HER EXTREME DESIRES FOR HER BREASTS
|
Postad:11 april 2024 6:44 pm
Senast Uppdaterad:18 april 2024 2:19 am 534 besök
|
A WOMAN REVEALS HER EXTREME DESIRES TO ME ONLINE; BUT IS SHE FOR REAL? DOES SHE WANT ME TO HELP HER EXPERIENCE THEM?
I asked her what she wanted.
- Destruction of my tits, she said.
Meaning? I asked.
- I want them to look damaged and ugly so that it would be humiliating to reveal them to anyone.
I asked what they looked like now. [She sent a pic of herself in a bikini. Her breasts looked perfect.]
It would seem the ultimate sin to obliterate that sexual beauty, I said.
- Ha! Thank you.
I wouldn’t destroy them. But I would do things to them that might require a long recovery, or that would have a long-lasting effect.
- Like what?
Whip them to bleeding. Using a flogger with metal tipped tails. Put needles through your nipples and leave them in so they constantly pulled on your clothes. Bind them very tightly with wire and whip them in their binding.
- Barbed wire? She asked.
Maybe, I said, though it’s very difficult to bend it into tight circles. I’d need to hold your breasts with vice grips while I bent the barbed wire round them and twisted the wire up tight with pliers. Tight enough to get the breasts swollen so the barbs dug right into them. Otherwise, no point in the barbed wire.
- Ok. I like that. I mean I think I would want that.
I could brand them, to mark them, like a manufacturer’s brand mark, or my ownership mark. That would be permanent and could be humiliating.
- How would you do it?
With a red-hot wire bent in the shape of the mark. It would need to be thick wire to hold enough heat to burn deep into your breast skin to make it permanent. I’d have to heat it up to with a gas torch till it was glowing and then press it straight on to your breast.
- I would be so scared.
Wouldn’t that be the idea?
- Yes, it would.
I’d need to tie you to a post, immobilised, with your breasts available to me unprotected. I’d leave you there for a while anticipating what was to come, I said.
- For days?
For an hour or two. You wouldn’t know how long. it might seem like days. You’d be hooded and gagged. When I was ready to brand you, I’d take the hood off so you could see it happening.
- I would be crying.
Good. I wouldn’t care.
- Thank you. That’s what I would want. I love cruel men who do what they say.
I’d need the underside of your tits exposed. That’s where I’d put the brand, so it was only visible in intimate situations. And it would hurt more there as well.
- Oh god.
Is this making you wet?
- Yes.
Do you want to masturbate?
- Yes.
Save it for later.
- I can’t. BRB
- I’m back
Did you cum?
- Mmmmmmm
I’d like to have been able to whip you for cumming without permission. But I’m not there and you’re not my sub…yet…
- Mmmm
Getting back to what we were talking about. Tell me the most extreme thing you’ve had done to your breasts so far? I asked.
- I’ve had them nailed to a table while I was whipped.
Where whipped?
- Arse.
Were the nails put through, your nipples?
- Yes, and around the edges of my tits as well.
Did the pain make you cum?
- Yes, when I was being whipped.
Was it good?
- It was the best I’ve ever experienced.
I think in that case, to get the underside of your breasts exposed for the branding I’d attach your nipples to a piece of wood with a staple gun and then suspend the wood high up as high as possible, so the tits were pulled up tight exposing their underside.
- Yes!
I’d put a vibrating dildo in your cunt and keep it in there with duct tape, so it was distracting you. Maybe enough to lessen the pain a little while I burned the brand in. First to one. And then I’d wait for several long minutes before doing the other.
- OMG please. Would you brand my clit too?
Maybe. I’m a lot less keen on damaging your pleasure bud permanently.
- OK. Would you hang me by my tits?
I’ve never done that. But willing to experiment with a willing sub. I’m good at breast bondage. I’d want to be careful as well as sadistic with that one.
- Do you have a house in NZ?
Yes.
- Is it near to neighbours?
Not very.
- Do you live alone?
Yes. Do you want to visit?
- It is very tempting.
[Nothing has eventuated…yet! And not likely to. She lives on the other side of the world from me.]
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
HOW FAR WILL THE MILF GO?
|
Postad:2 april 2024 8:36 pm
Senast Uppdaterad:16 april 2024 8:00 pm 1972 besök
|
THE BDSM ADVENTURES OF LARRY, STEVE, ROB, JIM, KEITH, CHERYL, MONIQUE, KATHRYN (NOT THEIR REAL NAMES) AND ME, INCLUDING MANY BDSM SCENES AND IDEAS, SADO-MASOCHISM, TABOO, THE GOOD AND THE BAD AND ULTIMATELY THE BREAKUPS
Monique had a perfect body for our purposes, 5 foot 5 inches tall, 55 kg, 38D cup, beautifully curved and toned. Her face was striking if not beautiful, slightly longer than normal oval shape with a narrow nose like a Modigliani portrait framed with lush straight dark hair. Her physical form came with a personality rather shy and prudish, unusual for the lifestyle, but she was also desperate to please.
Sadly, she would be the cause of my departure.
We’d lost our previous slave, Cheryl, who’d been one of the wives. That all fell through when she decided she wanted to divorce Keith and they both left the group. Larry suggested Monique as a replacement. He’d found her online. She was 35, single, never married, hadn’t had a relationship for years, was totally new to BDSM but keen to be trained and experience it. Online, she’d given no specifics, no limits, no preferences, though she hinted she might be a masochist, only based on what she’d seen and read, nothing she’d experienced.
When Larry met her in person he was surprised by her prim outfit and rather prudish manner. A stark contrast to the desires she’d claimed online. However, after he’d given her a fair description of our group’s activities she said, “it sounds just like what I was hoping for.”
Larry’s recommendation of her was not without reservation. He wondered if her conservative ethos might hold her back from full participation once in the thick of it. Still, on looks alone he felt she’d be worth pursuing. We decided to check her out in a formal interview. She arrived immaculately dressed, office style, looking anxious though composed. After Larry introduced Steve, Jim, Rob and me, we were all sitting with him behind his office board table, he went straight to ordering her to strip.
There was some squirming, some sighed “Oh no’s,” and appeals to alternatives like having just Larry in the room for it and worries about not being prepared for “jumping right in at the deep end.”
“I hope you don’t think this is the deep end,” Jim quipped, and we all laughed with him, but friendly-like, and she said she could see we were all nice guys, but it was just that she’d never done anything like this before.
Nice? I thought, hopefully she'll find out soon enough.
Finally, she slowly undressed in front of our unrelenting gaze. She looked great, and more so as more was revealed. Standing there naked and nervous, trying to hide herself until Larry told her to put her arms down so we could see her properly, she hesitantly answered the most intrusive questions we could think of about her sexual history and what she might be willingly to agree to if she joined us, Her face, neck and even her breasts were blushing through most of it, and her nipples stiffened at many of the questions. An encouraging sign, I felt, and I wasn’t the only one pleased that she bashfully agreed to a hands-on try-out, to see if she’d like what we did, and if we’d like doing it to her.
Scheduling a date for the trial run proved difficult, however, and I wondered if it was her way of backing out gracefully. But eventually we got there, working around the times of her job at the law firm, her Pilates sessions, her night classes to finish her law qualifications, the weekends that were dedicated to family time, and the need to use a day that her 17-year-old only daughter would be staying at her grandmother's as she did on four nights a week to be closer to the high school. Monique was adamant that her daughter never got even a hint of what she would be doing with us.
Apparently, one big attraction in our arrangement was that it didn’t involve men coming around to her house or staying over. Problems with past boyfriends encroaching on the close relationship she had with her daughter in their intense little two-person family meant she’d been celibate for the last four years. We were worse than any boyfriend in so many ways, but that seemed all okay by her so long as we were bound to secrecy, and we never showed up at her place or met her daughter. It suited us. We didn’t want anyone outside the group knowing the things we did, or who we were.
The try-out session went well. She proved willing and totally obedient, despite her coy strip at her interview, though in my view very little of it was challenging. Larry wanted to start off slow to avoid scaring her off. We didn’t fuck her that time. For all our sakes we wanted to have her formally agree first, to avoid later misunderstandings that could lead to grievances and charges. So at the end of the try-out after only one query and scant perusal she signed the extensive BDSM slave contract Steve had drawn up as the lawyer of the group and gave over the STI clearance we requested, flickering an embarrassed grimace as she handed it to Larry.
Next session was the first fuck. Rob did the honours. When erect he is a sight to behold. She looked alarmed when the monster sprang forth from his pants and got a little vocal, and not in a good way, as he drove slowly and seemingly endlessly all the way into her vagina where he rammed her while we held her down. Larry asked if she was alright when Rob had finished in her. She seemed relieved but ready to receive the next more average cock in the line-up.
That night her vagina made up for its years of neglect and at the end of the session, she was totally wired, surprising us by saying with unmasked excitement that it felt just like an abduction and gang r4pe. I thought to myself, that’s a fantasy scene she’s been masturbating to.
Another significant moment was the first pain experience we put her through. It was the very next session. After giving her a safe word, Jim got her into a wheelbarrow position and spanked her arse with a heavy leather paddle for about 20 minutes, intermittently fingering her cunt and anus that were conveniently presented to him by the position. She got distressed about halfway through, and Larry stroked her back and shoulders while explaining that the more she complained the more it turned Jim on. I reached under to milk her dangling tits and then put some strong alligator-type clamps on her nipples to give her something else to feel and maybe take her mind off her burning arse cheeks as the beating continued.
It was just after that we discovered she really was the masochist she’d originally claimed. When Jim finished on her arse, we turned her round so I could fuck her while Jim used her mouth. At my end of her I found a sopping wet cunt pulsing in desperate anticipation. I took the opportunity to lubricate her arsehole with her excess juice and shove my way in her dark hole rather than her cunt, yearning for cock though it was. Driving through her tight sphincter was easier than I had anticipated. Even so, I learned later that I was popping her anal cherry, and as it was happening, she managed to get off Jim’s cock to say, “NO!” But I was already right in her. After a few thrusts she shocked me by cumming with such a powerful clamping on my cock I spurted prematurely. It turned out, as she admitted when interrogated about it afterwards, she’d been fingering herself while we were spit-roasting her.
Larry said she should be punished right then and there for cumming without permission, and for touching herself while she was with us, though we’d never told her of those prohibitions apart from in the fine print of the contract she’d signed. “Start as you mean to go on” was Larry’s management motto. She begged, "No, no. Sorry Sir. I didn't know. Please." There were tears. But he bent her over the table, anyway, tied her to it and after repeating the safe word for her again, caned her already rosy arse cheeks before fucking her himself. She came again. We all followed suit, caning her and fucking her. By the time all five of us had her on the table, her butt and upper thighs were well striped with welts, and she’d cum powerfully at least twice more as far as we could tell, and her faces was streaked with tears.
Back in the days of slave Cheryl, Larry had introduced a proper aftercare routine to end each session, so that she wouldn’t leave without emotional warmth after enduring a couple of hours of often painful and always humiliating sexual abuse. For some reason Larry was the guy who always did the aftercare. Her husband Keith felt it had to be someone other than him for it to be meaningful and Larry was possibly the warmest of us. Anyway, when we’d finished with Monique that day he hugged her, wrapped her in a blanket, complimented her on her performance. She was silent but you could tell she was loving nestling into Larry. For some reason that pissed me off. When he asked her how it had been for her, she said, it was "fantastic thank you, I loved it particularly when you were strict with me."
But a bit further into the conversation, she contradicted herself saying it was “excruciating.” Was it the punishment? No not that. She expected that to be painful. It was that she’d never “climaxed” with a man before, and while it was "amazing" and she was so grateful she also felt totally “mortified” having several men staring at her as it happened. "Oh God, it was so awful," she said “I just couldn't stop, over and over”. She sobbed a little as she spoke about the fact that her climaxes had always before been "such a private thing" and today with "you all" around, she felt… she searched for words... “a brazen hussy.” Larry suggested that could be a good thing for the future. She managed a smile at that.
When Larry sought to clarify what she meant by her sudden “No!” when I’d entered her anus, she assured us she never meant to stop anything, and hadn't said the safe word. It was just a reaction to her “poor bottom,” as she called it, getting “violated” for the first time. She knew it had to happen sometime and guessed she’d get used to it, and even admitted that “in the end it was quite nice.” Faint praise, I thought. She ended that conversation with a manifesto that sealed her fate: “Please...Just do it, whatever you’re going to do to me, even if I don’t want it, that’s what I want, to have no say, no safe word, nothing, no matter how awful you are to me, no matter what I say when it’s happening." she paused, "there...Oh God. I've said it now." And she clenched her hands under the blanket and pressed them to her eyes.
Rob was still naked, and his monster cock started bobbing at this declaration. The session was over, but he told Larry he needed her to suck him off. Like it was Larry’s to say? But I guess he was holding her all tightly wrapped up. I was in for her to service me as well. Jim was just as happy not, but ready to help if she needed encouragement and he brandished his riding crop. Steve said he had to leave to meet his wife and took off. And Larry? Well, he was dithering. He’d already finished everything off nicely and wasn’t sure it would be appropriate. But Monique simply said, “Oh” kind of like she was in despair as she often did, looked at Larry as if for guidance and support, but getting none broke away from him and the blanket and dropped to her knees in front of Rob. Watching her struggle with his enormous wang in her pretty, prissy mouth got me hard as I had been at any time during that session.
I should explain that by “prissy” mouth I mean her habit of avoiding all crude sexual language, preferring to say “having me” or “doing me” or “entering me” rather than “fucking me;” or “my breasts” instead of “my tits;” and “down there” rather than “my cunt” or even “my pussy” and “my bottom;” or “back there” not “my arse” or “arsehole” or the anatomically correct “anus;” and to us, “your member” or “your thing” not “your cock” or even your “penis”. It was one of her quirks that made her sexual humiliation so much more appealing. Sometimes we’d order her to use rough talk and call herself a “cum-slut’ or ‘fuck-meat,” just to watch the dismay on her face as she said it. Though I’m sure she was aware that she was certainly those things.
When she’d finally sucked the three of us off that day, including Larry who joined in despite the disruption of his tender aftercare wind down, he put his arm around her again wiped her face off and helped her into her coat and shoes, which were all she was allowed to wear coming to sessions. She kissed his cheek goodbye. Which I noted with surprise. We’d long ago agreed to prohibit kissing during our group sessions as building the wrong sort of relationships for what we were doing. I reckon Monique loved Larry, even then. At least she liked him more than the rest of us. She possibly just tolerated us for Larry.
Anyway, as things went on, we got a lot freer with Monique than we ever were with Cheryl. One reason was that Monique was a lot hotter than Cheryl. Not that Cheryl wasn’t attractive, she was and to be fair she’d kept us going hard for a year and more. But as well as being hot, Monique, with her lack of experience, would do or allow anything she was told regardless of the distress with which she might greet the “disgusting” degradation of it.
Cheryl on the other hand was experienced, had defined limits, and knew how to make no mean no if she needed to. Most limiting of all, Cheryl was the wife of one of us. Keith would often take her part, coming over all hangdog saying, “guys we gotta stop with” this or that, when she’d told him off at home. He seemed under her control, even scared of her. Though in sessions he was extremely aggressive physically and verbally calling her pig, bitch, whore, slut far more than any of us, and in a nasty way that could be worrying. Not long before they left us Cheryl told me what upset her with Keith. They never had sex at home. Without the group she’d get nothing sexually, which was the main reason she stayed with us. She so wanted Keith to fuck her at home every night like she was his one and only forever wife, his and only his, but he wouldn't. I wasn’t surprised they were separating.
