msub

As the door closes and I hear the locking mechanism click into place, a small sigh of relief escapes me. Finally I am in the safety of the motel room, registration is complete and as best I know, no one has seen me drive into the motel lot, and I don’t need to worry about if there is a vacant room available for early access on a Saturday morning. Immediately I slip my cell phone out and dial her number. She answers on the first ring and advises she is not too far away and should be here shortly. A relief to know that not much time will be wasted as it was that first time we met. She was delayed getting away from work and I had to wait and wait anxiously for her, wondering if she was actually going to show up.



The shoes and socks are first and are soon neatly nestled next to the easy chair by the small round table near the window. The socks draped over the top of the shoes as she would expect. She doesn’t allow me to be sloppy and scatter my clothes asunder about the room. My shirt and then my trousers are next and are hung on the motel hangers beneath the hat and coat rack in the vanity area. Looking at myself in the vanity mirror, I can’t help but smile. The sheer lacy thong does little to cover my privates. My soft cock is clearly visible through the lacy fabric, pressed upward toward my belly but my balls are protruding out both sides of the thong with very little of them covered. I hope my choice of women’s panties for this week will please her. I doubt it matters to her anyway as I have the suspicion she gets more of a charge out of her vision of me shopping for them each week than seeing them on me. They don’t usually stay on me very long after she arrives anyway and she takes them home with her afterwards so that I have to go shopping again for our next rendezvous. She must have quite a collection of them by now.



Peering out of the slit in the drapes I anxiously await the arrival of her car into the parking lot. Only after I see it do I pull the drapes tightly shut and assume my station, kneeling by the door. I reach up and open the door ever so slightly so that the lock bolt in no longer engaged in the keeper and can be pushed open by her upon her arrival. The thought does enter my mind that I am leaving myself vulnerable by leaving the door like this. There are lots of shady looking characters that hang around this Rammington Inn. Sure would hate to have one of them barge into the room and find me like this. Well it really isn’t the Rammington Inn but that is the pet name she has given it from her love of her strap on.



I hear her faint little knock before she pushes the door open and enters. I don’t know why she bothers to knock but she always does. It certainly isn’t as if she is going to give me a chance to do anything to prepare for her in that split second. “Well, look at you, boy. You did good! My husband will love me in that thong. Very sexy indeed.”



She pauses just long enough to give me that quick inspection and extend her hand for me to kiss before tossing her little black bag and the tennis racket on the nearest double bed. “Tennis anyone?” she chides as she passes by that bed and sits on the end of the far double bed. It is an old tennis racket of mine and harbors her riding crop as well as a tennis racket in its cover since the crop is too long to fit into her bag.



She crosses her legs and the free leg immediately starts flicking back and forth as women so commonly do when sitting with their legs crossed. I heard once upon a time long ago that they get some stimulation of their clit by doing that. Whether true or not I always think that is the case when I see one doing that.



I know the game plan well by now and quickly shuffle over to her on my knees till I am on the floor just in front of her. She doesn’t have to tell me what she expects and just smiles as I loosen the laces of her tennis shoe and remove it. Numerous kisses follow to the top of her foot before finally taking her big toe into my mouth and licking it as suck it. Each little piggy gets the same attention until all have been treated likewise to her satisfaction. Only then does she raise her foot to allow me access to the bottom of it. When the bottom her foot has been licked clean, she crosses her legs the other way and the process is repeated on the other foot. She knows how I hate worshipping her feet like this and that I am sure makes the act pleasurable for her.



“Well boy what will it be? Do you want to dine first or get fucked first?”



“It’s your pleasure ma’am.” I respond.



Pulling up the hem of her skirt to expose her panties, she slips a hand inside its hem and in but a second or two withdraws it. Her fingers are glistening with moisture. “I am so fucking wet just thinking about all the fun I am going to have with you today. Want a taste?” she offers pushing her fingers into my mouth, laughing as she does. “A little appetizer for you, boy.”



“Decisions, decisions,” she remarks. “I would really love to fuck that little ass of yours now but my wet pussy is just crying out for some relief. Hubby is away visiting his mum this week and I am horny as hell. I think what we should do is let you eat my pussy a bit. It’s all hot and ready and I am sure you can give me a quickie before we get into the heavy stuff. Whatcha think, boy?”



“It’s your pleasure ma’am.” I respond.



“Good boy!” and as she stands, she continues, “Let me get a bit more comfortable.”



Still on my knees with my head bowed, I can just get a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eyes as she undresses and lays her clothes neatly on the other bed. She is far from being a fashion model or beauty queen, not even close as her body is showing some effects of her age but it doesn’t matter to me in any way. Every fiber of that body is dominant and just what I want and need.



