesh with it and feeling it throb through her still tender flesh. She groaned around the dildo in her mouth as she pressed the head into her ass, stretching the tightly puckered ring of muscle as she fed the bulbous head into her bowel. The head popped inside, and Kat moaned, sweat beading on her brow and between her breasts. Taking a deep breath, she pushed harder and slid the shaft of the buzzing vibrator inside her ass. She felt so debased as she imagined thousands of people watching her but it excited her and she glanced eagerly at the screen to catch the next command, even as she seated the vibrator firmly in her ass.

“Now finger your dripping cunt, you horny slut,” came the next command.

Kat reached down between her spread thighs and slowly ran two fingers along the slit, easing her puffy lips apart with the tips and then working them just inside so that they stretched her tender fuck passage. Gradually she worked them deeper and deeper until her hand was sliding in and out, making wet sloppy, gushing noises with every thrust. The room was heavy with the scent of her cunt and she was dripping onto the leather of the chair when another command, one word this time, appeared.

“More.”

Kat bunched a third finger alongside the other two and began working them in and out, the slurping noises louder and the fluid gushing over her palm and the tops of her thighs as she rammed the fingers into her aching cunt. Feeling very daring, she bunched her little finger alongside and thrust hard, stretching herself until almost her whole hand disappeared into her cunt. Now the groans were almost audible around her mouthful of dildo and sweat was streaming down her face, smearing her immaculate make-up.

“Fist it bitch!” appeared on the screen.

Kat’s eyes widened nervously and she looked toward Andrew, pleading with her eyes for him to release her and end the torment early. Andrew just smiled evilly and shook his head, gesturing to the screen.

“DO IT!” appeared boldly

Do it, or I shall,” snapped Andrew.

Sobbing, Kat bunched her fingers and thumb together and pushed. She could feel her cunt stretching, further and further until she thought that she would tear, and then the knuckles slipped past the entrance and her whole hand was inside. Swallowing as best she could with the dildo gagging her, Kat curled her fingers and felt her wrist bone pressed against the nub of her clit. It was enough to make her cum hard and long, screaming into the gag until she thought her throat would bleed, spasms wracking her splayed limbs as the fist and the vibrator combined to force her into a continuous, shattering orgasms.

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

Dedicated to Katie M., a devoted reader and a true submissive. This is a continuation of her fantasy. Perhaps her Mistress will allow her to read this story and finger herself to a climax.

WARNING: This story contains a watersports scene. It also involves lesbian sex.

It’s not necessary to read Chapters 01-04 to read this story, although it does provide additional background.

Katie Miller– 29 year old lesbian working for a real estate developer as an in-house attorney. Full figured woman of average stature with ample breasts and strawberry blonde hair. After bungling an important work assignment she agrees to “do anything” to make it right with her company’s outside counsel, Demetrius (“Demi”) Giannopoulos.

Demi Giannopoulos — late 40’s woman of Greek heritage, managing partner of a Manhattan based law firm. Has secretive personal life that is revealed to Katie in steps — that she is a Domme by nature and enjoys watching Katie submit to her as well as others. Tall, attractive, dresses well and loves to wear sexy lingerie.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.

Chapter Five

I was madly in love with Mistress.

She was, in my humble view, a Greek Goddess.

I fell into a “relationship” with Demi in the oddest possible way. I basically screwed up a work assignment for her because I was daydreaming about her instead of doing the work I was assigned. I fell on my knees to beg for forgiveness and instead I ultimately received her love. Well, that’s my interpretation of what transpired, my submission to her and her unconventional ways of expressing her love to me.

As a lawyer I was trained to research issues. In my case, I didn’t understand the world I was being pulled into. I put the word “relationship” in quotation marks because my relationship with Mistress was not a relationship in a traditional sense, you know, a relationship between equals, or as much as you can make it equal. In many cases a traditional relationship will fail because one of the parties doesn’t feel he or she is an equal member of the relationship. I’ve had a number of those relationships, most of them where I felt that I was the second class citizen and deserved better. Those relationships were doomed to failure and did fail.

My “relationship” with Mistress was different. At the outset, there was an explicit agreement that she would control all aspects of our interaction. She would text me with directions or would give those directions to me in person. I would obey. I would be punished if I failed to obey. There no was lack of clarity in our relationship.

