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KEEPING MY SLAVE REQUIRES EXTRAS: PART ONE HOW I TRIED TO KEEP MY SLAVE OCCUPIED AND SATISFIED. PART ONE Nicky was 23 years old, just arrived in Auckland from the UK for her first full time job after graduating uni with a masters. I picked her up at the airport. It was our first in-person meeting and the beginning of a recently agreed arrangement. “Hello Mr Handsome man,” she said with a smile once we’d found one another at the arrival hall and collided in an awkward hug. I loved the handsome man thing. I was thirty years older than her. She outshone her photos. Petite, busty, long dark hair framing a gorgeous face. Online, we’d agreed to six weeks of a Master/slave BDSM relationship. It would fill the whole time from her arrival in Auckland to the start of her job. She was hoping to have found something to move into on her own after the six weeks, and I had wondered if her motivation for the 24/7 live in agreement was free accommodation while she looked for rent, but she soon showed herself to be the real deal. She’d had three years’ experience as a submissive with a range of Doms and BDSM situations. Online, she described herself as a masochistic nympho who loved to get her slut on with older guys, mainly 40s through 60s, preferably more than one at a time, and the nastier the better as in "please don’t stop." I was to be her first Master. She wanted to try total daily control and CNC with a master who treated her as an object. She was new to this and so was I… my first Slave. But I was confident. I could only think of one problem. I didn’t participate in gang bangs or multiples of any kind. I mentioned that up front. Luckily, she interpreted my unwillingness to share her as a lovely romantic possessiveness… with an LOL. “But in that case,” she continued, “you must be extra hard on me, merciless! Ruthless!” LOL again. The limit of six weeks was her idea. She’d need to give the job full attention without distractions once she started, so that would be it. She also admitted being uncertain she could withstand the treatment she craved as a slave for longer than a few weeks. Even with a limited period she had anxieties. She asked whether I saw myself as careful and caring as well as hard and harsh. “I might need both,” she said. I liked the vulnerability peeping out from her veil of hard girl bravado. I assured her she was in good hands. “Well, Sir. We’ll see how we go I guess,” she said. I was on trial. I felt our first two weeks were okay. Better than okay. Her presence was a welcome change, and she was totally satisfying sexually. However, I was starting to wonder if I was falling short. I’d fuck her to exhaustion, torment her to my sadistic limits, and she kept coming up for more. Had I made a mistake ruling out gang bangs and relying only on my own skill and stamina to satisfy her? I started to worry. She was beautiful, obedient, clever, open, and vivacious and I was falling for her big time. But it occurred to me one day watching her with her head-phones on reading book on a lounger in the sun, that perhaps all she was falling for was my unlimited supply of gushing hot shower water, top range appliances and electronic gear, heated swimming pool, jacuzzi, spacious rooms and elevated decks with beautiful views of the islands in the harbour. If I wanted to keep her as my sex slave I needed to make a change before our six weeks ran out. I decided, despite my distaste for it, that the solution to my problem was to bring in extra cock and dominant stamina to assist me, and advertised on a few kink sites for guys or MF couples who would like to have her for a session. Looking back, I’m not sure why I thought this would be a good idea. Anyway, I decorated the offer with some anonymous pics of her in various positions and states and got a massive response. Several punters seemed worthwhile and were available for sessions in the next few days. I signed each of them up for full-on dates with Nicky, but under my strict rules. Nicky knew none of this. She’d claimed she liked being shared, in fact it was a disappointment for her that I was against it, so as her Master I decided she had no right, or need, to be consulted. On the day of the first date, I told her we were going to meet someone. She grinned and said, “interesting Sir. I trust you’ve checked him all out.” I nodded. However, I hadn't thought about that, I didn't know that much about the guy at all. He was waiting when we arrived at the venue I’d booked. He was below average looking, but tall with a good body, if a bit podgy, clean and well groomed, seemed late 30s early 40s. In the room, I removed Nicky’s coat for the big reveal. She was in nothing but heels, a thong, a skimpy bra and collar and leash. The guy, we didn’t exchange names, looked more than impressed. When I handed him her leash he made a joke with Nicky. I didn’t get it, but she smiled kind of smirky. He chatted a little with her, asked, “Did she know what she was up for?” Nicky seemed to light