There was none of that complication with Monique. Our dealings with her revolved solely around BDSM sex sessions with no other expectations or restrictions, and we freely explored our sado-sexual potential with her to the full.
Soon she was ending sessions covered with welts, bruises, the marks of hot wax or ropes or whatever, spattered with cum and piss, her hands over her aching nipples and often so sore between her legs, or so orgasmed out of her mind, that she could barely walk. Miraculously, she always recovered for the next session and came back eager for more use and abuse.
On one weekend-long session in Larry’s cabin, we got talking about ramping things up even further. It’s worth pointing out, no doubt as many know, that this is a constant problem for arrangements based purely on sexual kink and excitement. How to keep it exciting?
We’d been at her for the whole day, and we were relaxing around the fire in the evening smoking cigars. Steve had been researching chastity belts and was suggesting that we put her in one. His idea was to lock her in 24/7. It would be humiliating and embarrassing for her to have to wear a belt all the time, a constant reminder of what and whose she was.
It would also mean, if we were serious about the 24/7 aspect, only fucking her in the arse or mouth, at the same time removing entirely the risk of pregnancy. Monique falling pregnant was something that terrified Steve as a married Catholic who didn’t agree with abortion. BDSM can vacuum up a strange group of internally conflicted travellers. Rob pointed out she was on the Pill. “How can we be sure,” Steve said squinting interrogatively.
Jim observed with lascivious glee that the greatest impact of the belt was that it would prevent Monique cumming, the plate on the one Steve favoured covered her clit completely. Monique had astounded us with her intense and explosive orgasms. Commonly they’d last for several minutes, rising and subsiding in waves, and quite often causing her to ejaculate pulsing fountains of fluid, for which she never overcame her embarrassment, thinking it was “so dirty”. Precisely because her squirts disgusted her, Jim had collected some of the spray in a glass and made her drink it. She thought it would be urine that was coming out of her, with a temporary loss of bladder control during her titanic orgasmic contractions, but it didn't look like urine, and she said after sipping it that it didn't taste like it either. She was thoroughly familiar with the taste of piss by then, well, our piss that is.
Sometimes we’d make her cum over and over again without mercy, just for the pure delight of watching her in the agony and the ecstasy of it. And as we’d found that pain increased her climatic potential, we didn’t hold back from giving her a generous helping of it.
To locate the most powerful orgasmic nexus on her body, we had explored her topography thoroughly, like she was some suped up robot version of a Real Girl sex doll, and we were searching out all her controls and settings. Her three holes were always liberally used, and her tits and nipples imaginatively abused, all of which wound her up sexually. But it was her mental and emotional functions that seemed to produce her greatest libidinous states. The humiliation and degradation we dished out to her every session got her ramped right up to the point of almost instant orgasm at a touch. But to actually get her off the touch needed to be directly on her clit or in her vagina, whether she touched herself there while we were abusing her, (something she couldn’t help despite the harsh punishments she got for it) or with dildoes, vibrators, cocks, fingers, fists, etcetera.
When Rob wondered what the advantage of stopping Monique cumming would be, I couldn’t help agreeing with him. We loved getting her to explode.
Jim saw things very differently. With the strictures of the chastity belt her motivation could no longer be the enormous pleasure she got each session. It could only be her obedience and service to the desires of the group. She'd be the perfect sex slave. Just there for our amusement and pleasure and nothing but our satisfaction. It would test her commitment to us.
With a tone of sensitive regret mixed with obscene realisation, Larry added that never getting release would likely keep her twitched right up, ready and open to anything all the time. “But she’s open to anything now,” Rob objected.
As we discussed her as if she wasn't there, Monique was kneeling silently beside my chair, collared with a chain dangling between her beautiful but bruised tits their nipples tightly clamped, and just having had her evening meal of a piece of bread that we’d all jerked off onto to make a soggy, jizzy, porridge-like mess that she had to lap up out of a pet bowl and lick it clean. It was an amusing way of getting our cum inside her.
So, I turned to her and asked what she thought of the idea. Jim looked annoyed. He was pissed off that I was including her when according to our rules she should have no say in what we did to her. But Steve showed her pictures of the belt on his iPad regardless. She was intrigued by how it worked and studied the photos and diagrams. It was mostly thick wire sheathed in plastic that would go around her waist and between her legs with an open circle over her anus giving plenty of room for defecation and intrusion. The cunt and clit were completely covered by a shaped metal plate that was perforated at the bottom for urine to run out. Some fine print stated it could all be easily cleaned while locked on with the use of a handheld showerhead and it was high grade stainless steel so no rusting. With her finger Monique traced the line of the belt as it would be across her body and between her legs taking in the idea of it.
When she'd seen the video of the model demonstrating it, she said, “so if I were constantly locked in it, I really would have no relief…ever” She looked at Larry. “But you would take it off me for sessions, wouldn't you?” She got a, “no, probably not".
She had other questions about what she could do for her “time of the month”, or “grooming down there,” or at the doctor’s if she was locked in the belt? The “doctor” referred to the check-ups we made her have at the sexual health clinic, not because we thought she’d have anything. It was just for sexual humiliation, having to go every fortnight like a prostitute, keeping her sexual slavery to the front of her mind.
Back when she had joined us, out of our shared concern for disease-free sex we agreed with her and each other not to use anyone else - apart from allowing our three partnered-up group members to meet their conjugal obligations. Jim and Steve were married, and Larry had a long-term live-in girlfriend.
That made the frequent sessions essential for the two of us who were single, being Rob and me. All we were getting was Monique. It was pretty certain that she didn’t go with anyone else. As well as the fact that she was transparently honest, the condition we left her in each session wasn’t conducive to stripping off in front of someone.
In the end, we bought the belt and locked her in it. Larry gave her a key to use for the issues she’d raised. Technically ingenious as he was, he had sealed it in wax with the imprint of his signet ring in it. She could break it open, if necessary, but the key had to be presented still sealed in its wax at each session or a satisfactory reason given. If the reason was deemed inadequate, she’d be harshly punished on two counts, disobedience, and likely masturbation. Actually, she was mostly punished no matter what reason she gave, adequate or not. Jim and Steve were hard to hold back when it came to punishments.
On the matter of punishments, Jim came up with what he called “compassionate challenges” that she could chose instead of a punishment. One of these had been offered to her after she admitted she’d taken the belt off to go to the beach with her daughter, though she’d sworn she hadn’t masturbated. Nevertheless, she was going to be punished. As it was described to her, she would be bound, gagged and electro-tortured, first with wires attached to her nipples, her clit, and labia, and then by a dildo with electrode wires running up its sides that would to be inserted into her vagina. However, to avoid all that she could accept the challenge of going into a pub and convincing three random guys to let her suck them off in the toilet while she recorded it on her phone. As turned on by pain and humiliation as she was, she was utterly terrified of electro and would do anything to avoid it as Jim knew. It was he who’d devised the punishment and the “compassionate” challenge.
That time, though clearly hating the challenge almost as much as the punishment, she opted for it, but only after begging it down to just two guys. In the end, she only managed one, and when this was revealed, Jim went to give her the electro anyway. She burst into imploring tears. Larry, always a soft touch, intervened and downgraded the punishment to a heavy cunt whipping, which probably turned her on rather than punishing her, masochist that she was, particularly as the belt needed to be taken off for it. I would have sided with Jim that time. Don't promise a slave and not deliver.
We often played the video of her pub blowjob to tease her. The guy had only agreed to it if she got her tits out. You could see how humiliated she was as she watched the video with the guy only visible from the waist down, and her, tits dangling in the jerky image, head bobbing on his cock, cradling his balls with one hand while her other hovered out to the side somewhere holding her phone camera while she tried to turn her head enough to see if they were in shot. In the end the guy pushed her off and jerked himself off on her face and tits. Obediently, she’d kept videoing until he’d finished cumming.
As Larry had predicted her enforced lack of sexual relief made her more willing and ready for our attentions than we would have thought possible. She was desperate to meet with us whenever we called her, often breaking the appointments and commitments she’d highlighted as sacrosanct at the very beginning. She admitted, in her prudish way, that she became hugely excited whenever we summoned her. The forced abstinence kept the “worst sexual thoughts” constantly in her mind with an “electric arousal” throughout her whole body so that our merest touch anywhere would have at the edge.
After a two months Rob suggested we remove the belt and go back to having the “orgasmic Monique” he’d enjoyed so much. And Monique had asked at almost every session since she’d been locked in when she’d be released. Larry, always Larry in charge of her somehow, agreed it was probably time. Steve was uncertain but leaning towards keeping her in it. Jim wanted her to have to exchange something for her release. I asked him what he thought that could be. His answer stunned me. “Her daughter.”
In explanation, he told us that last week he’d seen Monique with her daughter at the outdoor tables of a beach café, and he assured us we’d be impressed.
Now, we’d all agreed that none of us would make any contact with Monique outside of sessions, for reasons of discretion and confidentiality, but also to avoid special side-relationships with her. So Jim had done the right thing when he first saw her that day and kept a safe a distance. However, he was drawn to getting a closer view of the daughter who was fully on display in a minimal string bikini and looking “very interesting”. Monique noticed him lurking, and for some reason he couldn't explain, instead of walking off he went right up said hello and introduced himself to the daughter using a fake name and claiming to be an old work colleague of Monique’s. The daughter gave her name as Kathryn. He chatted with her for a moment, but she seemed to be sensing her mother’s tension and Jim thought a quick exit was needed. He decided, again he couldn't explain why, that a credible departure would be to ask for Monique’s number so he could contact her about a supposed “work thing.” Monique played along despite looking annoyed and anxious, and in exchange her gave her his mobile number to complete the impromptu performance.
Up until that point, the only option that we all had to contact each other was via a group on the Messenger app. It was used to summon Monique and make session arrangements. There was no need for personal contact details to be shared, and we had agreed they never would be. Jim had now breached that understanding, and Monique had participated in it. Of course, it would only be Monique who’d be liable for punishment even though it wasn’t her fault.
A few days later Monique compounded her transgressions by using the personal phone number Jim had given her to text him with a request to meet her ASAP. Their sins against the group’s rules piled up as Jim agreed to the one-on-one meet, which apparently had occurred earlier on the day he was telling us all this.
At their clandestine get-together, Monique told Jim she didn’t know how to break it to Larry that her daughter knew what was going on and this now confronted her with the most awful dilemma that she'd been desperate to avoid. It had all come out when Monique had found a BDSM website Kathryn had left open on their desktop computer, whether accidentally or on purpose. When asked about it she told Monique she’d been researching BDSM and chatting online with Doms for quite a while now, mostly whenever she was staying over with her grandmother. Monique was frantic. She warned her that it was no way to meet decent men and told her to stop.
Kathryn’s response to that was to press her autonomy in matters of sex, since she was grown up now, she’d just turned 18, adding that anyway she knew what Monique had been up to all this time, and that that guy at the beach was involved in it somehow. Her slam dunk was that if it was good enough for her mother to be into BDSM, why on earth couldn’t she, because it all looked “really hot and a total turn on.”
How had she found out about Monique’s involvement? It was the chastity belt; she'd seen it through a gap in Monique's robe one day and searched online for what it might be. "So, this little disaster is entirely down to you and your twisted friends.” Monique was steely angry. Jim had never seen her like this. It was like she was a completely different person and she let it all out. How could she steer Kathryn away from the dangers of the “creeps and predators” of the BDSM world, jabbing her finger at Jim, when she was being such a hypocrite? How did she ever let herself get dragged down and caught up in this disgusting depravity? She'd told Jim she'd come to a big decision for the good of everyone involved but mainly for her and Kathryn. She was going to stop all the obscene activities with us. That was it, and she’d asked Jim to explain it to Larry because she couldn’t face letting him know she was leaving after everything they’d been together.
Larry and she had been together? I have to say, that bit surprised me whatever she meant by it. But when I thought more, it didn't.
Jim said she’d ended her rant sobbing with her head in her hands. He tried to comfort her, so her could talk her out of it, but she shrugged him away. That was the end of his story.
It was a shock. ‘What exactly is your idea, Jim?” I said. returning to the point he was making before this all came out.
“Okay, this isn’t completely crazy,” he began. “If Monique agrees to convince her daughter to join us, we put the daughter in chastity, and Monique is released from her belt. That’s the trade”
And with that he proved that it was indeed completely crazy. It was a terrible idea. “How would that help anything you’ve just told us?”
“It would satisfy the daughter’s BDSM interests, for a start, and Monique could observe, maybe supervise. Less worry for her.”
“Or more” I interrupted.
He ignored me. “Think! Monique wouldn’t have to leave us. We’d get two women, one of whom is a virgin. At least that’s what Monique thinks.” That seemed to excite him mightily. "We can train her from the beginning of her sexual development. Condition her for total use and service."
Larry intervened. “I better deal with this.” I agreed with that even though it irked me. It was best Larry talked to Monique. He’d found her in the first place - and had apparently had a close bond with her - from what we’d just heard anyway.
And the situation was critical. Far worse than just losing Monique, which was bad enough. The risk of a female sex slave leaving our sort of situation in a bad and angry state hung over us. The possible consequences were huge. Where might she take her grievance? How would we explain it to anyone not of our bent? Hopefully, Larry could calm things down and smooth over her departure if in the end that’s what she wanted.
Later that evening Larry called us back together. I expected to hear the worst, that Monique was leaving, and she was furious with us. But no. To the contrary, we learnt that Monique had agreed to her daughter joining in, and to the belt swap, and to staying with us herself. I couldn’t believe it. Evidently, it had been a difficult and emotional decision. No surprise there. Monique torn by the dilemma of maternal responsibility versus continuing with her BDSM, which she had admitted to Larry she needed awfully. Monique had eventually conceded on the basis that Kathryn only did BDSM stuff with our group. Jim had won, at least Larry had made Jim’s victory.
There was one condition that both females had insisted on. It would always be Larry who decided what happened with Kathryn in our sessions. It seemed Larry had worked his magic on the daughter as on the mother. “You can all use her,” he reassured us, “But I’ve promised to make sure it’s safe and not too much for her. It’s the only way we keep Monique and keep her happy with things.”
Sure enough, at the next session the daughter turned up with Monique. The four of us, not Larry, were like dogs around the fresh meat. They were both wrapped in long coats. Uncharacteristically, Monique held hers tightly closed and had to have it removed by Larry revealing her naked as required and as she always had been at every session up until now, but this time it must have been humiliating in a different way for her, to be so in front of her daughter.
The daughter’s coat was gently removed, also by Larry, revealing her in a very short skirt barely covering her butt and a camisole top that showed a hint of her free breasts through it. She was eye-catching, taller than her mother like teenagers these days, and slightly chunkier. Her dark hair was tightly tied in a long ponytail, and she was wearing glasses. The studious look belied her open-for-business clothing choices. Enigmatic as her mother!