I found that I was eager to willingly surrender complete control and that I craved Mistress’s approval above all else. Mistress had unexpectedly tapped into a bottomless well of desire. My research revealed that I was in a classic dominant/submissive relationship and that I exhibited all the characteristics of a submissive. To obey without question. To crave the approval of the dominant. To be sexually aroused by the transfer of control. All of it applied to me. But a question still remained. What were the depths of my submission to her? The exploration of those depths was one of the exciting elements of our relationship.

But how could such a relationship be sustained? I reflected on that question as well. I believed that the foundation of a long-term D/s relationship is trust. Could I completely trust Mistress? Did she trust me? She had already taken me completely out of my comfort zone. I hadn’t had sex with a man in years, and yet she had me spreading my legs for a complete stranger. She valued her privacy. She trusted me with her most closely guarded secret — that she was a lesbian (or bisexual?) and that she derived sexual pleasure from watching others have sex. We both had implicit trust in the other.

I was learning that being a submissive was an exercise in patience and restraint. After my last session with Mistress the waiting began again. It was already a week of silence and I had heard nothing from Mistress. I was in my office on a normal workday when a Federal Express delivery person came to my office. I thought it was a bit unusual, as the mailroom typically took all deliveries and then had the packages brought up to my office.

“I’m surprised you’re here. Shouldn’t you be delivering all packages to the mailroom?” I asked Mr. FedEx.

“You’re right ma’am. But this package requires your signature.” He presented me with an electronic tablet. I signed and took the package.

It was a package with the return address of a jeweler in another state. I was puzzled. I hadn’t ordered anything that I could remember. I tore open the cardboard box and found xslot a wrapped present inside. The package was wrapped in red foil and had a large white bow on it. I used my scissors to cut the package open, only to find a velvet covered jewelry case inside. I opened the hinged lid slowly and found inside a heavy gold rope necklace with a small heart shaped pendant engraved with the letter “M” in cursive, surrounded by small diamonds and rubies. The beauty of the necklace took my breath away.

I opened the small card that was inside the jewelry case. It read as follows:

To “K,” my sweet pet. “M”

I was overjoyed. Tears came to my eyes. The “M” on the pendant was for Mistress. She wanted me to wear this close to my heart. I ran to the ladies’ room and put the necklace on in front of the mirror. It was perfect.

I walked back to my office, radiating a glow from this most intimate gift from Mistress. My assistant stopped me on the way back.

“Lovely necklace. Present for yourself?”

I hadn’t thought about what I would tell others. I couldn’t tell them the truth. “Yes, the “M” is for Miller.”

“It looks great on you.”

I went back to my office, clutching the pendant in my hand and thinking about Mistress. She did love me. I wondered when she would say it out loud to me. Her pedestal just got a few feet higher. I hoped for a message from her but didn’t receive one that day. I banished the thought of texting her a thank you. I knew that Mistress wanted to control our communications. Patience and restraint, I told myself.

The next day another package arrived. This time I signed eagerly, and then shut my office door to see what Mistress had sent me. I ripped open the package like a child at Christmas. It was a vibrator. But not one I’d used before. It was a “rabbit” that looked like a cactus. The main shaft was shaped like a phallus, and there were two “arms,” the shorter one to stimulate my clitoris and the longer one to insert in my ass. It came with a set of batteries and a detailed instruction book.

As with the other gift there was a card inside:

To my sweet bunny rabbit, A rabbit for your pleasure. Use it every night, but don’t be a naughty girl and cum without my permission! “M”

I looked at the outside packaging:

Versatile and pleasure-packed vibrator with a wide range of functions for never-ending naughty fun!

Features 3 extensions that deliver mind-blowing internal and external stimulation!

Anal probe for backdoor pleasure!

Main shaft for inner stimulation and exciting G-spot massage!

Clitoral stimulator with a flat head for complete clit coverage and arousal!

Programmed with 8 exciting speeds for each motor, 3 intense vibration modes, and 8 rotation patterns — can be varied to create more than 500 pleasure combos!

Loaded with 3 powerful motors for triple the pleasure

Rotating beads in the shaft for enhanced inner stimulation!

Waterproof sex toy that you can use in the bath or shower for erotic water fun!

That insidious woman! Giving me a device designed to ignite my body and then telling me not to turn on the flame. She was obviously testing my powers of restraint. My powers of restraint were poor to begin with. Just ask the empty carton of ice cream in my trash bin. Once I opened a carton of ice cream I was unable to stop until all of it was gone. How was I going to use this magical device and not cum? I shoved the vibrator back in its packaging and put it into my briefcase. I tried to forget about it and get back to work.