Pausing before returning, she opens her black bag and dumps its contents onto the bed next to her clothes. I don’t need to see to know what is there. I have experienced those contents many times before. There are leather cuffs, a ball gag, a black blindfold, an assortment of nipple clamps and dildos, a strapon harness, a flogger, a paddle, a collar with leash attached and lotions and lubricants for her use and pleasures. Thankfully she didn’t delve into the tennis racket cover for the crop. I can’t afford to wear any deep marks on the home front.



As she returns I can see she has her favorite toy in her hand, the clover clamps. She might as well get rid of the other nipple clamps after getting these as the others never get used anymore. With a little pinch my nipples are all erect and awaiting their fate. She gives the chain between them a little tug just to make sure they are secure when she finishes their installation. She just smiles at my grimace of pain as they bite a bit harder with that tug. I can take them right now but as time passes I will be begging for her to remove them. And when she finally does, my nipples will be so tender that the slightest pinch will have me crying out.



As she spreads her legs sitting again on the end of the bed right in front of me, I am starring it right in the face up close. A bit of stubble is beginning to show all around it, a week’s growth from when she had me shave her last Saturday. I find myself a little puzzled that she hasn’t already pulled my head between her thighs when she offers, “You know as much as I enjoy seeing your pale white face between my dark thighs, I think I have had a change of heart. My pussy can wait. That little yelp you let out when I pulled on the clover’s chain has perked my sadistic desires a bit. I think I want to enjoy hurting you as a way to get this ole pussy more than ready for your face. My flogger is just crying out to be used on your pale skin. I just love the red lines it makes on you. Maybe afterwards, I’ll let you see just how many orgasms you can coax out of it.”



“On your feet boy!” she demands. “Go put your hands over your head and on the wall over the entrance to the vanity area. I would gag you but I am going to want you to count for me. I hope you know better than to cry out so somebody might hear you outside of this room anyway.”



“Yes ma’am, I’ll do my best.”



“Damn right you will boy. You will stand there until I tire of whipping you and take it like a good little girl. Girls can take pain so much better than you male wimps anyway.”



Her first stoke was vicious and landed near the top of my right hip, the ends of the flogger wrapping around to bite into my side at this location.



My cry out of ooh and one just barely makes it out of my mouth before her backhand stroke lands on the opposite hip at much the same location with the same velocity. “Ooh, two!” I cry out quickly as almost immediately another lands on my right side. Back and forth they come in rapid succession. The oohs fall by the wayside as it is all I can do to get the number out before the next stroke of the flogger finds its mark. My body is jerking back and forth as it recoils from her strokes. Nine then ten, nineteen then twenty, twenty nine then thirty. I am nearing the point where I am going to make use of my safe word when she stops at 35. I feel like she has been testing me, wanting me to use it. She loves it when I have to give in and use it. It is like she has won the contest.



“Time to dine, boy. My pussy is really wet now and very much in need.”



I know she is turning away and headed back to the bed even as I don’t make a move to follow. For whatever reason, I murmur between gasps, “Cincuenta.”



It stops her in her in her tracks, and with a bit of surprise, she asks, “What did you say boy?”



Knowing she has always joked about cincuenta being her favorite number, I thought it a shame to be so close and not let her get to her favorite number. “Cincuenta, my Mistress, cincuenta.”



“So you want some more do you boy?”



“If you wish Mistress?” I meekly reply.



“By damn, cincuenta it shall be boy.”



Almost immediately I know I have made a mistake. If I had thought the first 35 were vicious, I have been badly mistaken. Now my pride will not allow me to use my safe word since it is I that asked for it. I am not sure she would allow its use anyway. Suddenly I am totally in my sub space and oblivious to the pain. I am no longer trying to count and have no idea if she stopped at fifty or not.



As she drops the flogger to the floor I fall to my knees as well. My submission is total and I am hers to do with as she see fit. I have never felt so completely at her will and mercy before as I do now.



She sits on the edge of the bed and lays back on it, slipping a pillow under her head so she can watch while spreading her legs wide. I can see the moisture on her pussy lips and I know she is more than ready for me. Usually I would have gone directly to it but this time I fall to my hands and knees and kiss her feet as a symbol of my total submission to her whims. Slowly I kiss and lick my way up her legs, just barely passing my tongue through her pussy as I work my way up to her chest, kissing, licking and nibbling as I go. I lick and suck on each nipple before moving up to her neck, kissing it from ear to ear.