Larry introduced us. Kathryn smiled but reverted immediately to an anxious blankness. Monique looked nervy. The instructions, given by Larry under his new responsibility were that Kathryn could stay clothed and just watch for the first part of the session to decide if she wanted to stay on. We got started as we normally would, but the atmosphere was far different from what I’d become used to. Less free, more cautious and inhibited. Larry did his best to keep it rolling though, and Jim was smiling like the proverbial Cheshire cat.
First up, there was Monique’s punishment to deal with for her wrongdoings with Jim. Jim apologised to everyone, including Monique for what had happened, and volunteered to administer Monique’s chastisement. He loved punishment time. But Larry pointed out that since he was complicit maybe that would be unreasonable, and Rob stepped up.
I wondered how this would go after everything that had happened. Would Monique refuse to go through with it. Or complain. Or exert her new power in the form of her daughter and her reluctant return to us. Instead, she silently complied as Rob led her to her fate. Normally, I’d be wondering if her constantly aroused masochistic self was actually eager to receive this so-called punishment. But this time she was trembling slightly and deliberately not looking at Kathryn as Rob tied her hands to a ceiling hook. Her shame before her daughter was palpable. It wasn’t the sort of humiliation I wished her to suffer.
Rob tightened her bonds stretching her up onto her toes. As he pulled cable ties tight around her breasts they swelled and pointed prominently as if reaching for their thrashing. He took up the leather flogger considering his approach and touched one distended nipple with a finger asking if she could still feel it. She nodded. He pinched it hard and then rolled it in his thumb and forefinger finally twisting and pulling it then letting the tit spring back into shape like a taught balloon. Stepping back stretching the tails of the whip out tight and straight between his raised hands he readied for the strike to the nipple. “Good shot,” said Steve as the whip hit the target. Then he repeated on the other side. Rob took his time enjoying his task, changing the angle of attack to hit fresh areas of the breasts, pausing now and then to touch and manipulate the protruding forms that were fabulously sexualised in their degrading bindings, and making her count for every deliberately placed lash. The count for each breast got to 50 before he stopped.
He took her down, let her rest for a few minutes before making her kneel face down arse up, where he tied her hands to her ankles and caned her well displayed and stunningly beautifully pert and rounded cheeks till she was crying out in pain with each stroke.
Kathryn, if she was distressed by the harsh beatings and sexual torture of her mother let alone seeing her naked in a room of clothed overpowering men remained stoically focussed. Perhaps whatever she’d seen of BDSM online kept her emotions steady. Once or twice, she gasped a little or muttered “poor mum.” When Monique was untied, she rushed back to Kathryn, her bright red breasts bouncing in their cable ties. Kathryn leapt up to hug her, “Mum, are you okay?” Monique nodded, but said, “No!” and laughed. “Oh Mum.” Kathryn said holding her tight.
Larry left them in their consoling embrace for a few minutes before telling Monique the next part of her punishment. I have to say, it astounded me. Maybe if Jim had thought of it. But Larry…?
He told Monique to remove Kathryn’s panties and to go down on her. Kathryn was open-mouth shocked. Monique appeared uncertain and for a moment I thought, even hoped, that she would refuse, which would have been a first. But she knelt and began as commanded. Larry was behind Kathryn holding her in position, pushing her legs apart with his knees so Monique could get right in there. Kathryn’s eyes were blank I wondered what was going through her mind with her own mother lapping at her clit, and the sight of cocks, Jim’s and Steve’s, that were now pulled out thick and stiff in front of her.
Larry pulled her camisole off over her head and held her arms down by her sides to prevent them instinctively covering her breasts, breasts that like her mother’s sat beautifully on her chest with good sized nipples and nice areola to set them off. I watched Kathryn with involuntary but undeniable lust turned right up to 11. Only 18 years old she was in full fresh bloom, her long smooth legs quivered slightly, shoulders leaning back on Larry, hips pushed forward, nipples hard, face flushed, eyes half lidded, mouth slack emitting barely audible little moans to accompany the slurp of her mother at her sex.
After about five minutes, during which we were all reverentially silent, only the delicate cunnilingus noises filling the void, Kathryn’s breath quickened and held, and at last she seemed to cum with quiet gasps and a shudder. Her mother looked up at her, stood and hugged her, pushing Larry away, with tears filling her eyes saying, “it’s alright honey.” To me it didn’t seem alright at all.
Eventually, Larry thrust his arm between them and turned Kathryn to face him hands on her shoulders. She was still in her short skirt, now marked in a couple of spots with moisture, her juice or her mother’s spit, and her hands were over her breasts. She cocked her head quizzically. What would come next? Where I would’ve expected timidity and shame she had the bravado of youth, steady in the face of the five older men, all bigger and stronger than her, all obviously eager to wrest their pleasure from her body.
“Okay Kathryn,” said Larry, “you’ve seen what you’ve seen, and experienced a little. Do you want to stay any further with us today?”
“I think so,” she replied.
“Is that a definite yes or a maybe?” Larry said.
“A yes. Definitely.”
Monique looked conflicted but sighed as if in relief.
“Ok. Some rules.” Larry gave her the basics, do as you’re told, don’t argue, don’t resist, don’t speak unless we ask you, always be totally honest with us about everything, if you need to stop us because you can’t carry on or because it hurts too much or its too hard for you, say the word RED very clearly to make sure we hear you. She agreed it all. He reminded her of what she’d seen done to her mother and told her that we would hurt her sometimes as well, particularly but not only if she didn’t do as she was told. She nodded but added, “maybe not as hard to start with, Sir.” Larry smiled all indulgent.
She answered some questions he put to her confirming she was a virgin but that a boy had put his fingers into her lots of times during their kissing sessions, though nothing else, she didn’t think that counted, “did it?”. “Is he your boyfriend,” Larry asked? She shook her head. “Not now, Sir. I think I like older guys.”
Larry explained the plan for her. “We’re not going to fuck you vaginally.”
“It’s alright if you do. I’m on the pill.” She said. Monique looked surprised.
“It’s to make absolutely sure you don’t get pregnant. We’re going to protect that part of you. But we will fuck you. In your arse and your mouth. Ok?”
“I think so. I haven’t had any experience of that, but I guess you know what to do for me.” She continued as if she had to sell herself to us. Nothing could have been less necessary. “I have seen quite a bit online though and chatted with some people and Mum, and I’ve thought a lot about it all. You can feel…comfortable…with me. I really want to try all this stuff out… a lot!” she added, “But only with experienced men, like you.” And then with a sudden recollection of the requirement added, “Sir.”
On Larry’s “start as you mean to go on” management philosophy, Kathryn had to be punished for her unauthorised orgasm, even though she hadn’t known not to cum without permission. It was house rules.
“Do you understand?” Larry asked her after to telling her his ruling.
“Um. Not really. But…” she stopped perhaps remembering the don’t argue rule.
She was told to stand in the middle of the room feet apart holding her ankles and was left there her naked arse, now tantalising prominent beneath the hem of the micro skirt, and her still glistening cunt showing between. Larry talked quietly with us about what we thought we should do to her. “Haven’t you promised that you were going to decide everything in her case?” I said to Larry, hoping to edge any of the others’ sadistic ideas, especially Jim’s, out of the picture. Larry agreed and decided.
Her mother, tits still bound, was told to crawl to the corner and face into it until we’d finished with Kathryn. It surprised me that she didn’t try to object, so she could supervise to make sure Kathryn was okay. Maybe she was glad not to be expected to watch her daughter with us. There might have been a twinge of jealousy countering maternal protectiveness. She’d been our only slave, focus, fun, and desire, until now. Her daughter was a competitor. A nubile and luscious competitor.
For Kathryn’s punishment, Larry suggested we each needed to do something to her, even if it was just symbolic. It would bring her into the whole group from the beginning. Very generous of him, I thought cynically. But before we did anything Larry decided to warm her up taking her over his knee and spanking her bare arse, asking, “do you know what this is for?”
“No Sir,” she said.
He asked again as he whacked. She tried, “because you like it, Sir?”
“Partly right,” he said carrying on spanking. “It’s because you came without asking for permission. And that is also why your mother is going to get punished again today. Your mistakes are also hers from now on, so be careful you don’t add to her troubles.” He punctuated each word of the last sentence with a hard slap.
He stood her up again, she rubbed her eyes. They were wet, but she held her emotion. We got her back into the bent over position holding her ankles and each of us gave her two strikes of the cane on her bare warmed-up cheeks, as we'd agreed amongst ourselves. She took it surprisingly well, only a few times emitting a “yeow!” but holding her position. I was far gentler than I would be on her mother, but I think the others gave their all despite Larry’s request for restraint. Her youthful, rounded arse was a powerful temptation, and it received the blows biting deep into it with cock- stiffening beauty.
Monique was brought back from her corner. “It’s your fault Kathryn came without permission. You must share the punishment.” She said nothing, she must have known she’d be set up. “But first,” Larry said, “As we’d agreed.”
He unlocked her belt and took it off her. It must have been a huge moment for her. Freed at last after weeks in the thing, she rocked her hips side to side and made some small twerking and thrusting motions, sighing and moaning.
We let her enjoy the moment for a while and then put her on the table on her back where Steve and Jim held her legs well apart and bent right back pulling her hips off the table-top, so her anus and cunt were facing straight up. Rob took up the tawse and gave the leather to her anal and slit areas with dedication. She held herself through most of it, only making some noise on the last few strokes.
After all that excruciating treatment we all knew Monique would be at a peak of arousal. Jim and Rob took the opportunity to get into her together, sandwiching her, Jim underneath with his cock in her arse, and Rob on top in her newly available vagina. I was watching Kathryn the virgin, who was eyes wide at Rob’s enormous appendage splitting her mother open, while she moaned in pleasure. After a few minutes thrusting they stopped and got Monique up on her knees. Jim jerked off into her open mouth splattering her face in the process.
After, Rob picked her up. He was strong as and handled her like a rag doll, shoving her on a bench where he tied her feet right back over her shoulders with her arse perched on the edge, forcing her undercarriage that he’d so recently whipped to be pushed right out in the open, and there he again drove his cock into her vagina that was now the perfect height for easy entry to its gapping invitation and at an angle to hit her g-spot with every thrust. He told her to cum on the count of twenty. He been looking forward to that for weeks and she didn’t disappoint. He pulled out as she spasmed and kneeling to the side to protect himself from what he knew was coming fluttered his fingers fast across her wide-awake clit till she squirted a great spray. Ramming his cock back into her for a few seconds of hard thrusts he pulled out again and she squirted again. Working her clit more, and she gave again. This kept going for a few minutes. You could see her cunt and arse contracting in waves, spitting fluid onto the floor every time he pulled away from her.
Eventually, Rob stepped back and unloaded a huge splatter of his own onto her arse and between her legs. Steve and Larry gathered for a go at her. I didn’t. I wasn’t feeling it. Instead, I took some safety cutters and released her bruised breasts from the cable ties that had been keeping them swollen and I gently massaged them for a minute while Steve pounded her.
While Monique was serving the guys, I took the opportunity to sit next to Kathryn for a chat. For some reason, perhaps the realisation of just how young she was, I asked about for her favourite subject at school. She told me it was Classical Studies. She seemed glad to have her attention diverted from what was happening on the other side of the dungeon and talked about an essay she was writing on the Parthenon, the place of the virgins, or the goddess Athena Parthenos. She seemed very well versed in ancient Greek lore and legends and articulate with it. It was interesting listening to her. But the diversion our chat offered was interrupted by darted looks towards her mother. “Will you all do that to me, Sir?” she asked finally leaving the refuge of the great Athenian temple of virgins. “No.” I said, “Not yet anyway. Do you want us to?” She was unsure, after a moment confessing, “I think I really do…eventually.” She got her answer sooner than eventually.
We were coming to the end of the session's scheduled time when Larry told Kathryn he was going to fuck her in the arse. To me this was completely out of order. We had no formal agreement with Kathryn, no time to for her to consider, especially important given her age and ours.
Everything was suddenly changing, had changed, in the two days it took to hook this virgin into our den. “What do I need to do Sir?” she said with instant and innocent willingness despite, or maybe because of what she witnessed happening with her mother. “Just do whatever we tell you. Kneel down. Now.” Steve moved to her head as she waited on all fours, her arse now totally free of the skirt that she pulled up around her waist. He took his cock hitting her face gently with it. “Open” he said. He played the tip against her lips and tongue, while taking one of her hands to his balls. She stroked and explored the area, while he reached under to her breasts manipulating them. After examining the shaft and head of the cock with her tongue, she took it into her mouth.
At the same time at her rear, Larry squeezed lube generously onto her tight anus and fingered it in to her. She jerked a little as he did. Holding his rigid cock to it, and with some difficulty during which he instructed her to squeeze and release her anus to help suck him in, he drove determinedly through her resistance and into her dark passage. He drew back to thrust working into a steady rhythm. After a few seconds she pulled her mouth off Steve’s cock to say, “RED.” Larry held still and asked if he should stop, but she just wanted a moment. “Maybe go slower, Sir if I can ask for that. It’s hurting a bit.” “I’ll stop” he said. “No, Sir, I think I can handle it. Please. I want you to enjoy me…Sir.” So generous was her invitation, he spread some more lube on her anal area around his shaft that was still gripped tight in her young sphincter and began thrusting more slowly not stopping until he’d unloaded inside her baren cavity and claiming the ownership of first occupation.
Getting her up off her knees he kissed her on the forehead. It seemed almost fatherly to me. And so wrong.
Why wrong? It should’ve been fine. She was 18, well past the legal age, willing and desirable as hell, and she came with parental permission of all things. But I didn’t like it. And that concluded a weird and disturbing session.
Over the next couple of days, away from the group, Monique transformed in my mind from an irresistible masochistic sex slave to a mother with a daughter she loved with desperate protection. And I loved that version of her more than the one I’d been enjoying for months. Oh yes, I still felt a huge temptation to use and abuse her exquisite daughter. Kathryn, hot and eager to be trained as a sex slave, but also just a girl, there with her mum as if she’d being taken along to a dancing school try-out. At night I drifted in troubled sleep. I couldn’t shake the twisted visions of Monique licking off her own daughter, nor what we made Kathryn witness done to her mother. I would wake with a start feeling sick at heart and an enormous hard on. Poor Monique.
Next session I went along only to say goodbye. I couldn’t do it anymore. Monique had tears in her eyes as she embraced me for the last time, embraced me for the first time like a woman not just a sex-slave. Did she feel anything of what I had over the last days? If she had, it must’ve been far worse than it was for me. I went to walk out of the dungeon and Kathryn who was completely naked stepped in front of me to say “Goodbye Sir, I would’ve liked you to have had me. But...” She paused looking awkward like the teenager that she was.
“That’s okay. Take care,” I said.
“I’ll be alright, Sir. Do I still call you Sir?”
“Just Mr Fraer will do,” I said as I turned away. I heard her ask Monique in a whisper, “Is he leaving because of me?” In a way I was.
I gave them no reasons for my departure. The guys looked non-plussed, betrayed, and said very little, except Larry who wanted an explanation. I said I’d send him a message with my reasons. I never did. I guessed he was worried about whether I’d keep everything quiet. He was the only one whose partner didn’t know about the group.
About a month later I was out walking one Sunday morning when I saw Steve with his wife coming out of church after mass. I’d only seen his wife a couple of times. She was nice looking in the way of wealthy woman, overly done up, though quite stunning for her fifty years and four kids. He parted from her in the after-church crowd and signalled me over. “Meet me at the pub on Wellington Street later?” Over a drink he gave me an update on the group.