The suspense was killing me. Not more than fifteen minutes later I put the batteries in the vibrator, secreted it in my purse and made my way to the ladies’ room. I checked the stalls. They were all empty. I chose the stall farthest from the door and locked it. I sat on the front of the toilet seat and pulled down my panties to my ankles. Wet of course. Mistress was right. I was a wanton slut. My restraint lasted exactly fifteen minutes. I turned the vibrator on its lowest setting. It made a faint buzzing noise that I prayed couldn’t be heard outside my stall. I slid the longer middle shaft easily into my sopping wet pussy and then pulled it out and inserted each of the arms in my pussy to lubricate them. Then I re-inserted the longer shaft inside my pussy and the anal probe inside my ass. The shortest arm was vibrating directly on my clit.

Oh fuck. The claim on the packaging was spot on. It claimed that the rabbit could “deliver mind-blowing internal and external stimulation.” I felt as if I was touching a live wire. Every single pleasure receptor in my body was screaming with delight. Somehow while pursuing orgasmic bliss I heard the door open to the restroom. Apparently the buzzing noise was much louder than I thought. A voice from the other side of the door said, “Are you OK?”

Shit. It was my assistant Melanie. I was so amped up and nervous that when I pulled out the vibrator to turn it off I dropped xslot Giriş the juice slickened device on the floor. It clattered on the tile floor, travelling across it as it continued to buzz. I lunged for it but missed as it skittered across the floor and underneath the stall door. My worst nightmare! I saw Melanie’s hand reach down and pick it up. Moments later I heard it turned off.

How was I going to explain this?

I cleaned myself up the best I could with toilet tissue paper and then pulled up my panties. I opened the stall door. Melanie was facing me, holding the vibrator between her fingers, and grinning widely.

“Lose something?”

I held out my hand. She put the vibrator in it.

“Thank you,” I said sheepishly.

“My pleasure … or I guess I should say ‘Your pleasure,'” she replied with a giggle.

“I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry you had to see this. Can we forget this just happened?” I asked, knowing full well this was something you could NEVER forget.

“Of course,” she chirped, then turned around to wash her hands. I dropped the vibrator in my purse and slipped out of the restroom, grateful that Melanie had turned away to allow me a small shred of dignity.

I returned to my office and shut the door. My heart was still hammering in my chest. I didn’t think I could ever live down the embarrassment of that moment. Why couldn’t I have just waited until I got to the privacy of my bedroom to have tried out this devilish device? The answer was simple — I lacked self-restraint. Tonight would be another test.

The rest of the workday crawled by. No messages from Mistress. Thankfully Melanie decided to avoid my office. I’m not sure I could have faced her again. I was out of there at exactly 5 p.m., taking a route to the front door that would bypass Melanie’s cube.

I arrived at my apartment and shed my coat and stripped down to my bra and panties. I went into the fridge, poured myself a full glass of chardonnay and then proceeded to guzzle it. I was halfway through my second glass when I was calm enough to pull Mistress’s gift from my purse. I still had on her necklace, and nervously fingered the pendant as I perused the instructions.

I experimented with it, picking a speed, vibration, and rotational pattern. What happened to the old days when a vibrator had just an “on” and “off” switch? I flung myself on the bed and then shed my bra. I then went for my panties and much to my disgust found that they were sopping wet. Of course, the humiliation of today’s event made me randy. Crap, I really was turning into a slut. I was going to get myself off. How would Mistress know?

Then my phone chimed.

Demetria G: You naughty girl. Don’t cum without permission!

Fuck. Is my entire life an open book? How did she know I was about to fire up the vibrator and make myself cum? Now I was panicked. I was certain I couldn’t lie to her with a straight face. I didn’t want to disappoint her and I sure as hell didn’t want to be punished. The ruler she used on me last time hurt like hell and the red marks on my ass were still evident.

But here I was. Naked on my bed with a vibrator in my hand. I went into the top drawer of my nightstand and took out a bottle of lube. I lubed up the vibrator and turned it on. I pushed the vibrator inside of me and of course it went in effortlessly as I was practically dripping like a faucet. The effect was even better than that afternoon. My adjustments to the vibration and rotation of the vibrator advanced me quickly to the brink of a head splitting orgasm.