up as she nodded and said, "whatever you like Sir, I am ready." He said something in her ear that I couldn’t hear. She looked up at the ceiling, said “no Sir,” and then burst out laughing. After making her lose the shoes, thong and bra, he looked her up and down turning her slowly with a touch to her shoulders. Next, he ran his hands slowly and firmly all over her before getting more deliberate, pinching and twisting her tits, slapping her face, forcing her mouth open and pushing his hand into it. He bent her forward to whack her ass, from there he grabbed her hair to pull her down to her knees and then slowly backwards until she had to lie on the floor where he slapped her thighs apart and roughly fingered her cunt and ass. He stood on the leash close to her neck keeping her down when I interrupted him to go over the rules again. I was already doubting the wisdom of this plan. The rules, I reminded him, were that he could do anything he liked with her but no permanent damage, no scat, no burning, no electricity, no serious breath play. He had two hours. I’d be there the whole time and would end the session the second I thought it was too much for her. Yeah. All good mate, he said, and got started. I don't know what possessed me, maybe jealousy already, but I stopped him again and asked if he'd brought any STD free proof, as a belated check that would end the whole thing. Oh yeah, he said. I was gobsmacked. He reached in his pocket held out a paper for me, obviously well practiced at this, I glanced at the paper. It looked legit. He started back on her. Ignoring the leash, he grabbed her nipples to pull her up to a standing position and got a rope. I retreated to the far corner out of the way. Watching him on her was tough. Worse was watching her responses as he played with her, encouraged her, ordered her, hurt her, humiliated her, soothed her, fucked her, took her all the way...again, and again. She never once glanced at me for permission or assurance. She was his. I was irrelevant. That hurt, but regardless, the scene was hugely arousing. He had a few pieces of equipment with him. Nothing very fancy, a flogger, a crop, some clamps, etc. standard stuff. Everything he did was without hesitation, unrushed, deliberate, a practical man working with his tools. However, his most prominent piece of equipment was his cock, pulled out early, blatantly erect, almost insolently large. The two hours were racing by as I watched alert like never before as he focussed intently on her as if giving her undivided attention but without actually acknowledging her. The activity was accompanied by Nicky’s almost incessant non-verbal vocalisations, mainly uh uh uh…, at different pitches and frequencies in response to what was happening to her, broken occasionally with a please Sir… may I Sir…yes Sir…thank you Sir as he pounded, punished, and probed her. At one point I was about to call a halt. Nicky was sobbing, cheeks wet with tears. But I stopped myself, unsure, bewildered, out of my depth. At that very moment she seemed to have an enormous orgasm and the floor beneath her was spattered with her juice as she squirted, not once, not twice, but three times. Something I’d never seen anything like during my treatment of her. About half an hour later, the time was up. He seemed to know it without checking and stopped to finally unload all over her face and tits. He said something as a conclusion, I didn’t catch it, stunned as I was. He dressed, quickly gathered up his things, farewelled Nicky with nothing but a tap on her head, and a desultory, “hey thanks babe, that was great,” as she lay motionless on the floor legs akimbo, cunt still visibly pulsing. At the door he turned to me and said in confidential tones, “I’ll leave her with you,” went to go but turned again for his final benediction, “anytime, mate, call me up, love to do her for you again.” I gaped. The door closed. The atmosphere was desolate. I got Nicky up, wiped her off with a several tissues, wrapped her in her coat, holding her close, possessively, and asked her if she was alright. She said nothing, seemed to be in a fugue, vacant, silent, shivering occasionally. In the car she recovered. Her personality returned disturbingly bright. I was relieved though not pleased to learn that it was all “totally overwhelming, but in a good way…fucking amazing!” After we’d driven for a while. She asked, “he wasn't a friend of yours, obviously, was he?” And, “Fuck, he was hard on me. God I loved it.” She said it with a dreamy half laugh and a squeak as her body tensed, presumably in delight. I said nothing. She continued. “I thought you would have joined in Sir. How come? Was it cause you didn't know him?” I didn’t answer the question… or accusation? I was wounded that she was thinking I was weak, when he’d been amazing. In a semi-threatening tone I said, "well, you aren’t through yet, missy." As soon as we got home, I stripped off her coat, ordered her onto her knees, tits on the floor, thighs spread, ass high, cunt pushed