It was all different now. Larry had dumped his long-time girlfriend and personally taken full management of Monique, though she was still used by the group. Monique and Kathryn had moved in with him, and he had had an ownership medallion made for Monique now she was free of the belt and had it hung from one of her labial folds on a short chain and piercing. It was a contentious move, badging her for himself. But Kathryn was becoming well used by the guys and everyone felt it was a fair trade. Kathryn seemed to submit to the treatment she received with no issues and sometimes with real excitement and arousal. She had been put into a permanent chastity belt to develop her tolerance during her training and Monique was given responsibility for her 24/7 maintenance, until it was decided who would own her. I remarked that ownership was a new approach. Steve confirmed it was Larry’s idea on the basis that one of the guys needed to be responsible for Kathryn to eventually remove her from her mother’s supervision. There were only a couple of options for who it could be. The married guys were ruled out, and so it was between Rob and Keith who had come back after finally separating from his wife.
“You should come back," Steve said. Keith was very welcome. And you could own Kathryn. I don’t think Rob’s keen, he loves using her, but doesn’t want the responsibility. I think he’s in love with Monique, poor bastard. “I happen to know Kathryn liked you. She was disappointed you left." He continued to push the point, “She is something, I can tell you. I’d find the offer of having her almost impossible to resist.” He smiled, looked up musing. “But out of the question.” He flashed his wedding ring.
The wives of the group were interesting. Only two remained after Cheryl left and she of course was quite different being our slave. Both Steve and Jim’s wives were distant from the group, but they knew one another and were both aware of their husbands’ extracurricular activities, at least, as far as it would be appropriate for them to be aware. They let their men have their little play group with “the BDSM slut”, which was apparently how Jim’s wife referred to her. Shrinking from that sort of kink themselves they were content to let their husbands’ more strenuous needs and urges be met elsewhere so long as nothing happened that would embarrass them socially and their men were safe and clean when they came to the marriage bed. Jim said once that his wife thought of it all as a kind of sport her husband played with other guys who all shared a beer together afterwards in male camaraderie. For both wives the group aspect was essential to their tolerance. They didn’t want any one-on-one liaisons with whatever “her” their men lured into sexual slavery, and definitely no surprise babies popping out creating obligations for financial support. The wives were entitled to total ownership of their husbands reproductively, socially and financially, if not sexually.
As I left Steve, my mind was briefly caught up with the notion of owning Kathryn. I’d never contemplated having a slave as my own. It had always been the collective that owned the slaves - Monique, Cheryl, Simone before her, and Heather before that, our first more than five years ago now.
There was no doubt that the idea of owning Kathryn myself was an alluring fantasy with all her youth, freshness, innocence, although that was surely thoroughly sullied by now. Of course, I didn’t know anything of her really. My only encounter had been brief and fraught.
No. Owning Kathryn would be like having a daughter with all the responsibilities, diminishing the sexual benefits. Like Rob, it was a not for me. And again, apparently like Rob, it was the mother not the daughter that I had grown to want, to need, and to love. It was only when I left the regular encounters with her that I realised how much I loved her, but I was so mortified by what we had demanded from her with her own daughter that I couldn’t go back there and face it or her.
Monique so perfect. If only it was you that I could have owned. But that had been Larry’s game from the beginning.
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
KEEPING MY SLAVE REQUIRES EXTRAS: PART THREE
|
Postad:17 februari 2024 8:47 pm
Senast Uppdaterad:11 mars 2024 9:21 pm 4138 besök
|
CONTINUED FROM PART TWO (see below on my blog)
IN THIS FINAL PART NICKY HAS AN UNUSUAL HOLIDAY EXPERIENCE
Twenty-three-year-old Nicky had agreed to be my live-in sex slave for the six weeks leading up to the start of her first job in her dream career of architecture, which she was determined would take up all her time and energy once she started it.
She was a masochistic submissive who was up for anything nasty and particularly keen on gang bangs. Days after she arrived, I was smitten and wanted her to stay much longer than six weeks. I soon realised that if that was going to happen her inexhaustible sexual stamina would need a bit more than I could offer her alone. Even though not really my thing, I arranged a series of sessions with multiple partners and different Doms to join me in doing her over. It seemed to be working. The sessions excited her, and weirdly enough I felt they were bringing us closer together.
It was a stroke of good fortune when just a week and a half before the six weeks were up the apartment she’d arranged to move into fell through. She was downcast. To cheer her up, I took her on a weeklong holiday. My Machiavellian motivation, however, was to use up the time she might have had to arrange other accommodation, so she'd be forced to extend her stay with me.
I booked flights for a week in Perth, Australia. I chose Perth because I hoped to take Nicky to a theatre there that I’d been told did live sex and BDSM shows with volunteer women. I’d heard all about it from a woman I'd chatted with who claimed she’d been there and volunteered several times. She said it could be extremely intense. One night she was being used for about 5 hours. An exaggeration, I thought. As was her story of one girl she saw there who had her tits done over so harshly that they were permanently ruined. She told me that her own tits had even been cut when she’d volunteered. I asked about scars. Apparently, just faint white lines, hardly visible, on the underneath where they didn’t show. She was still aroused by remembering the fear generated when tied up and helpless in front of a crowd with three big hunks, their hard cocks ready to pound her, took to her tits with sharp blades. It turned her on beyond anything she’d felt before or since.
As soon as we arrived, I searched around and eventually found the place, with some guidance from the woman who first told me about it. It didn’t advertise its volunteer shows so you had to be in the know. Just bring her along, they said when I asked how it worked. I did.
At the entry desk we were greeted by a severe looking goth woman. I told her Nicky wanted to volunteer. That’s the backroom she said and sent us to talk to a guy called Geoff inside. Geoff said, you're in luck. We've got a spot for you out the back right now with five guys available to Dom. Last girl pulled out. Does your girl know what she’s in for? I hadn’t explained much to Nicky, but I looked to her for an answer and she nodded with, yes, I think so. Giving her the once over, Geoff said, Great! You're on.
What do you want done to her? he said to me. The question wasn’t as open as it seemed. They won’t necessarily do any of it, but it might give them some ideas, he said. I was starting to get nervous. I don’t want anything that’ll leave permanent marks. They don’t normally do that sort of stuff anyway, he reassured me. But once they get going it’ll be hard to intervene. Not so reassuring, I thought. He called a large bald guy with heavily tattooed muscular arms, and said to him, everything's on with this girl for the backroom, but nothing permanent, the usual. Okay? The message seemed to be received. Then he asked him, is it you regular guys that’ll be doing her? One new, but the other three are all good, the guy said and reeled off some names. Well keep it all under control, no repeat of the other night. RIght. What happened the other night? I asked. Nothing to worry about, Geoff said. Internal matter. I began to worry. The bald guy turned to me and asked. Are you happy for a video? Not really. What happens to it? Nothing if you don’t want it to, Geoff said. We only use it to project on a screen so the punters can see everything. I looked at Nicky. She shrugged. Alright, I said, but you can’t use it for anything else. Just live camera no recording. Geoff gave a faint unconvincing nod. Oh yeah, he said putting his hand on my shoulder perhaps to distract from the video issue, your girl gets in free but its $60 for you in the backroom and another $100 if you want to join in the action. I paid $60. Nicky flashed me a disapproving or perhaps disappointed look.
We walked past the doors to a large bar with pole dancing runways and a lot of people drinking and staring up at a couple of performers and went down a short stairway to a room with a low stage. There were about fifteen people, nearly all men, sitting at cabaret tables. A skinny waitress in a skimpy bondage outfit was taking orders. Geoff grabbed a microphone. Tonight we have, “Vicky” volunteering for a go with the guys. Give her a big welcome. “Nicky, I corrected but it made no difference. Sporadic clapping. They quickly had Nicky naked and were tying her hands above her head with feet anchored to rings in the stage floor. The guys presumably who would Dom her were with her on the stage. One of them had a mic and asked her questions: so that everyone knows a little bit about you, babe, how old are you? Twenty-three, where are you from, you’re not an Aussie with that beautiful accent? No, I’m from Sussex, England. Nicky’s voice seemed a little tremulous. Why are you here? My friend brought me. So, he or she is in the audience? Yes. Is he your boyfriend, husband, whatever? He’s my…uh actually he is my... owner, Nicky laughed. Ah ha so that makes you his sex-slave, right? She nodded. Speak up! One of them gave her a light swat on the arse. Yes, that’s right. Okay do you think he is going to enjoy this as much as you? Depends on what you do to me, I suppose, she said with a hint of bravado. I noticed her leg trembling. Is her owner out there? the mic guy inquired into the gloom. Stand up. I half stood but slumped back down.
There were five guys attending to Nicky, including the one with the microphone, all in their twenties and thirties I’d have guessed. They went to the back of the stage in a huddle like some sports team leaving Nicky standing naked, her arms above her head and feet secured to the floor well apart, a light shining on her. There was some whooping from a drunk table of three young guys who looked not much more than high school age with a girl in tow, surely they had some sort of age restriction. Most were of the audience were men just staring with drooling eyes. I half wanted to stop it then and there., but Nicky looked amazing and ready for it somehow.
A guy came forward from the group huddle at the back of the stage. He was wearing, army pants and boots, but no shirt showing off a taught torso. He ball-gagged Nicky with practised ease and took a multi-tailed flogger out of his belt, walking around her he whacked her all over with it, finally focussing on her breasts for a good few minutes. The marks from our previous sessions and activities had faded out so her body was a beautiful clean canvas. But when he dropped the flogger, faint welts were visible all over her, and her breasts were bright red.
One of the five guys had a video camera and had moved to stand just in front of the stage While she was getting whipped, the live video he was filming began to show up on a big TV screen that was hanging at the side of the stage, so we could see whatever he zeroed in on in enormous close up. The guy who'd whipped her now took out his cock, erect and large. With some words of encouragement from an audience member he rubbed it between her legs from behind, sliding forwards and backwards through the slit of her vulva so we could see the purple head slip between her wet lips. Reaching around her, he grabbed a breast with a claw like grip to hold her steady and with his other hand and some humping and twisting managed to work his cock, lubricated with her sex juices as it was, into to her arse. It was a hard angle for him to do it from with her standing upright. The video guy crouched on the stage to give us his best view of it happening. Nicky was swivelling her hips to take the large cock deeper.
Two more guys came forward one with a knife glinting in the lights. It was just as the woman had told me. I can still recall the horror on Nicky’s face as she saw them. WIth the knife they poked and pricked her, but they didn’t seem to draw blood. The look in her eyes became pure terror as they flicked her nipples with the blade edge, threatening to cut them off, but nothing like that happened. Next one grabbed her labia and managed to squeeze her clit up enough for it to peep out of its hood. It stood bizarrely large on the screen. Holding it in the vice of his thumb and finger he stood to the side so the other guy could touch the blade to it over and over and then rest the sharp edge right on it glistened in the magnified screen view. The guy behind her was still bucking into her arse, and she had to tense all her muscles against the jolting, desperate to stay perfectly still while the sharp blade edge rested on her pleasure bud. She must have been, and I sure was, petrified at the prospect of female genital mutilation occurring. Wait! I yelled out. Go on! another voice countered, cut the bitch. Knowing her as well as I did, I could tell that her terror had turned to arousal. The guy holding her clit bent forward and got his tongue working on it while the other guy took his knife away and yanked a breast up by its nipple as far as he could to slide the sharp edge of the blade across the exposed underside. As he made his cut it seemed she came, bucking slightly and clenching her belly. The guy at her clit tried to keep it in his pinching fingers but it slipped out with her movements. The big guy behind her had frozen still up her arse, no doubt feeling her orgasm on his cock. She kept cumming for about a minute. When she appeared to have finished, the big guy pulled out of her saying, good girl Sussex. But we’ve just got started on you.
They took her down, and she stood free on the stage covering herself with her arms, a trickle of blood from under one breast. Someone in the audience started clapping and there was a brief round of applause. The mic guy picked it up: You’re lucky Sussex. They like you. Wait, we’ve only cut one tit, interrupted the knife guy. The guy who’d been up her arse grabbed her arm and twisted it up her back wrapping his other arm around her throat to hold her still and helpless while her other breast was cut to match. Nicky’s eyes were closed as she surrendered to them. I’d seen that shift in her many times. They owned her. While the guy behind held her nipples up another flogged the underside of her breasts. A bit more blood flowed from the cuts during the flogging, but not much.
We're going to need your mouth now Sussex, one of them said. They took her gag off. Do you want to stay and find out what else we’ve got for you? She nodded. Someone whooped. What about your owner? What does he want? I raised a thumbs up. I was relieved she felt okay so far. The guy with the mic said. I’m glad because, sorry guys, but it wouldn’t have made any difference if either of you had said no. Audience laughter.
For her next round they got her on a narrow wooden bench like a sawhorse, lying face down on the long top of it with her legs and arms hanging down by its legs. Her breasts dangled to on each side and her head and arse each extended a little beyond the board she lay on. A guy grabbed some leather straps and a drill-driver from the back of the stage and fixed the straps over her wrists, ankles and neck screwing the leather firmly to the sawhorse like frame. She was totally immobilised. It was all very quick, well-rehearsed.
The videographer was on the stage walking around her to give us a screen view from all sides. He got to her rear which was splayed wide to show her sex like an unopened lily, the slit just parting at her entrance, an entrance yet to be violated by them. The video shot lingered there as one of the guys pulled out his cock, stuck it in her mouth, pushing it to her throat where he kept it holding her head forcefully in position. After about a minute she was struggling for breath, writhing with the little freedom she had to move. He pulled out for her to gasp and cough but went straight back in again. One of the others, a guy with his head shaved who took her when we arrived got his cock into her vagina, ramming her hard.
They set up a choreographed routine involving one cock down her throat, one in her vagina and another guy whacking her arse with a cane. The vagina guy would pull out of her and stand aside to allow several strokes of the cane before re-entering, then after some thrusting pull out again and so on. It was done in time with the cock going into and out of her throat, so her vagina and throat were filled at the same time and were left free while the caning was done. After about six rounds of this they let the guy in her vagina have her. He got into a steady hard rhythm banging her with each thrust until she was starting to make the uh uh sounds she often did when building to orgasm. But before that could happen, the caning guy came back with a staple gun and stapled each of her nipples to the wood of the frame. There was a close-up video of the nipple for the first stapling and one of her body jolting as the second went in on the other side. The fucking kept going throughout. She was whimpering in pain or pleasure, probably both. The sense of her building to the edge of release was palpable, filling the room. Some guy at a table on his own was masturbating. Disgusting but understandable. We all, or maybe it was just me, were tense with her as we silently urged her orgasm on. Again, cock was shoved down her throat and held there. This time when it was pulled out, she gave a shuddering moan. As she continued cumming the two guys whacked themselves off surprisingly fast spattering her fore and aft as her cumming died away. The small audience’s testosterone-fuelled sadistic affirmation drowned out any other sound that might have come from Nicky.