Right as I was about to cum I had the mental image of Mistress pounding my ass with her wooden ruler. I jerked the vibrator out of me and yelled at the ceiling, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I lay on my bed gasping for breath as my orgasm denied literally knocked the wind out of me. The vibrator was still incessantly buzzing on my bed. I had to squelch the thought of throwing the vibrator against the wall, smashing it into a thousand pieces.

My phone chimed again.

Demetria G: Does bunny rabbit want to cum?

She was asking me a question. I was given permission to reply.

Katie M: Yes please Mistress.

Demetria G: In due time my pet.

I don’t think a text message ever made me cry. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I wanted to see Mistress. I wanted to cum. My life was shit. I cried myself to sleep without any supper.

Chapter Six

The next day wasn’t much better, in fact it was worse. The day started with a staff meeting. Melanie of course was there and although she probably wasn’t laughing at me every time I looked at her I saw a smile that I read as a laugh. I suspected everyone else in the room knew as well (even though I trusted Melanie with many secrets, not just this one). I was sweating, even though the room was air conditioned.

The rest of the day dragged on. I checked my phone every 15 minutes for a text from Mistress. Of course nothing. When the clock xslot Güncel Giriş finally registered 5 p.m. it was back to my apartment. This time I decided to eat dinner first and then address the instrument of torture. I had three glasses of wine with dinner so was feeling no pain when I picked up Mr. Rabbit. I was probably wetter than the day before and cursed the betrayal of my body. The more the humiliation, the wetter I became. I turned the rabbit to its lowest setting and this time pushed it in slowly. It was heavenly. The ascent was slower and agonizing. Could I obey Mistress?

“Yes, yes, yes,” I cried to no one. I was going to cum.

Again, the image of Mistress with a scowl on her face flashed before my eyes. I reluctantly pulled the vibrator from my pussy, swore at the heavens, and then tried to watch television to take my mind off of my need. I was wholly unsuccessful, but at least I didn’t cry when I finally fell asleep.

The next day was more of the same. Interminable staff meetings, imagined laughing from Melanie and the staff, and one or two changes of panties. It was drawing close to 5 p.m. when my phone chimed.

Demetria G: Be at my house at 7 p.m. Bring rabbit.

Yes! I would be able to see Mistress. She would let me cum, wouldn’t she? I was elated. Then I realized I didn’t know where she lived. And I didn’t have her address. Mistress would punish me if I asked her, since her text did not give me permission to reply. I pulled out her firm phone directory and started calling the associates that I knew worked for her. On the fourth try I finally got someone who was in her office. It was Allison, one of her paralegals.

“Allison, thank God you’re at your desk. Can you give me Demi’s home address?”

“Who is this?”

“Sorry, this is Katie.”

“Katie who?”

“Katie Miller, remember we worked on the construction contract together?”

“Oh yeah,” she replied, chuckling. “You were the one that didn’t read the revisions to the contract.”

Oh shit. Does everyone have to remind me of that fuck-up? “Yes, that’s me.”

“Well we aren’t allowed to give out personal information like that.”

It was already 5:45. I only had an hour and a quarter to get the address, go home and change, and then go to Mistress’s house, wherever that might be. My impatience was about to boil over.

“Look, I have something that I need to deliver to her.”

“I’d be happy to give it to her in the morning. Why don’t you bring it over here to our office?”

Regrettably, I exploded. “Look you little bitch. Just give me the fucking address. I’m a client of the firm and …” The line went dead. “Hello?” I slammed the phone in the cradle.

One more try and then I would have to text Mistress and admit defeat. I called Stacie Johnstone, a senior associate. She flirted with me a few times and was definitely staring at my tits when we were working together in a small conference room. Stacie was an attractive closeted lesbian. The scuttlebutt in the office was that Stacie was a butch lesbian who loved attractive women. I was running out of time. Unfortunately Stacie was my last best hope.

“Hello Stacie, this is Katie Miller.”

“Katie, good to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” she said in a smarmy tone of voice.

“I need Demi’s home address. I have to deliver something to her tonight. It’s an important document that she asked me to personally deliver.” That should have done it, especially with my embellishment.

There was a momentary pause. “No can do. I’d get fired for giving out personal information, especially Demi’s address. You know how crazy she is about her privacy.”

“But this is urgent.”

Another pause. Unfortunately Stacie was as smart as she was attractive. “Wait a second. If Demi asked you to deliver a document to her house, how come she didn’t give you her address?”