out. She dropped to the position instantly. I got my cane and was about to whack her ass. But looking at the angry welts he’d left on her I walked away, left her there. Quarter of an hour later, I went back. She was still in position obediently waiting. She looked up enquiringly, crawled over to me and started to pull my cock out of my pants. “No,” I said, wearily. I was defeated. Next morning, I let her out of the cage. We’d only used it a couple of times, but I’d made her spend the night in it, hands cuffed to her collar. In my mind, it was a punishment for enjoying the guy so much, though I hadn't told her that. I uncuffed her and told her to shower and make me breakfast. When I’d eaten, I asked her if she was okay with what had happened to her the night before. “Oh, totally,” she said. “It wasn’t too much?” I asked hopefully. Maybe she didn’t really want that intensity of treatment. “It could’ve more,” she said. “But … if I can say…Sir…next time… if there is one… maybe you could join in? Just for me.” My battered ego rose. I stood her up. She was still naked, her required state at home, and spun her around. Some of the welts on her ass and tits were already fading a little a few of them might take a week or more. “I’m glad you liked it,” I said, “because tonight we’ve got another appointment.” “You’re really pimping me out." “This time it’s a couple, man, and woman.” “Ooooo!” she said. We’d planned to go out as vanilla for the day - she seemed doubly happy. Was it last night, or the vanilla outing, or the thought of more tonight, I wondered. Perhaps my scheme to keep her was working. I told her to wear whatever she liked. She reappeared in a light floral dress, a blue denim jean jacket and ox blood Doc Martin boots. She stood in front of me for approval. I pulled her in, reached under her dress and was pleased to find she’d kept to the panty-free rule. I fondled her sex for a while, she closed her eyes and spread her knees lowering herself onto my hand in welcome. She was insatiable or just very aware of her men and their cock-driven minds. We began with a round of mini golf which turned out to be hilarious and which she delighted in winning by an obscene margin, then a walk along the beach before a leisurely lunch chatting about her life growing up in London and Amsterdam where her father was from, and dreams of her architecture career. In the afternoon I took her shopping. First, a bookstore where I bought her a couple of classic novels she said she’d always wanted to read. Next, a shoe shop where we chose some boots that I thought would go well with her leashed walks when I allowed her to wear nothing but her collar, shoes and a coat. The coat was sometimes done up, sometimes not, left to swing open exposing her to the breeze and gaze of anyone who might have been around the secluded paths I chose. She observed that the boots would also be great with jeans or a skirt. She had an eye for fashion, and money. They were the most expensive footwear I’d ever purchased. Last we called into an adult store where I told her to find something she thought I’d like to use on her. She chose a clit-sucking vibrator she’d always wanted to try and a stainless-steel pear-of-anguish. At least that is what the picture on the box looked like although it was labelled “Vaginal/Anal Expander.” She said the idea of it both intrigued her and scared the hell out of her, though this thing wouldn’t do much damage, I thought, at least not like the alleged medieval torture device was purported to do. I bought both her choices. We spent the rest of the afternoon in anticipation of our couple’s date that night. At least I did. She searched the web for possible accommodation to move into at the end of our agreement. I tried to prepare mentally for the coming session. I was definitely going to get involved in the action this time, but nervous as hell about Nicky comparing me with whatever power stud turned up. Our six-week deadline was looming and I wanted her to enjoy not just the session but particularly me in it. She broke into my anguished musings to ask if I was okay to take her to a couple of appointments to view apartment options over the next week. I reluctantly agreed. The pear-of-anguish kept intruding my thoughts and I decided to add Nicky’s anguish to my own. I bent her over, lubed her up and worked the thing into her cunt, then pushed the plunger to open the leaves inside her and locked the padlock on. She made some mewling sounds while I did it but held still. She said it was making her cunt muscles pulse against the stretch it was giving them. “Is it painful?” I asked. “I do know that’s kind of the idea, but more uncomfortable and kind of stimulating,” she said. “Good,” I said. I left it in her, made her kneel down beside me and take my cock in her mouth just holding it there softly, warming it while I lay on the sofa watching an episode on Netflix. We still had three hours to wait till we met the couple. TO BE CONTINUED… |
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