They undid the straps leaving just the staples in her nipples binding her to the frame. Where’s her owner? the mic guy called. What should we do with her now? Can she take any more? I felt like I should let her off. Only if she says yes, I yelled back. He held the mic close to Nicky’s face, decorated with cum splatter as we could see in detail on the screen. Your owner wants you to say yes Sussex. Surprising me, she said, Yes, though with a slightly ragged voice. And then again. Yes, Sir. That’s great, Sussex. I think we want to see you whack yourself off while your tits are stuck on there with those staples, he said. You’ve got a minute to cum, or we are going to do something really nasty to you, and after what we’ve already done, you might not want to imagine just how nasty, nasty could be. Get started. Now! He told her looking at his watch. She hunched her hips up gingerly and slid her hand down to her clit, careful of her breasts tacked at the nipples. Steady there Sussex, the guy said into the mic. Or is giving those nips a little tug going to help you get there. The videographer trained his close-up on her fingers rapidly working her clit. In about ten seconds we could see the whole area of her cunt and anus pulsing strongly as she gave it all up.
They kept going on her with inexhaustible sadistic ingenuity hardly pausing from one punishing routine to the next. Audience members came and went. Most stayed but there were only ever a couple of dozen. At one point, a very wealthy looking Asian man from the audience asked me how much I wanted for her. I asked for how long did her want her thinking an hour or the night or something like that. But he wanted to own her and take her from me. I declined. He was very disappointed and pressed me to reconsider mentioning a huge sum, eventually shaking his head and leaving the club.
When they'd finally finished with her on the stage it was almost two hours after we had arrived at the club. They took her to a side room to rest and have a drink. I went to join her. The guy at the door didn’t recognise me and wouldn’t let me in but she saw me and told them she wanted to see me. She was still naked with a blanket draped around her shoulders. She smiled and stood to hug me tight. As she broke away, she put a hand over her left breast and winced in pain. Are you okay? Yes. Just that nipple. The staple tore a little. How was it all, you seemed to get through it really well? They want me to go back on the stage for another go. I’m thinking I could if you want me to. No, I said. Come on. We’re going. She hurried into the clothes they’d returned, and we left through a door into a side alley.
In the Uber I put her collar and leash on her - reasserting my ownership – holding it tightly. Back in our hotel room I made her get on her knees on the edge of the bed, pushed up her skirt, pulled aside her g string and holding her tightly by the leash so it was almost choking her fucked her rapidly. Lying on the bed wrapped in my arms she sighed. That was quite the holiday outing Sir, she said. And you were quite something indeed, I replied. You know someone tried to buy you off me for, I told her the amount. Fucken hell. You didn’t, oh please no, did you? She looked terrified and accusing at the same time. No of course not! I don’t want to lose you or send you into God knows what sort of situation. Thank you...fuck, that’s so dangerous. She was quiet for a while. Dreamily she started talking: You know what I was imagining while I was being done in front of that crowd of fuckers, SIr? I was imagining that each one of the guys abusing me was you. That’s how I got through it. Didn’t you enjoy it then? I asked. Well... I came a lot, A LOT, and it was all very hot action, and being watched like that I felt like the ultimate fuck. But the only real enjoyment I had was knowing that you were there and would take me home afterwards and I’d be with you. She snuggled into me, and was drifting off to sleep when she raised her head and said, you know this isn't for ever, don't you?
That was five years ago. Nicky and I stayed together for a full year and off and on for a while after that. I still see her around and have a chat from time to time. She has left the big firm she started with and has set up her own small architecture studio and practice with a young colleague. As for the video that day. It did turn up on the web. But fortunately, the way they took it was mainly closeups of the parts of her body that were being magnified onto the big screen. No shot had Nicky’s face in a way that could be recognisable. It was a huge relief for both of us. Looking back I can't believe how careless and thoughtless I'd been to put her professional reputation at risk like that.
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
FIRST TIME SUB GIVES MILKING OPPORTUNITY
|
Postad:8 februari 2024 7:11 pm
Senast Uppdaterad:17 april 2024 2:24 am 3324 besök
|
I INTRODUCE A NEW SUB TO HER FIRST BDSM EXPERIENCE. SHE HAS TWO SPECIAL QUALITIES THAT I ENJOY TAKING ADVANTAGE OF
She was one of my earlier submissives, and first time for her. She'd decided she was ready for what she called the BDSM experience. A mother, 38 years old, she discovered BDSM when researching for her PhD on the wellbeing of female prostitutes.
For two years she toyed with the idea of a BDSM experience for herself and chatted with a lot of men and women on ALT.com, engaging with several Doms her wanted to take have her, narrowing the list down till eventually I was chosen to initiate her. But even then, she insisted that we email extensively for what turned out to be four more weeks of getting to know one another without actually meeting.
She wanted a Dom who would train her with frequent and regular sessions. The one problem she had was that she was attached to a vanilla partner who she couldn't bring herself to leave, even though her preference was to be monogamous with her Dom in a full 24/7 D/s relationship. I didn't want anything like that, and she realised she was on the back foot with her own domestic situation, so we agreed to just six sessions to see how we went.
In our emailing days, I'd asked her a lot of questions, often just with the aim of making her squirm and keeping sex on her mind. In one message, I wanted to know how easy it would be to induce her orgasm. She replied, "very. It wouldn’t be hard to make me cum, Sir" I asked what the best way to do that would be? She replied that if her mind was in the right space, which it nearly always was, there were a few physical manipulations that would make her orgasm quickly, a lot, and very intensely. "Should I tell you these or would you like to find out for yourself, Sir?" I left it there but several days later she volunteered me great detail on various ways to get her off and the different types of orgasm each produced.
To up the ante I asked her to send me a masturbation diary every couple of days, setting out the number of times and orgasms, the situations, the masturbatory methods, what she was thinking of as she led up to each climax, and the quality of the orgasms. She meticulously complied revealing a sexual hunger needing relief several times a day with multiple orgasms each session. Despite her voracious sexual appetite, she hadn’t had sex with anyone, including the partner she lived with who was also the father of one of her three children, in over a year.
As we exchanged messages, I found her to be articulate, smart and determined, as the PhD would suggest. She drew up a long and detailed "sub-willingness" list, betraying a rich fantasy life and adventurous imagination with more than 100 kinks rating them out of 5 for how much of a turn on they were and how much she wanted to experience them. To that list she added dozens more romantic fantasy scenarios.
At one point she wrote how she felt about me: "to thoroughly answer your questions I have read and re-read your emails, and each time I have got to the sentence that reads, 'I would want you to feel utterly female, and would highlight, play on, and take liberties with our physical differences as male and female.' It has taken my breath away, Sir. Your words have hit the right spot and leave me wanting more."
She worked in employment law and loved the idea of a D/s contract. I drew up a long one full of legalese that placed her firmly in a subjugated and humiliating position. She was delighted with it, made a couple of minor suggestions that emphasised further her degraded status, signed it and sent it back. In her professional work she often dealt with contracts and told me that she'd be wriggling in her seat thinking of our D/s one and having to go to the bathroom to relieve the sexual tension so she could clear her head for the one she was meant to be thinking about. Another time she emailed me saying she was in a meeting with a client, and she had a silent vibe taped over her clit, her geisha balls in, and no panties, and was squeezing her thighs together desperate for a break so she could "you know what." "I’m a very bad girl," she concluded.
After weeks of emailing, she suddenly became frantic to get to business time. Late one night she wrote that she had been unable to stop thinking about me and her thoughts had elicited profound arousal which led to relieving herself with no less than 11 orgasms and was still needing more. She said that she'd grown extremely wet again just from writing the email. "I need servicing so badly Sir" Next morning she wrote again, this time complaining, unfairly I should add, that I was putting her through hoops and deliberately delaying. She was certain that she was more than ready for BDSM action, desperate to start, and needed to know if I was going to do it with her as agreed, or should she pursue her other options? That day we finally managed to settle on a meeting date, time and place, which, ironically, she ended up having to rain-check at the last minute because of parental duties.
During our correspondence I’d discovered a lot about her. She was quirky and interesting in all sorts of ways, but the quirkiest thing about her I learnt only a week before our first meeting. She had a five-month-old baby that she was breast-feeding. An unusual time to enter the BDSM scene. When she told me, I had doubts about continuing with her. But we’d spent so long leading up to it, and she was so keen it seemed a waste not to at least try out together, even though my male view of her breasts as sexual playthings that were purely for my entertainment was confounded by the existence of this little person who truly owned them and was using them for more fundamental needs.
Our first session, when we eventually got there was held in a motel located a good hour and a half drive from each of our homes, discretion being essential for us both. I arrived early to set up and waited, I must confess nervously. Would she turn up? I was relieved but also surprised when I'd opened the door to her knock, which was 30 mins late. The surprise? I’d seen several photos of her but standing at the door in physical reality she seemed much bigger than those. The pregnancy weight must have been reluctant to leave her. But she was also wearing a huge coat. It was a freezing day.
I invited her in and after the greetings due our first in-person meeting I made her strip. She got down to a camisole and panties and then went all shy. Without her clothes she more closely resembled what I'd imagined. She was a bit chunkier but still sexy. "I’ll lose weight." she said. "I’m training for a half marathon." "You look very good to me as you are," I reassured her. I wanted her to feel exposed and uncomfortable naked, for sure, though not because of her weight problems, but because of the humiliation of it. I would remain fully clothed, while she was to have no covering at all. "This will probably get in the way," I said, pulling off her top. She turned to the wall and took off her panties, which gave me a nice view of her arse, pert despite or because of the extra weight. Slowly she turned back to me now completely naked with arms folded over her breasts.
I told her to stand in front of me, feet well apart and hands on her head and reiterated some of the rules. Never cover your tits, don’t ever have your legs closed or crossed, never speak unless spoken to, don’t look at me unless I tell you to, answer questions immediately, briefly and absolutely honestly, never touch yourself without direction, never cum without asking for permission, and obey everything without question or complaint. She agreed. We'd covered it in emails before and in the contract.
I took up her breasts cupping them in my hands and lifting them. They were heavy. She said, they’re too big, I know, Sir. I’ll get a reduction for you when I’ve finished breast feeding. For me? I thought. That’s a major commitment. I picked them up again this time by their hard nipples. I liked them just how they were and told her so. When I asked if there was anything I shouldn't to them because she was breast-feeding, she told me I could do anything I liked to them. She was trusting me with that permission, which was good, and she seemed relieved that I liked her just as she was.
We moved on to learning some sub-positions. I got her to kneel upright resting her arse on her heels, hands on her head. and with her knees spread well apart. I reached a hand under her to check the spread explaining that I should be able to easily get my hand on and in her cunt. Grazing her labia, I felt a welcome slickness. She was very wet. I slid my fingers between the lips and back several times before dallying at her clit, playing with it. Her eyes closed, she smiled, sighed and slowly lent forward to rest her head on my shoulder while I continued to gently work her little bean. In just a matter of seconds she shuddered and went very rigid all over for a moment. Sorry Sir I forgot to ask permission, she said with a giggle.
Her sub-willingness list had rated caning as 5 out of 5 meaning a total turn on and she’d also given it a NO to indicate she’d never experienced it. Perfect. I made her kneel with her face and breasts on the ground, arms forward, knees well spread, arse high and cunt pushed out as far as possible. I didn’t tell her what would happen to her, just that it was a punishment for cumming without permission. She said, "Sorry Sir I won’t do it again...please." I ignored her and got the cane, swishing it a couple of times near her, she turned her head slightly to see but I was behind her. I then touched her arse cheeks with it and asked her to repeat what the punishment was for. She did and I hit her straight away, but fairly gently. I wanted to start her off easily. After a few tame strokes she was rocking back to receive the next. "I'm going to leave marks on you now. Ok?" I said. She lived with the father of the baby so I thought I should check. "Yes, absolutely Sir, if that’s what I deserve. I think," She gave a nervous giggle. Warning that it would hurt I gave her ten strong cuts, leaving beautifully parallel stripes. She surprised me by not making a sound as the cane bit hard into her smooth rounded cheeks. When I said it was over, she got up on her hands and knees and reached back to feel her battered arse. I told her to get back into position and not move until I said so. "But you said that was all, Sir." She sounded a bit desperate. I reminded her about no arguments or complaints, and she did as she was told.
Back in the position, her cunt was beautifully presented, glistening wet in spite of, or maybe because of, the canning. I slid two fingers into her ramming quite hard and getting some vocal responses out of her. I moved to her anus and worked in my fingers that were slippery with her cunt juices. With my thumb on her clit I started play her arse and clit together. This time she remembered to ask permission. But I didn’t give it. I kept going. She asked again. Don’t, I told her. She said she couldn’t hold it any longer. I kept going warning her not to cum or it would be another hard canning. Sir Please I can't... I stopped and took my hand away. I left her on the edge, got her up on her feet and pushed her down to her knees in front of me. Pulling my cock out and grabbing her hair I shoved myself into her mouth and pulled her head up onto it all the way. I nearly came in her mouth. She had a tongue stud which she flicked over me as I thrust. She seemed well practiced. Just in time, I wanted to save myself, I pulled away and told her to stand facing the wall, while I got some stuff to use on her. Armed with thick hemp string, I turned her around and tied her tits as tightly as I could till they were taught and swollen. They looked amazing. I was going to flog them, but a dribble of milk started from one nipple. Fascinated, I changed tack and made her get on the table kneeling on all fours.
With a glass bowl from the motel kitchen underneath her I milked her. She mewled a little as I tugged at her nipples, getting a messy stream spattering the bowl. "What’s this for?" she said after the first tugs. "Do you want me to stop?" I said. "No Sir. Keep going... If you want to, I mean Sir. I like it…" "Remember you don’t actually get a say," I said. She shut up and after a few minutes of milking, which I got better at as I went, there was a good cupful. I poured it into a mug and showed her. She looked horrified but said, "are going to fuck me now., Sir? You’ve got me so wound up and ready for you with that" she said nodding at the milk. I got up on the table behind her and plunged straight into her reaching down to hold her swollen tits. After a few hard thrusts, she came, and I came with her. But she didn’t ask for permission again. Trainees can be such fun.
With her lying on the floor on her back spread eagled I stood over her with a multi-tail leather flogger. "This is to remind you to ask permission, and maybe calm that hungry cunt down." I whacked her just once dead centre. Her reaction was shock at the force of it as much as the pain. I whipped her cunt only five times. I could tell she was struggling in desperation trying to hold her back her cries against the pain. But she was new. I wanted her to come back next time, so I stopped and sat her on my knee. I was still clothed and she was naked of course. She snuggled in like it was a kind of daddy scene. Pushing her legs apart I stroked her whipped cunt and with my other hand played with one of her tits, still in their bonds. "That's nice, Sir," she said as she leaned back on me pushing her cunt forward into my hand as I fingered it. I gave her permission to cum at will. She grabbed my free hand and pressed it to her tit. I took hold of the erect nipple and pinched it hard not letting go with the other at her cunt. She seemed to blend into one long edging at the cusp of orgasm from where she had several climaxes each getting seeming a bit less intense.
We did lots more that first session and she proved her claim that it would be easy to get her to cum. She did more than 20 times in all..enough to lose count. And there were plenty of opportunities to beat her beautiful arse different ways in punishment for permission-errors and other infractions, or just because I wanted to. She was stoic during most of the whippings and spankings, though sometimes I noticed water in her eyes at the end. But she always confirmed she was alright and wanted to continue when I checked.