Shit. She got me there. It was time for true desperation. “Look Stacie, this is a personal matter. I swear I won’t tell her that you gave me her address and you won’t get in trouble for this.”

“Well … I don’t know.”

There was no time to mince words. “Stacie, I’ll go down on you in your office if you give me her address.”

I could see the hamster wheel in her head spinning wildly. “Uhhh, can I fondle your tits too?” I’m sure that was her pussy talking.

“Yes, now give me the fucking address.”

She gave me the address, and now I had exactly one hour to be at Mistress’s house.

I flew out of my office, hit the elevator button fifty times, raced out into the street and grabbed a cab and was back in my apartment in a record breaking fifteen minutes. I took a quick shower, changed into a denim skirt and tight white V-neck t-shirt and dashed down to the street to catch a cab. Mistress was about ten minutes away if I was lucky. As I was checking my purse for my wallet I realized I left the rabbit in my apartment. God damn it! I went back to my apartment, grabbed the rabbit and went back down to the street. Fortunately Mistress lived uptown and not crosstown so the cab ride only took eight minutes. I arrived at Mistress’s apartment building at 6:59 p.m. Panting, I pushed the “call” button on the intercom.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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“The asking price is eight hundred dollars.”

“Eight hundred? Seems a little steep, don’t you think?”

“Are you kidding? At that price, I’m doing you a favor! I should be asking double that!”

A silvery laugh, high and feminine, and then the woman’s voice, the one I didn’t recognize. “Doing your bank account a favor, I’ll warrant. Tell you what. I’ll offer you four hundred and fifty dollars, right now, and we’ll call it a deal.”

I tested the bonds that held my wrists and ankles, keeping silent, as I strained to hear the muted voices through the thin wooden door.

Mark’s voice again, sounding incredulous: “Four hundred and fifty dollars? That’s highway robbery! I can’t take a penny less than seven hundred!”

Yes, this was turning out to be one of the strangest days I’d ever had. And it had started so normally, too!

Mark got up out of bed before I did this morning; I didn’t have anything on my schedule until ten o’clock, so I had the rare luxury of sleeping in. I didn’t even get up to fix breakfast; by the time I finally crawled out of bed, he’d already left for work. I woke up late, with barely enough time to shower and dress before I had to rush out the door, and stopped dead in the kitchen when I saw that he’d left a note for me, propped up on the table. Usually, that can only mean one thing.

No, wait, better start back a little further. After all, there’s a long story to how I ended up in the closet, pressed back amid all the clothes, blindfolded, with my wrists lashed to the bar above me, listening to my boyfriend haggling in the next room.

My name is Kimberly Ann, though to my friends I’m Kiki. I’m 26 years old, I’m a realtor, and the man on the other side of the closet door-the man who stripped me down to my bra and panties, bound me standing spreadeagle in the closet, and whispered in my ear exactly what he has planned for me this evening-is Mark, my boyfriend of the past eight months.

A year ago, I’d have been the last person in the world to suspect I’d ever find myself here, blindfolded and tied up in the closet. A year ago, I was still trying to figure out exactly who I was and what I wanted. I’d had a series of relationships, of course, most of them with decent enough guys, but… They all seemed to end the same way. A year or two into the relationship, I’d end up feeling vaguely bored, a little restless, a little dissatisfied; and from that point, the end was inevitable. It was like having an itch I could never seem to figure out how to scratch.

For a while, I wondered if I might even be a lesbian, but that didn’t seem to fit quite right either. I never experimented with a female lover, party out of timidity and partly because I couldn’t see myself actually getting it on with another woman. There is a certain irony in that, I’ll admit…but that comes later.

In retrospect, the problem should have been obvious, really. My fantasy life has always been rich and varied and very, very strange, at least by the standards of the guys I dated. When I close my eyes and open my legs and let my hands slide over my body, I sometimes imagine myself being kidnapped by a mad scientist who would carry me into his secret laboratory, where he’d strap me to his table. I picture him leaning over me, smiling inscrutably, ignoring my screams and my struggles as he methodically cut my clothes from my body. When he had stripped me naked, he would unfold a set of steel stirrups from the end of his table, and cuff my ankles into them, spreading my legs wide. He’d pull on a long pair of surgical gloves, all the way up to his shoulders, and begin running his hands over the most intimate parts of my body, squeezing my breasts and sliding his gloved fingers inside of me…but detached, dispassionate, as if he were testing me, measuring me up for something. I’d feel myself getting wet, in spite of myself, as he probed and examined me, and see my wetness on his gloves when he withdrew his fingers.

Finally, when he’d spent a considerable amount of time probing and prodding and fondling me, and had satisfied himself that I was a suitable subject, he’d begin bringing out instruments and strange bits of machinery…large cups that fitted tightly over my breasts, with vacuum hoses attached; a startling array of dildos in various shapes and sizes, which he fitted to a large, squat machine that he wheeled into place between my legs; clamp and electrodes with bundles of wires leading off into even stranger machines. All this without saying a single word to me, without acknowledging me at all.

When he was finished setting up the machines, the experiments would begin. With the flick of a switch, the vacuum pumps would come to life, sucking on my breasts; a flick of another switch, and the machine between my legs would whir and hum and vibrate and suddenly thrust a dildo into my wet pussy, over and over again, relentlessly, mechanically. I would scream and cry out and throw myself helplessly against the straps xslot that held me bound securely to the table, unable to stop the relentless assault of the dildo, as the equipment around me monitored and recorded my body’s responses. Then, finally, no matter how hard I struggled, I would come, the machine ripping my orgasm from me; he would watch, and take notes in a notebook, as my back arched and my body spasmed in the throes of the unwanted orgasm.

Then he’d press another button and the dildo would withdraw. The front of the machine would rotate, selecting another, and shove it abruptly into me, and the process would begin again; the machine would violate me, thrusting the dildo in and out until it wrested another orgasm from me.

By this point in the fantasy, I’d usually be thoroughly soaked, pushing my fingers into myself or thrusting my hips against my favorite vibrator while I imagined the machine forcing orgasm after orgasm out of me, all under the detached eye of the mad scientist. I would sometimes fantasize that he would keep me there all night, until I was far beyond the point of exhaustion, no longer able to struggle against the machine as it ripped an endless series of orgasms out of my body, as he dutifully recorded every moan and every shudder in his notebook.

But I digress.

I never shared any of my sexual fantasies with my last boyfriend before Mark. It was an ill-fated relationship to begin with; our first argument came when he discovered my collection of vibrators, and tried to convince me to throw them all away because I didn’t need them as long as I was with him. Honestly, I will never understand why some men feel so threatened by a few dollars’ worth of plastic and some batteries. The final straw came when we were watching a TV show about sex one night; one of the people on the show was talking about bondage, and I thought it sounded like fun, and he thought it sounded like the sort of thing only a sicko or a pervert would like, and that was that.

So after that I determined to change my romantic life. I cut my long, flowing red hair short and spiky; I bought my first leather miniskirt; and I resolved not to date again until I’d found someone with interests and fantasies as weird as mine.

Which, I was sure, would keep me celibate for quite a long time.

Fate, as it turned out, had other plans. I met Mark on an online dating site about three months later. His profile listed “creative sex games” as one of his interests, I asked him about it, and…

Well, maybe that’s a story for another time.

His interests and fantasies are as weird as mine, though, no doubt about it. Mark loves little more than inventing elaborate scenarios for us to play. He’s become extraordinarily skilled at manipulating my sexual responses, creating sex games that tease and torment both of us so deliciously; every time I think he can’t get more wonderfully devious, or push my buttons any more devilishly, he outdoes himself.

Mark can turn anything into a sex game. In fact, when we’d been talking by email and chat for a while and we had started thinking about talking on the phone, even giving me his phone number became a game-one that took an entire exhilarating, frustrating, intensely erotic day and a drive all over town to win.

But that’s definitely a story for another time.

The story about how I ended up bound in the closet began early in our relationship. I had told him that I had been so bored with my previous partners that I’d begun to wonder if I was a lesbian, which amused him greatly. He made me change my sexual orientation to “bisexual” on all my online profiles, and would tease me whenever another woman would flirt with me online, running his hands over my body and sliding his fingers between my legs as he made me read their words out loud. It was very dirty and a bit scary and shockingly erotic all at once, and even though I couldn’t actually see myself with another woman, the fantasy became a fun game in itself.

This morning started out as an ordinary Friday like any other. Mark was up and out before me, and had long since left by the time I got out of bed. I stumbled into the bathroom, showered, dressed, went into the kitchen to fix myself breakfast…

…and saw that he’d left my favorite vibrator sitting in the center of the kitchen table, a sheet of paper neatly folded next to it with my name written on it.