I offered her a shower at the end. I watched through the glass - no privacy for subs. When she turned, so the water first hit her cute arse, she let out a YEOW, as the warm jets stung the area that had been canned, paddled and spanked during the previous three hours. I don't know how I'm going to sit in the car for two hours driving home, she confessed with a laugh. As she was drying off, I grabbed her, pushed her against the wall, knelt down in front of her and rammed my fingers up hard and rapidly into her G spot. After a few seconds she squirted on my hand, I kept going harder and faster. The second squirt was a real sharp spat all over my arm and face. Sorry Sir, it's always harder when I cum at the same time, she said. "Don't apologise! It was obedient," I told her.
To finish the session, before I allowed her to get dressed, I made her make me a cup of tea whitened and sweetened with her own milk. She asked if she could take the rest of her milk home. She had a bottle for it in her bag. Perhaps she had expected this aspect of her first BDSM experience and came prepared for her milky breasts to perform on cue.
She was excited to confirm the next session with me before finally saying goodbye. We met three more times, not quite making our agreed six. She was keen and so was I, but baby came first in the end.
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
THE TOW BAR GAME
|
Postad:26 januari 2024 2:52 am
Senast Uppdaterad:18 april 2024 2:31 am 3454 besök
|
IN WHICH THREE GUYS AND I TAKE OUR SUBS ON A WEEK LONG TRIP IN AN RV SPECIFICALLY SO THE GIRLS CAN LOOK AFTER US; THE GIRLS GET SHARED FREELY AMONGST THE GUYS; BUT EVERYONE, GUYS AND GIRLS, ENDS UP OBSESSED WITH A RIDICULOUS GAME IN WHICH THE AIM IS TO WHIP THE GIRLS' BEAUTIFUL ARSES AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE ACCORDING TO STRICT RULES THAT WE ALL AGREE TOGETHER.
The guys and I decided to go for a week-long road trip and take the girls along with us. It was meant to be a guy's holiday. The girls were just to look after us, cooking, cleaning and tidying, and serving sexually. Their role for the week was deliberately defined as old fashioned feminine service in all things - just for the fun of it...though the philosophy of the group tended in that direction.
We rented Winnebago for the week and set out. To establish the mood and ensure the girls understood their place they weren't allowed clothes, ever, only their sub collars, cuffs and ankle cuffs which were to be worn all the time, and shoes if they needed to go outside, which it turned out they did need to quite often, but not far, just to the back of the RV.
The group was made up of four couples, but we, the guys that is, had agreed that the rule for the trip was that any of the girls could be used by any of us for anything we liked, provided that they were shared around fairly and there were no side relationships or favourite pairings - even with our own subs. Everyone was to be anyone's during the trip. Fair sharing. Some amongst the group hadn't seen each other for quite a while so early on there was a lot of exploration and physical re-acquaintance.
However, once we got going with the fair-sharing rule we came up with another that became the main entertainment and focus for the rest of the trip. If any of the girls misbehaved, failed at her chores, or performed unsatisfactorily, she’d be punished. This would be done by taking her outside to the back of the Winnebago the next time we stopped, attaching her collar to the tow bar which forced her into a bent position where her bare arse was beautifully presented for whipping and spanking. Each of the guys would then give her a set number of blows decided by whomever she’d disappointed.
To give it an edge of fairness, the girl could state her preference for what was to be used on her - cane, paddle, flogger, whip, belt, sneaker, hand etc. Though the preference need not be accepted. When we'd finished on her arse, the one who’d ordered the punishment inspected the damage to decide if it was sufficient. If not, she'd get another round.
The day after we decided on the rule, and all the girls had had a turn at the tow bar, they, the girls, suggested that as well as the guys giving their view on whether the punishment was enough, the three girls who weren't being punished could also give theirs. If they thought she should get more, they could have a go at her arse as well, and they also proposed that once everyone was satisfied with the state of her nether cheeks, the guy who ordered her whipping should have to fuck her before releasing her from the tow bar.
Whenever we stopped to punish a girl, we chose a secluded spot so our activities at the tow bar wouldn't be seen - or so we thought. One time we spotted a surreptitious onlooker. As the girls were all quite happy with dogging, they didn't mind standing around naked with an audience, as long as it wasn't anyone they knew, and we were far from home. However, I went to talk to with our covert audience member to try to explain that it was all okay. Thinking quickly, I told him that we were setting up for a scene in a movie we were filming. He was quite impressed and stayed for much longer than I intended. While he hung around, I was pretending to film with my phone. Just blocking the action for the full set up tomorrow, I told him. Eventually he left wishing us well for the movie and commenting wryly that the girl who was acting the part of getting beaten was admirably committed to giving an authentic performance.
The chance of more curious onlookers prompted me to suggest that the girl should be handcuffed during her whipping and fucking. It would look hotter for the voyeurs. If we were giving a show why not make it a great one? And for the sake of the girl's privacy on any video that was secretly taken we should blindfold her. So, we did that, but there were no more onlookers, at least as far as we could tell. The other guys were terrified of people getting the wrong idea and calling the police, and they got careful careful choosing our spot, often driving around for an hour or more looking for cover and seclusion.
The handcuffing I’d introduced did lead to a refinement of the girl’s punishment. We would leave her handcuffed for the next two hours after release from the tow bar and still expect her to fulfil all her duties and any of our commands and demands. After the first try of this we accepted that, while the results were hilarious, her hands should be cuffed in front when doing her chores etc., not at her back. We weren't unreasonable!
It was the girls again who suggested another excellent addition to the ritual. As soon as the one being punished was released from the tow bar, she should have to give all four guys a blow job for a timed two minutes one each cock and if she didn't get at least one of us to cum she'd be punished again. But, if she got two or more to cum, she'd be immune from punishment for the next day. It was a great incentive, but the immunity was never achieved. No matter how well she sucked, licked, mouthed and gagged we would deliberately hold back our jizz on the poor girl, that is if we still had any to give after other activities in the RV that day. This rule could have led to never ending cycles of sucking, failing and more punishment. But the way it worked out in reality was that one of us would feel the girl had had enough and compassionately unload in her mouth, if he could, or if not, the whole thing would end hilariously with everyone laughing too much to continue.
Once the punishment rule got going we guys couldn't help our sadistic little minds and ramped up the demands on the girls to maddeningly impossible levels, ranging from petty things such as each girl having to keep her nipples erect or her cunt wet all the time ready for use, to more strenuous demands like a girl having to cum on command or not cum under masturbatory duress with the Hitachi wand. We ramped up routines so all the girls had to consistently comply with some high protocol requirements, or meet unreasonably detailed cleaning standards around the RV. We trawled our collective imaginations to make up these stipulations and other more ridiculous ones, all with the AIM of sending a girl out to the tow bar. I was amused to find that after the first couple of rounds of punishment all I had to do to a girl was say "nipples” and hers instantly stiffened.
The tow bar game, as I came to think of it, really made the trip. Everyone, guys and girls, seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, if not in the girls' case when actually getting punished - although I suspect a couple of them loved that - and we guys made sure that there was a fair distribution, with no girl being unequally targeted or missing out.
By the end of the trip each girl went home with a reddened, bruised and well-marked up arse, a treasured memento of a great week that would be brought to mind every time she sat down, while the guys ended the seven-day trip with equally happy memories having enjoyed each of the girls many times and several ways, as well as having numerous opportunities to legitimately whip their gorgeous arses. And they were indeed all absolutely gorgeously spank-worthy arses, which, thinking back was probably the inspiration for the ridiculous tow bar game.
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
TITS OUT FUN, BUT NOT FOR AMY
|
Postad:25 januari 2024 3:39 pm
Senast Uppdaterad:25 mars 2024 7:41 pm 3897 besök
|
TITS OUT FUN, BUT NOT FOR AMY
AS AN INEXPERIENCED DOM I WITNESS A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG SLAVE'S HUMILIATION BY HER OLDER MASTERS.
I’d seen Amy before and quite a lot of her. Not her face though. She was on display at Sean’s birthday barbecue. I didn’t really know Sean, he invited me because Paul had suggested I might be interested in joining the group. I didn't really know what the group was about, but apparently, Amy he’d been Sean's collared slave for a couple or three years, since she was 18 - or even younger some said. Sean was 42. This night he had her tied to a pole, naked except for a bag over her head and a thong. He said not to worry about her. She couldn’t hear or see anything. Under the bag she was gagged, blindfolded and with noise cancelling earmuffs. Sean was proud of her, that was obvious - her body, particularly her tits. They were amazing. Perfectly shaped and positioned. Her nipples were erect, the areolae dimpled, and her moisture was seeping up the front of her white thong. It seemed she enjoyed this objectifying treatment, or at least was turned on by it. We weren’t to touch her. But there was a lot of raucous and degrading commentary about her and what the guys would like to do to her. We assumed she was unaware of it all, but later we found out that Sean had been kidding about the noise cancelling headphones and she must have heard everything.
I wished I could have seen her face that night. Over the next few days and weeks, I spent a lot of random thought imagining what she’d look like. So, as you can imagine, I was keen when two months later Paul, now her master after Sean had left the country, invited me on a camping weekend with him and Amy. There were to be six of us in all. Two other girls, me and another guy. The idea was to hangout, do some fishing, swimming and trekking.
I was introduced to Amy and found her face quite different from what I imagined. I’d thought she’d be blonde from the light skin tone I’d seen at Sean’s barbecue. But she had dark hair, full lips, a perfect narrow nose, green eyes, strong dark eyebrows, and an intoxicating smile. She was fully clothed this time of course, a tee shirt, jeans and trainers, though it was pretty obvious from the nipple points and the tit jiggle that she was braless, and her tight jeans spoke of an arse as curved and inspiring as her tits.
We’d left after work and arrived at the campsite as the evening was drawing in, just in time to set up the tents and gear before dark. We made a fire and had a lot of fun trying to cook on it. The other guy, Jason, had a guitar and we sang and drank. Drank, all except for Amy who was apparently teetotal. She had a Red Bull and then some Sugar Free Coke. She also refused the joints being passed around. But she didn't hold back on the singing and seemed happy and relaxed.
The only person I knew in the group was Paul. One of the girls, Sarah, was Jason’s. The other was unattached – at least in this group - a twenty something blonde with a nice face and figure, who laughed a lot when any of the guys said anything half funny. I didn’t catch her name when we were introduced, she’d spoken so quietly. Later Amy told me she was Natasha, but I'll refer to her as "the blonde". I thought I might try for her. But she mostly ignored my flirting. We went to bed eventually. Next day was to be fishing.
Having had coffee and badly scrambled eggs for breakfast, we were getting ready to head off when Paul, who seemed pissed off about something, called to Amy and said, Top! Now! holding out his hand. She looked surprised but pulled off her shirt and gave it to him leaving her naked on top. We all stared, nonplussed by what had just happened and then looked away as if it might have been normal. The blonde seemed the most shocked and folded her arms firmly over her chest like she was going to be next. Paul chucked Amy's top into his tent, she obviously wasn't getting it back, then he carried on loading his pack leaving her standing in her humiliation. When he’d finished, he said to her, you might as well take off your shorts and panties as well. Leave your shoes on. You’ll need them for the track. She obeyed silently, and seemed a little chastened and embarrassed, perhaps as much by Paul's manner as by her exposure. Jason’s girlfriend, Sarah, said, you know what, it’s kind of a hot day, and took her top off. Sarah was also braless and her tit’s while smaller than Lucy’s were definitely A grade. It was turning out to be a fabulous show. Sarah looked at the blonde as if to say, come on, solidarity. The blonde made a not-me face and looked away hunching her shoulders and tightening her folded arms. Now naked, Amy had put on her sunglasses, the only covering allowed her, so it was hard to see how she felt but she seemed calm enough, just a little flushed in the face and neck. Paul came out of the tent where he’d been rummaging. First, he slathered Amy with sunscreen all over. I watched, as closely as I could without being a creep. I would have loved doing that for her. Next, he attached some leather straps that held her elbows almost together behind her back and lastly buckled a well-fitting leather collar round her neck. He was a practical man, an engineer by trade, and carried all this out with a deliberate efficiency.
Off we went as if this bizarre occurrence were ordinary and the mood normalised, Paul brightened up and everyone got talking even Amy every now and then, although she was quieter than the night before.
We got to our spot. It was a pool in the river with a gravelly bank and grassy area shaded by trees. Paul took a leash out of this pack and clipped it on to Amy's collar. He led her to the trees and tied the leash so she was left standing unable to move far or sit, and unable to undo her tether because of her bound arms. Everyone carried on, with what they were doing, ignoring Amy. But I kept glancing at her. Partly just to take in her amazing body but also, I was worried about her, restrained by the tight collar around her neck. I said to Paul, is Amy going to be okay? Oh yeah, he said, she's being punished. She knows what it's about. I wanted to but didn't venture further for details. Sarah had ignored Amy’s situation and stripped off to jump into the water. The blonde joined her but left her shorts and tee-shirt on. We guys fiddled with the fishing gear. Jason cast a line. I waded in for a flick. The girls lay on the bank drying and sunbathing. Sarah put her shorts back on and a shirt that she left undone, with her tits peeking out whenever she leaned forward. Very distracting.
After about half an hour. Paul had gone back to Amy, released her leash from the tree and led her back the group where he let he sit against a tree.
Later in the day after a snack. Paul produced a ball gag form his pack, made Amy drink some water and fitted the gag on her. It took some doing getting the large ball into her mouth. It seemed it might dislocate her jaw. Once he had it on her, he said, listen up everyone. Amy, if you get asked anything you have to answer with your tits. Shake them side to side for no and up and down for yes. Sarah and Jason were smirking at the comic command. Have you got it? Paul said. What if she needs to say something? the blonde interrupted. Good point, said Paul. Ok Amy, if you want to say something, signal that by pressing your tits to the ground and I’ll ask you what you want with yes or no questions. Got it? Amy nodded. No Amy! As instructed! Paul gave a little yank on her leash. Have you got it now? he tried again. Lucy jigged her body to get her tits to jump up and down. Her face was scarlet. Both the girls laughed, embarrassed, maybe ashamed to be part of it. Sarah said to Jason, I hope you’re not going to do that to me. You wish, he said, and gave her a hard slap on her ass.
The rest of the day Amy remained naked, gagged and with her arms restrained. A few times Paul went to her, stroked her arse or crotch, squeezed her tits and pinched her nipples. But mostly left her alone. Amy answered several questions as commanded. Even Sarah and Jason joined in asking them. I did once but felt bad about it. Amy indicate she wanted to say something only one time. It turned out, after a 20 questions routine with a lot of tit jiggling that was quite amusing, even Amy seemed to be enjoying the charade, that she was seeking permission to pee. Paul granted it but told her she had to go where she was standing in front of us all. On hearing this, the blonde said, no Paul surely not. But Amy obeyed, spread her legs and peed as we watched - I thought it was "we" but when I checked the others except Paul had turned away. Paul grinned at me.
When Amy had pressed her tits to the ground to get permission, I’d got a fabulous view of her ass and sex from behind. I wished she'd had more to say.
Four brown trout were caught. Dinner. Back at the camp, Paul released Amy's arms and removed her gag. Thank God. what a relief that was so fucking hard, she said. Paul laughed. Good, he said, that was the general idea. Don't do you know what again, or it will only get worse. I won't she replied, I am truly sorry. She stretched her arms, worked her jaw, wiped the drool off her chin and tits that she couldn't control with the gag in, and sucked eagerly on the water bottle Paul handed her. He let her put clothes on because of the evening mosquitoes. The previous night, the blood suckers had been voracious. We all got into jeans and long sleeves. Jason had insect repellent and we all sprayed it on our necks and hands. But around the fire, Paul made Amy pull her shirt up above her tits. He wrapped a towel around her midriff so that only her tits were bare. Even though they'd been out all day I couldn't help staring at them in the flickering fire light. Having them poking out of her otherwise clothed body made them even more alluring. Paul was a such a lucky bastard to have her at all ... let alone as his slave. I was obsessing on the idea of a slave. I looked at the blonde. No chance there. Several times Paul slapped Amy's tits hard, claiming that he saw a mosquito.
It turned out that there probably had been mosquitos. Next morning, Amy said her tits had been itchy all night and they looked a bit blotchy which we could all see because she was ordered tits out again.
Ok guys, Paul said, Amy's tits are available just to the guys all day. Do whatever you like to them. Is that okay Amy? Yes Sir, she said, of course Sir. Sarah stared sternly at Jason and said, before you even ask, you can guess what'll happen if you take that offer up. She stroked Amy on the shoulder. I looked at the blonde briefly, weirdly, as if somehow I needed her permission. She shrugged, made a face and looked away. I decided to take up the offer... otherwise nne would, me being the only guy left, and it seemed that would've been an insult to Paul's generosity and his authority in regard to whatever Amy was being chastised for. But the even bigger insult would be to Amy's amazingly sexy tits. It would've been churlish to reject the opportunity to have a play with them.
I wouldn't say that I feasted that day, but I certainly made the most of the opportunity. And Amy seemed to accept my attentions with grace...even appreciation...perhaps some arousal?
That was my introduction to Amy. Later I was invited to other occasions where I got to know her much more intimately...but always only ever at Paul's offer. He kept her tightly as his property.
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
Outsourced Punishment Session Backfires
|
Postad:1 januari 2024 9:42 pm
Senast Uppdaterad:25 mars 2024 7:44 pm 3795 besök
|
My Slave Ana complained to me that I wasn’t keeping her in line. She said she needed to be punished regularly. It was part of the slave maintenance she was used to from her previous masters. At the time I was annoyed by her criticism. I found it disrespectful and demanding. I wanted to do something significant as a consequence. But punishing her as I might have done normally would just be acceding to her demand.
As I mused over what to do I remembered a guy I'd met at a BDSM munch a few months ago who told me that the only activity he ever engaged in now was punishing female subs and slaves for their Masters. He said, it satisfied his sadistic needs and gave the punishment an extra dimension for the sub and Master. I had asked what he thought the extra was. The unknown quantity was one element, she doesn't know how bad it's going to be or even what it's going to be, whereas with her Master she knows from experience what he's going to do to her and what his weaknesses are in doing it. Another extra was the lack of a relationship with him as punisher that meant no loving or caring overtones for the sub with which to compensate for the pain she received. It really was punishment. Harsh, hard, and impersonal. And great drama for all involved.
He'd gone on with quite a sell job suggesting I might try the services, which he charged for at a very reasonable rate he said and had given me his card. I went and dug it out. It read Strict Results for Women and Girls and gave an email address. I sent a message to address and was surprised by an immediate reply asking for my phone number. I did and got a call straight away. His voice was deep and smooth, I remembered it instantly, and the conversation crisp, business-like. Did the female know that she was due punishment? Yes. Was she familiar with receiving various kinds of corporal punishment? Yes. Would she be likely to be difficult? Not that I could imagine. What degree of punishment should she receive, mild, moderate, harsh, extreme? I went for harsh. He told me the price. It was more than I expected. Did I want to go ahead…he needed a yes or no now. I admit I was flustered by the sudden urgency. I said, can I think about it? He said, he might not answer my call next time. Security reasons. So, I said, yes, but I wasn’t certain. He gave me the address for her to go to, and a bank account number, to pay half now, and half when I received his report. Tell the female the address. I went to tell him “the female's" name but he instantly interrupted. No names, just tell her to come alone and the time to arrive. Lack of punctuality will get her extra punishment and add to the fee. I decided under pressure to go for it and booked a time. Once off the phone I made the half payment. All confirmed. Ana is going to get the message. I felt good about it...maybe...but then I didn't know much about him. Was it a great idea to send her along to this unknown sadist?
When I told Ana what was to happen. She was distraught and worried about why I wasn't punishing her. Because you went too far one time too many, I told her. If you complain about how I do it, well... now you've got a professional. Will you be with me when it’s done? she pleaded. No. Oh Sir, please, what’s he going to do to me? She had tears in her eyes. I don’t know I'm afraid. I was at that moment pleased she was worried. It was a welcome shift.
Two days later, Ana set out for her appointment, I didn't have a clue what she would be getting and that was worrying more than slightly. Was I being careless and stupid? My excitement for the whole thing was diminishing. She was terribly nervous when she left. But I couldn't back down now.
I waited anxiously...
Two hours later a report popped up on my screen informing me that the female had arrived on time, had been punished at the intensity I had ordered, for about an hour in duration, and that the marks confirming this will be apparent on her body when she is inspected. She had been fully cooperative throughout with no problems. Her submissive manner had been excellent. She'd departed his studio at 3.15 p.m. to return to me.
It ended with a request for immediate payment of the remaining half of the fee. But I thought I might see the results and hear from Ana before doing that.
Ana returned about half an hour later and I asked her tell me what had happened in detail. It seemed to have made an impact, because first she knelt down and started to thank me. I interrupted her and told her to thank me by telling me what happened without leaving anything out.
Ana’s account:
I got to the place and went up to the floor and found the office. It had Female Consulting Studios on the door. It was locked. I pushed the bell. The door opened by itself somehow. I went in and was in a room like a dentist waiting room but with no one there. I sat down. At exactly 1.00 o’clock, I know that because there was a clock on the wall, he came in. He looked rich, older but handsome, sharp haircut, probably worked out, he was big, taller than you Sir, dressed in suit pants and a business shirt unbuttoned at the neck with expensive looking shoes. He gave me a piece of paper to read and sign. I did. It said that I agreed to everything and was accepting physical punishment that you had ordered for me, and that I was there by my own free will. It went on to say the punishment would be harsh and painful and would have a sexual dimension and there was a place to specially sign that part as well. That bit frightened me and I asked him if I could know what the punishment would involve. He told me not to talk, just to sign and I’d find out soon enough. So i did, but I was almost in tears by now and my signatures were really shaky. He then made me hold the paper up by my face so the writing was visible and he took a video of me saying to the camera that I had read it and agreed to it willingly and and it was my signature on it. I don't think I sounded willing, my voice was choking up as a I spoke. He said the video was for his protection. He then told me to take off all my clothes fold them and put them in a a chest that was on the floor that he opened and then he left the room. I undressed and put the clothes in and shut the lid. I realised I had left my bracelet on but when I tried to open the box to put it with my clothes I couldn't, the lid had locked. Now I was really scared. I wanted to leave at this point, but I couldn't with no clothes. I stood there for about five minutes. I was shivering and not because I was cold. He eventually came and got me and took me into the studio as he called it.
There was nothing very impressive about the studio. It was just a room, quite big with a table like a dining table, and to the side of that a large carpet spread on the floor. I noticed some hooks on the wall and not much else. He saw my bracelet and without a word took it off me and put it in his pocket. I was told to lie face down on the table. I got up on it as he said. He tied me to it so I couldn't move and told me he was going to strike my arse cheeks 60 times with a cane, and I had to count each one. When I heard that I thought it might be okay, You'd done that to me and more. But even so I started sobbing. He ignored me and carried on warning me to count out loud. The first few were bearable and I could breathe my way through most of them, but the last ten were so excruciating I could hardly speak. At the end he left me lying there for a few minutes, I guess till my breathing settled and I'd calmed down. He undid me and made me get up. As I did and my buttocks tensed they really hurt. He didn't hold back like you sometimes do Sir, it was such a beating. Before I had a chance to rub my poor arse, he pushed me back against the wall and cuffed my hands above head. He had a leather flogger. 60 he said. Pointing the flogger at my left breast he told me that's 1 and then at my right breast and that's 1. I was to get 60 to each. Everything he said and did was very calm and assured. I had to count like before. He whipped my breasts so hard, first from the left side for 15, changing his angle after each 15 to get every part of them. It was awful by the end they were burning red and aching like hell. He took me down and waited while I held my poor breasts. I thought that would be it. But I wasn’t done. He made my lie down on the carpet on my back. He tied ropes to my ankles and knees and pulled my legs right apart and tied them off to the hooks on the walls. He told me he was going to whip my cunt 60 times with the flogger. He did just one as a demonstration. It was so hard, and you know how sensitive I am there, I let out a cry of pain. He had no reaction to that and just explained that it’s 60 again and that if he missed and didn’t strike fully on target, like he hit my thigh or arse instead of my cunt he'd have to repeat the blow. Before starting he spread my cunt lips open with his fingers to expose the inner surfaces. When he was doing it, he told me I was very wet. But just like a doctor observing something. He didn't seem interested in doing anything with it, he just got whipping. By the first 20 I was really struggling. Throughout everything up to that point I had tried to keep quiet but that was over, I screamed and begged at every stroke for it to end, and I was crying throughout most of it. He took no notice and just waited for me to say the number of the strike. If I didn't say it after a couple of seconds, he just continued hitting me until I did, and then he did the next number. I don’t know how many I actually got with all the extra ones cause of that. At the end my face was soaked with tears and my cunt was burning so bad. It still is. When it was over, he just untied me, thanked me for being so obedient and problem free, and said he’d give you a very good report about me. He took me back into the waiting room unlocked the chest with my clothes in it, gave my bracelet back, and told me to get dressed and leave when I was ready. I thanked him for punishing me. I came straight back here.
That was her account. I told her to strip so I could see the marks on her as he’d suggested. Her arse and tits were well covered with welts and some bruises showing up. When she showed me her cunt the whole area was bright red. I was pleased with the treatment he'd given her. I asked her if she felt that it was reasonable and worthwhile? She said definitely. Her enthusiasm surprised me. Tell me what you thought as you were leaving, I said.
Oh Sir, I am so sorry but I was wishing he would have fucked me, Sir. I was wound right up and very turned on by him, by the calm and confident way that he beat me in all the right places, Sir, the pain was excruciating but he got me so ready for him and then nothing...it was a real let down. But I'd go again.
DId you cum at any point? No. but I will if you let me now Sir. Please! I can't stop thinking about him. At that point I realised the whole thing might have backfired on me.
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
The Van
|
Postad:20 december 2023 2:34 am
Senast Uppdaterad:25 mars 2024 7:45 pm 3846 besök
|
A GIRLFRIEND RELATED A FANTASY SHE HAD. I ASKED HER TO WRITE IT DOWN. HERE IT IS.
Suddenly my path is blocked by a large white van that jumps the footpath. The sliding door opens, a man springs out. Before I know what’s happened there's a bag over my head. I’m picked up from behind pinning my arms. Next, I’m in the van lying face down with a knee in my back. My hands are pulled behind me and zip tied together. To stop me screaming the bag's lifted enough to stuff a rag in my mouth and it’s duct taped in place. No one speaks. Just me, making a muffled senseless noise. After what seems an age, I feel the van going off-road onto rough ground where it stops. The door opens and I’m dragged out and carried by two strong guys one holding my legs tightly as I kick. I hear their boots on a wooden floor. They lay me down, take off my shoes, cuff my ankles and lock them to the floor forcing my feet apart. With more manhandling I am standing with my hands released from the zip tie but immediately cuffed above my head stretching me up tight. The bag is removed. The light is dim. There are two men in black coveralls and balaclavas. They ignore me and talk to one another. "Call the others, tell them we've got her." "What do you think? Should we prepare her at all before they get here." " Yeah. Best to have her ready and waiting" One of them takes a knife out of his pocket. Ignoring my whimpering in the gag he takes his time methodically slicing my clothes off you till I can see them lying in shreds on the floor and I’m left naked shivering with fear. He strokes my stomach and shoulders making approving sounds as if to calm me – it doesn’t. "She looks as good as we imagined” the other says. “Yeah. We did good. She’s a hot bitch" Hopeless bewilderment and fear overwhelm me and I’m sobbing uncontrollably in the gag.
They leave me helplessly exposed in the large warehouse-like space with one harsh light shining down on me leaving everything else in dark shadow. Eventually I hear cars and motorbikes arriving. One of the men from before comes back and puts a bag over my head again. I start whimpering. He tells me quietly "Okay. Calm down. Do as you're told, and you'll be alright." I hear more boots on the floor and male voices greeting one another laughing, making filthy remarks, and referring to me in ways I had genuinely never thought of myself before.
One booming voice calls them to "quieten down so we can let the bitch know the deal here." The bag is pulled off my head to reveal eleven large guys some fully clothed, some with no shirts showing a couple of buff muscled bodies but mostly fat hairy guts. All their faces are masked in some way but I feel their eyes stabbing my naked body. I am totally vulnerable and terrified. The one with the voice comes up to me and grabs my face. "if you scream I will make sure you regret it. No one can hear you out here anyway. I'm going to take your gag off now. Okay? No noise!" The calmly assured air of command, not mention the threat, makes me nod without thinking. He pulls the duct tape off stinging my face and takes the rag out of my mouth, which is parched dry from the cloth. He holds up a water bottle and tips some for me to try to gulp down but most of it runs down my face and onto my tits and stomach, I can feel it dripping from my nipples and sex and I can hear myself whimpering, though I am struggling to stay quiet as ordered.
The booming voice makes the following speech to me, his breath in my face stinking of whiskey and cigars :
You’re here so that we can fuck you and use you for the next few hours. If you behave yourself, we’ll take you back and drop you off where we grabbed you. But if you’re trouble, we’ll keep you here for a few days, using you until we’ve broken you, and then we’ll drop you off where we took you. But what we really want is for you to come back voluntarily – he pauses on the word - every couple of weeks. Bear that in mind. Tonight, if you obey us and do everything we tell you without fuss or resistance we’ll let you down, take your shackles off you and who knows – you might enjoy it. But, if you’re going to be difficult, you’ll be bound in whatever position we need while we fuck you and do whatever we want to you anyway, and I doubt they’ll be much for you to enjoy in that case. I’ll let you think about it for a moment while the guys get to know you a little.
He steps back and what seems like a thousand hands are all over me stroking, rubbing, pulling at my tits, slapping my arse, fingers in me everywhere. And the comments that are made have me weeping with humiliation, as they crudely observe various aspects of my body and appearance that I can recall once being proud of, but now are filling me with shame and regret like my bleached anus, and my one pierced nipple and worse even as I am sobbing in fear and helplessness my body is betraying me, and they are noticing that it is, taunting me with my stiffening nipples and my pussy flooding for them.
The booming voice interrupts. “Time’s up! Are you going to be obedient or difficult? Which is it?
“Obedient,” I murmur.
“Speak up bitch I didn’t hear you.”
“Obedient Sir,” I say a little louder. I have no real option.
They let me down. My arms feel dead and leaden, I slump, and one of them holds me up from behind while another undoes my ankles. What follows takes hours.