Instantly, my nipples hardened, and I couldn’t suppress the smile that grew across my face. I picked up the sheet of paper, and discovered a lacy push-up bra and a small lacy G-string beneath it. My grin got even wider as I unfolded the sheet of paper and read.

“My dearest Kiki Ann,

I have a most wonderful surprise planned for you this evening. I want you to be well-prepared for it, so I want you good and horny all day. I got you a new bra and a new pair of panties, which I’d like you to wear today. Also, I think it would be most appropriate xslot Giriş for you to wear your skirt and that blouse I like so much. To help get you in the proper mood, I’ve taken the liberty of getting out your vibrator for you. I’d like you to take it to work with you, and use it to tease yourself throughout the day.

Just to get things started, you should masturbate to orgasm right here in the kitchen. Enjoy it while you can; I want you to tease yourself later on today, but I don’t want you to have another orgasm until tonight, so you’ll be suitably horny.

I’ll call you later this afternoon. See you tonight!

xoxoxo Mark”

As I read, I felt myself getting more aroused still. My nipples stood out almost painfully, and I felt the tingling growing between my legs. Without a second thought, I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it to the kitchen floor. My bra followed; I ran my hands over my breasts as I stripped it off, then rolled my nipples through my fingers, pinching them lightly. I sat on the edge of the table and pull ed my shoes and socks off, then peeled off my practical, professional, and wholly inappropriate slacks.

Then, clad in nothing but a pair of thin white cotton panties, I lay back on the kitchen table and closed my eyes. I searched my memories of the past few days, trying to think of anything he might have said or done to drop some kind of hint about what he was up to, but nothing came to mind. Whatever it was, he’d been playing it close to the chest.

I ran my hands over my breasts again, feeling a damp spot growing on my panties. I began stroking very lightly, running my hands in slow, lazy circles over my breasts, barely touching them. My fingertips grazed lightly over my nipples, teasing them, causing the tingle between my legs to build. I smiled, savoring the sensation, feeling my body respond.

I began lingering over my nipples, flicking my fingernails against them and rolling them between my fingers, coaxing them to greater sensitivity. When they were achingly sensitive, jutting out diamond-hard, I carefully took each one between my fingers, pinching them lightly between thumb and forefinger.

I lay like that for a long moment, still smiling, caressing my nipples between my fingers, then suddenly clamped down, twisting and pulling them as hard as I could. I heard myself cry out at the deliciously sharp sensation. Warm wetness flooded between my legs, quickly saturating the panties and dripping down my thigh. I continued to pull on my nipples, twisting them sharply, as I rocked my hips, feeling the tight fabric move against my clit. I heard myself moan, the sound turning into a gasp when my nipples slipped suddenly out of my fingers.

I slid my hands over my breasts again, pressing my palms flat against my hypersensitive nipples, then began stroking my body. One hand slid up to my throat as the other moved downward, caressing my stomach and my thighs. I teased myself that way, my fingers lightly scurrying over my soaking panties, just barely missing the most sensitive places, the places I wanted most to touch.

Then, at last, when I could bear no more, I stopped, taking my hands away from my body and sitting up. I hopped off the table and picked up the vibrator. I sat down in one of the polished wood, high-backed chairs and leaned back, spreading my legs with my feet on the table. I slid my sodden panties down to my knees, leaving them there stretched taut between my legs, then slowly and deliberately drew one finger up along my pussy, parting my labia lips and slipping my fingertip directly over my clit. I drew a shuddering breath at the sensation, and felt the juices pour around my fingertip. I turned the vibrator on its lowest setting and leaned back in my chair, bringing it between my legs and running it lightly over my clit. The vibrations set up little shockwaves in my pussy, and I felt my juices dripping from me again. A small sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, escaped my lips. I rocked my hips in the chair, moving myself against the humming vibrator, as my other hand slid over my breast. My fingers found my aching nipple, and I began squeezing it, gradually increasing the pressure as I parted my legs wider and slowly slid the vibrator into my dripping pussy.

When the vibrator had penetrated me deeply, I clamped my muscles tightly around it and held it there, feeling the vibration working its magic. I masturbated that way, fingers clamping hard on my nipple as my other hand held the vibrator buried deep inside me. I rocked my hips against the hard, unyielding toy, my breathing deep and ragged. When I felt the orgasm begin building within me, I twisted the knob on the vibrator, cranking it instantly to its maximum speed. The vibrations slammed through me, wrenching the orgasm out of me; I threw my head back, a series of short gasping moans escaping from me as my pussy twitched and spasmed.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, xslot Güncel Giriş it was over. I turned the vibrator off and slid it out of me, then brought my legs together, the soggy panties hanging loosely between them. I released my nipple with a little squeak, feeling the sudden pain as the blood rushed into it. The vibrator was thickly coated with my creamy juices; I slid it into my mouth, savoring the taste as I licked it clean.

Then I stood, kicking aside the panties as they fell to the floor, and picked up the new clothing. I walked naked into the bathroom, leaving my discarded clothes lying on the kitchen floor, to try on Mark’s gifts.

The new panties left precious little to the imagination; they were little more than a tiny triangle of satin, with lace in the front, tapering to a narrow G-string in the back. They slid up the crack between my cheeks as I put them on. I pulled them up tight, then turned my back to the mirror, looking over my shoulder as I leaned over and waggled my ass, admiring how the panties exposed my butt.

Next came the bra. I slipped it on, watching how it pressed my breasts together, lifting them and creating cleavage I didn’t even know I had. I posed in front of the mirror, running my hands over my body, turning this way and that. I felt incredibly sexy and feminine, the skimpy underwear accenting the soft curves of my body.

I went into the bedroom and rummaged in the closet, finding the skirt and blouse he’d told me to wear. The skirt, black and dark purple , ended well above my knee; Mark liked it because he appreciated what he called the “easy access” it allowed. The blouse was a white satin button-up number that fit me very tightly; with the added boost of the push-up bra, the thin material strained across my breasts.

Mark hadn’t specified what kind of shoes to wear, so I picked out a pair of boots I knew he’d like-dark leather, nearly knee-high, with a short heel. Long black socks completed the ensemble.

I returned to the bathroom to check out the effect. Dark red hair, short and spiky; pale skin, lightly dusted with freckles; hazel eyes; curvy, perky breasts straining against the tight white blouse; short skirt; long boots… I felt deliciously naughty. I ran my hands over my breasts again, pinching and squeezing my sensitive nipples until they stood erect, and turned sideways, admiring the effect in the mirror. I lifted my skirt, waggling my hips back and forth, until I could see the lace peeking out beneath it, and grinned impishly. It was a very sexy outfit, no doubt about it; almost, but not quite, too sexy to wear to the closing this morning…

..The closing! I’d gotten so carried away I’d almost forgot about it, and now I was running late. I scooped up my purse and dashed for the door, pausing only to snatch the vibrator off the kitchen table where I’d left it. I raced for my car, and drove to the office like a woman possessed. Fortunately, the morning commute had died down, and little traffic stood in my way.

I made it to the office with five minutes to spare, and waltzed into the conference room precisely on time, a stack of papers under my arm.

The closing went smoothly. I couldn’t really concentrate; my mind was occupied with what Mark might have in store for me this evening, and my arousal was like a steady background hum, keeping me from focusing. Twice during the proceedings, when I shifted in my chair I felt my own wetness, which made me feel delightfully, deviously naughty.

At one point, about midway through the closing, while the loan officer droned on and on about the finer points of fixed and variable rate interests, my mind wandered to the vibrator in my purse. A little tingle of excitement shot through me at the thought of masturbating right here at work, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face…or keep my nipples from hardening. I fantasized about taking myself right here on the conference room table, imagined what it would be like to strip myself naked, spread my legs wide, and attack myself rough and hard with my vibrator until I screamed in ecstasy. I closed my eyes as I pictured myself getting on my hands and knees and licking the puddle of wetness from the smooth, polished table, imagined the thrill I’d get from bringing a client into the conference room the next day for a boring, ordinary closing, secretly knowing what I’d done to myself right thee on that very table…

Nobody else took any notice. The buyers, a young newlywed couple, were purchasing their first house, and were much too excited to pay the slightest attention to anyone else. The loan officer was bored and disinterested; this probably wasn’t his first appointment of the day, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

At last, the paperwork was all signed and the closing was over. I shook hands with the happy buyers, noticing that the husband’s eyes swept me from head to foot as I did, and smiled inwardly, wondering if he’d be thinking about me later that night. I made polite small talk with the loan officer for a couple of minutes, then excused myself and headed for the ladies’ room. I locked myself in one of the stalls, then sat on the toilet seat, leaning my head back, and pinched my nipples through my blouse.

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