I am fucked by them all in my pussy, my arse, or my mouth. Some of the cocks are distressingly large, and never seem to wilt even after spurting what seems like gallons into me and on me. I am a cum bucket. My tits and nipples are squeezed and slapped and bruised. They double penetrate me several times. I feel like I’ll split. Often several of them hold me down while others fuck me. I try to stay calm by focussing on their expressions in their eyes as they use me - I still can't see their faces. At one point they line up and I’m told I have to suck them off in turn, but when I’m too slow at bringing them off, they jerk off on my face and on my tits till I’m drenched in cum and the smell of it. They feel free to slap my arse very hard during their activities. One huge guy gives me a spanking every time he uses me because he complains I haven't been trying hard enough for him. I really have. When he’s finished with me my arse is burning red and so tender it hurts whenever they make my sit or lie down with any weight on it.
I am surprised at how long my pussy's lubrication keeps coming. For the first hour or so I remain a very wet girl. I don’t want to admit it but it's true that in a deep dark part of my psyche I am desperately turned on by all the cocks and the endless male attention and my helpless need to submit to these strong guys and their awful sexual demands.
Eventually things start to chaff down there. One of them suggests getting me off to moisten me up again. It won’t work, I think. I’m in no state at all to cum. They force me on my back on a table and pull my legs wide and back over my shoulders, while a guy fingers my pussy and works my clit in motion together. To my chagrin and utter humiliation, he seems to know what he is doing and against my desperate attempts to control it, and not give them the satisfaction, I cum several times during the procedure, and worse, the last time squirting, which gets a great round of applause and whooping, though I find it’s not for me, but for the guy who was fingering me. I’m just an object to be made to do things. And then they are back into me for what becomes another endless round.
Finally, the action comes to a halt. They lock me in a side room. I can hear but not make out some discussion going on and then there’s the sound of vehicles starting up and leaving. I’m in a mess, terrified of what might happen now, feeling sore everywhere, and shamefully guilty for some hard to fathom reason. The door opens and the guy with the booming voice comes in. He hands me a stained old trench coat and my shoes. “We’re dropping you off.” Relief overwhelms me and I can hear myself sobbing again. “Next week at the same time, be at the same place and we’ll pick you up again. Got it?” I nod. Why? What else can I do. It means I’m going home.
The rag goes back in my mouth and is duct taped in place, my hands are zip tied together, and the bag is pulled over my head. They frog-march me out to the van and I’m roughly shoved in the back.
Eventually, the Van stops. The door opens and a guy cuts my hands free and pulls me out, where I stagger on the pavement. My legs are weak and so sore between them I can barely walk. I hear the van speeding away. I pull off the bag thinking of looking for the rego number, but it’s gone. What would you have done with it anyway? I rip out the gag, gasping. Back on the familiar street, with the coat held tight around my otherwise naked body I walk home where I lie on my bed for the rest of the night and most of the next morning masturbating while recalling what has happened to me, eventually getting up to shower them off.
Next week, I’ve convinced myself that I’ve no choice but to go back. I’m waiting at the spot and the time with a mix of anxiety and excitement, wondering if the van will come.
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
KEEPING MY SLAVE REQUIRES EXTRAS: PART TWO
|
Postad:4 december 2023 1:56 am
Senast Uppdaterad:11 mars 2024 9:18 pm 5940 besök
|
FOLLOWING PART 1 (BELOW) IN WHICH MY SLAVE NICKY WAS INTRODUCED
IN THIS PART NICKY SHOWS HER APPRECIATION OF ME DURING A SCENE WITH ANOTHER COUPLE
I was lying on the sofa. Nicky was kneeling beside me, her mouth on my cock, warming it, while I watched Netflix. I was taking little notice of the show, or Nicky’s oral presence, my mind drifting to what I’d do with her and the couple later that evening. I closed Netflix and opened a web panel to watch a KINK video for inspiration. Pinioned as she was on my cock which firmed as I watched, she couldn’t see what was happening, but she could hear, and I hoped it was getting her going as much as it was me. After ten minutes, though, I stopped the video. It was getting repetitive. I pushed Nicky off and took her to get ready for our couples’ date that night.
To put her in a receptive mood for what might come later I decided on a prelude of humiliation. I got her on all fours in the bathtub and filled her up with a large volume enema that she struggled and failed to hold for the time I specified. Her mortification being punishment enough, I left her to get herself cleaned up and ready.
Showered, moisturised, perfumed, and freshly shaved in all the right places, she presented herself for inspection. We still had over an hour before we had to leave. To keep her on the hook I reinserted, expanded, and padlocked the bolt that secured the “pear of anguish” aka “vaginal expander” inside her. We’d only bought the thing that afternoon and briefly tried out. Seeing the pear’s bolt end just sticking out of her vagina it suggested to me the possibility of novel leash arrangement. I found a short chain and with a small D shackle attached one end of it to the pear’s bolt, the other to a ring screwed into the floor. The short length of the chain meant she had to sit, kneel, or lie on the floor as she waited for her evening of use and abuse, hopefully uncomfortably aware of the object stuck inside her sex.
For my own preparation I popped a Cialis. I’d got some on a just-in-case basis for when Nicky arrived and taken it on our first day together, just so I wouldn’t let myself down. I hadn’t used it or needed to since. Tonight, though, with another guy and woman in the scene I didn’t want to go floppy with stage fright. I was still reeling from watching the titanic treatment my stand-in had given Nicky last night bringing her to explosive heights of arousal and release I’d never obtained from her. To quell my anxieties and fill the time I checked my kit, making sure the devices were all charged up and everything was clean and working properly, and pleasantly recalled times I’d used each piece on various grateful subs.
We got to the agreed rendezvous early and had a good look around while waiting for the couple. It was a rentable dungeon. I’d never done dungeons. Nicky said it was very similar to play spaces she’d been taken to. It was spacious, had a few pieces of BDSM furniture, a St Andrews cross, two of floor-mounted posts, stocks, other stuff of the sort, plus a basin and wet area, three sturdy chairs of different potential uses, a long bench, a table, and in the centre of the room so you could walk around it a big bed with an enormous brass bed head. Around the walls and in the floor and ceiling were rings, hooks, various solid bars at different heights for securing attachments along with numerous power outlets.
I thought it would be good to display Nicky immobilised, ready and naked for full impact on our guests at arrival. I bound her to the St Andrew’s cross. She looked amazing with the added novelty of the chain dangling between her spread legs hanging from the unseen vaginal expander. The disadvantage of that arrangement, however, was they wouldn’t be able to walk around her and view her advantages from all sides. I took her down and instead manacled her hands to a ring hanging from the ceiling towards the centre of the room so she could be seen for a full 360 appraisal, and I strapped a penis gag on her.
The couple arrived. They were middle aged, she maybe forty-five and he more like sixty, attractive for their ages. He was very friendly to the point of effusive, she more guarded. After some obligatory awkward chit chat, during which neither could take their eyes of Nicky, we got down to business, ran through rules and limits and so on. Nicky who was the draw card and central object of the night’s activity was only a silent witness to the negotiations about her treatment.
The couple quickly stripped down to their action gear. Both looked fit and toned, even athletic, smiling broadly in their near nakedness. She was eye-catching with good tits for her age, nice legs and butt, and a flattish belly. Her hair was long blonde and shining, beautifully dyed, conditioned, and waved by an expert.
I didn’t really want her, but I thought it would be polite to at least ask the husband if his wife was available for the business of the night. He said I should ask her. She wasn’t his slave, but he was okay with it if she was. She was. She was ready to accept her arse being beaten and whipped but not her tits, although she loved her nipples tortured hard and I could use any of her three holes. But, she said, and this was her big but, she wanted plenty of time to enjoy Nicky with her husband, which is why she came. Interpreting my eyebrows, she added “and with you of course,” and laughed. I don’t know what that meant.
That out of the way they both got their hands all over Nicky as she stood helpless. The wife went crazy over Nicky’s tits, sucking them, biting them, pinching and slapping. The husband quickly found the attachment for the chain between her legs and wanted to know more. I explained how it worked. They’d never seen such a device and wanted to try it out. We unshackled Nicky and laid her on the table so they could get a good look. I unlocked and removed it, to a long groan from Nicky as it was slowly pulled out. The husband wanted to try putting it back in her, which he did with some fumbling. Then he asked me to help him put it in his wife. She lay down held her legs up and apart and we shoved it in her locking it in place. Throughout the procedure she was laughing. I wondered if they were on something. I don’t agree with mixing drugs with BDSM activity, though plenty do. High or not they were here, and once the thing was locked in the wife’s cunt, I decided to take charge. I grabbed the chain now between her legs and yanked till she yelped and struggled to her feet. Keeping it very short I led her at a half run around the dungeon a few times while she giggled as she tried to keep up and avoid the whacks I was reaching back to give her hips and arse with my crop.
I took her back to the others, pushed her down onto all fours and took to her arse more systematically and energetically leaving clear imprints of the crop’s head in several places. As I whacked the wife’s butt, I watched the husband work his semi hard cock into Nicky’s anus and start thrusting while holding her legs up on his shoulders. In response to that, I made the wife kneel and shoved my cock into her mouth. As she sucked it, I could feel Nicky watching us. She couldn’t actually see me, it was just a thought, but it fired me up and I rammed my rigid Cialis-assisted-steel-hard erection all the way into her throat and kept it there, one hand gripping her hair to hold her head firm, the other yanking the chain tight so it pulled inside her vagina and ground across her clit. After about a minute of her choking and gurgling I let her go just enough to let her breathe and then back in. “Hold it like a slut.” She tried to shake her head with the cock right down her throat. When I finally withdrew, the well-mannered sub-wife said, after a coughing explosion, “thank you for your cock, Sir,” “You’re very welcome,” I replied. Yanking her up by a nipple and her cunt chain I handed her back to the husband who was still bucking into Nicky’s arse, putting his wife's chain in his hand. He took it carelessly without pausing his thrusting. From Nicky’s engorged nipples, head movements, toe curl, and flushed places I could see she was on the edge. “Would you like to touch yourself?” I said. She nodded and made a noise through her gag that I interpreted as “yes please Sir.” “Go ahead” I said. I played with her tits while she fingered her clit and the husband fucked her arse, jerking the wife’s chain tighter and violently in time with his hips as he increased his rhythm. Soon the wife was whimpering with discomfort and anxiety as the pear ground around inside her.
It quickly became clear that part of the desperation of the husband’s thrusting was that he was going limp. Nicky made some “please Sir” noises and suddenly turning towards me eyes focused on mine she came, arching her body and making muffled noises in the gag. At that moment an orgasmic clamping of her anus and pelvic floor expelled the husband’s softened cock to flop out. “Did you spurt inside her?” the wife demanded. “No!” “My turn then. Take this thing out of me, please. Now!” she said. Gone was her giggling girlishness and she took on an imperious tone. It seemed she could wear the pants in this relationship. The husband gave a final vicious yank on the chain getting a cry of pain out of her. We picked her up a laid her on her back on the bench. I unlocked and retrieved the thing sliding it out of her slippery hole.
She had her strap-on belted up in an instant and became still more the Domme commanding us to hold Nicky firm while she took to her “delicious cunt.” On each side of the table, we held a leg of my property, while the wife began by licking her. After a couple of minutes, she moved to fucking Nicky and fingering her clit as she did. Nicky turned her eyes to me again and held my gaze. I took her hand and put my cock in it which she grabbed tightly as if it were an anchor, perhaps as much emotional as physical. Her grip and gaze made me feel more secure, anyway. I reached for my crop and began gently slapping her tits as she lay there. I didn’t want the wife to have Nicky all to herself. As my slaps got harder, Nicky gripped my cock tighter and took my gaze more intensely. The wife was now grunting at Nicky’s other end as she fucked strenuously. Nicky flashed a look there, then back to me. The wife pulled out, her dildo shining and slick with Nicky’s cunt juice, and she got back to nibbling and slurping again. Nicky started to moan into her gag and began wanking my cock. The husband put his cock in Nicky’s other hand. At that the wife stopped and demanded that her husband take the gag off Nicky. She wanted to hear her cry out and scream. The husband looked at me. I nodded. He removed the gag.
From then on Nicky was on a roller coaster ride. The wife heard her scream alright, shortly after removing the gag. She came with some noise, but the scream happened as the wife took a leather belt to her cunt whacking as hard as she could at the tender lips. She told her husband to get into the cunt straight after and he managed enough stiffness to accomplish a sound pounding into the beaten slit. While he was in that end of her I got up to where I could get my cock into Nicky’s mouth and face fucked her. Meanwhile the wife had found the clit sucking vibrator in our bag of tricks and got it going on Nicky. She came several times during all this, once with nothing but me in her cunt where again she looked for my connection, I thought longingly, though maybe only blankly in whatever fantasy the action had taken her mind to. At one point they had Nicky kneeling upright on the bed at the brass bed head with her tits poked through the bars to the other side and tied there so she couldn’t free them. Then the husband whacked her arse with a cane while the wife beat her bound tits with a flogger, every now and then saying, “ooh that was a good one.” Nicky’s response was muffled with a gag during that. But when they freed one of her hands, she furiously rubbed another orgasm out as the beating continued.
The evening ended with us all in one of Nicky’s holes. The wife had her tongue up her cunt, and the husband, still fairly floppy I noted with delighted scorn, had his cock in her mouth, while I was firmly and fully up her arse. Don’t ask how the gymnastics worked. We all agreed to try to cum together on the husband’s count of thirty. Nicky certainly came. I could feel the crush of her muscles on my cock. The wife was still whacking herself with her hand, mouth still locked on Nicky’s cunt, while I withdrew from her arse to unload all over her buttocks, and the wife’s face as it happened as she was close in that vicinity. Nicky was sucking frantically and wanking the husband but to no avail and had to keep going past his count of thirty. Eventually, the wife exhaled a long juddering sigh presumably announcing her own orgasm. She stood to take her husband’s cock from Nicky’s mouth, which she then jerked off with a vicious hand job while sealing her face wet with Nicky’s juice to his face in an active kiss that she only broke from to bend down and lick up the residual cum off his purple tip.
The time had come, and I said goodbye to the couple. They were gushing in their thanks and praise of Nicky. The wife insisted on going to where I had left Nicky standing with her hands shackled above her, back in the same bondage position she was in when they arrived. She thanked Nicky directly, giving her a passionate kiss on the mouth. The husband followed his wife and as his farewell he lovingly, perhaps longingly, stroked each of Nicky’s breasts. I had put Nicky’s nipples into clamps to keep her tits alive for later, and his finally parting gesture with an avuncular grin was to twist the clamps around as far as he could.
When they were gone, I took Nicky down, and we lay on the big bed together. I asked her how it was. She said, it was amazing though not as much as the guy last night, but what she loved best and this was better than anything last night, was that I had fully joined in and was with her the whole time. I took her in my arms, and we had loving sex for another hour, mouth on mouth, locked together in her sex, rocking in pleasure in several positions.
Before we left the dungeon, I took her to the wet area and gently washed her down with warm water. Her welts and bruises were now much worse than before, and I started to worry how she would get through what else I had planned for her with more Doms over the next few days.
TO BE CONTINUED...
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
KEEPING MY SLAVE REQUIRES EXTRAS: PART ONE
|
Postad:7 november 2023 6:54 pm
Senast Uppdaterad:11 mars 2024 9:11 pm 5143 besök
|
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…
|
|
|
0
kommentarer
|
|