“I love it boy, but I must ask, what the hell has gotten into you today? Cincuenta? What brought that on?



“I know how It is something you always talked about so I wanted to give it to you. Now that I have been whipped so thoroughly, I want more than ever to do whatever you would like of me to please you.”



“Well if you are tripping around the world boy, you shouldn’t go just to the equator. There is a whole another hemisphere to explore,” she advises as she rolls over onto her stomach. “Continue your journey boy.”



As I reach her bottom, I kiss and lick all over her buttocks until she steps in, “Get that face down between my buttocks in my crack boy. I want to feel that tongue on my asshole. Rim it boy!” she demands.



I don’t hesitate but try as I might, pressing my head into her crack I can just barely reach her anus with the tip of my tongue. Anyway I lick it as best I can.



“Take your hands and spread my cheeks boy. I want to feel that tongue in me boy.”



Sure enough, spreading her cheeks that way, I can get my lips right down against her. As I push my tongue into her tight asshole, I have never before felt so erotic, never so submissive as now.



“Fuck it with your tongue boy! That’s it. Good boy…You are indeed learning a new trick today and I am loving it.”



Never in my life have I ever dreamed of doing such a thing as this but here I am doing just as she directs and thriving on her every word of praise.



“That’s enough boy! My pussy is throbbing and in need of that talented tongue of yours.” And as she is rolling over onto her back again she asks, “Were you sincere in doing whatever I like of you as you said?”



“Yes ma’am, whatever you wish.” Is my immediate response.



“Wonderful. Today you have graduated from just being a sub to being a slave. I love it boy. Now get that pretty white face of yours into my wet pussy and do your thing boy.”



Wet pussy is indeed an understatement. It is awash with her excitement. This won’t take long I am thinking. And as my lips encircle her erect clitoris, I hear the sound of numbers being entered into her iphone. And as my tongue teases it, flicking rapidly across it, I hear her voice say, “Are you busy?” and then after a pause, “Good, I need your help.” And as the movement of her hips indicate her release is nearing, I hear her tell someone our room number. It is the last of her conversation as she drops the phone and grabs my head with both hands, pulling me hard against her pussy. My tongue and lips are fully involved now and it is but a moment more before her cries of ecstasy begin. They seem to go on forever and ever although it is probably just so many seconds until it is over and she gradually releases her grip on my head. “Clean me up boy,” she finally whispers between her gasps for air.



Finally she sits up and pushes me away. “On your feet boy. We have to get you ready for our company.”



First it is the leather blindfold and my world goes completely black. Next are the leather wrist cuffs and my arms are quickly secured behind my back. Next are the collar and the leash.



I can’t see where she is leading me but it is soon evident that the front of my knees are against the edge of the bed. As she continues to pull on the leash, I am forced to bend forward at the waist until my chest and face are against the top of the bed. I feel the bed move and it is but a second that she has positioned herself on the bed so that my head is again between her thighs. “Eat it boy. Let’s see if you can give me another great orgasm like that last one.”



It is still as wet as ever and my face is quickly immersed in her moisture. I am just locating her clit as her phone rings and I hear her say, “Yes that is the right room number. I have left the door ajar so come right in. I think you will know immediately what I want you to do. Just don’t say a word, just do it.”



I am having a bit of a trouble concentrating on the task at hand as I wonder who this stranger is that is about to join us. Could it be her hairdresser that has stopped by a time or two before, maybe her cross dresser friend that she likes to bang, or maybe her friend Brian but he hasn’t been around in such a long time and when he was with us he was only interested in screwing the mistress and not one that it would seem she would tell to just do it. Maybe none of these and someone entirely different. What can it be that this person is just to do? There’s a paddle and a flogger on the bed that they could use. My ass is certainly in the position to make it a great target for either. I haven’t heard her mention the crop so whoever it is surely won’t know it’s in the racket case.



Still I am struggling with my task at hand as my mind wanders, wondering who and what. I guess I will find out shortly as I hear the door open and then close with a solid click as the lock returns to the keeper. Not a word is exchanged and I try to concentrate in vain on eating her pussy. Finally she breaks the silence with, “Here, put this on.”



Got to be a strapon I am thinking. And as I feel it pressing between my cheeks my guess is confirmed. I sure hope they used some KY gel on it. The hands that grip my hips as it presses against my anus are not feminine. Suddenly I realize this is no strapon that is being forced into me. My fears are confirmed as I hear him say, “Nice tight little asshole, this is going to be fun.”



“Sure will be,” she replies. “It has been a fantasy of mine to have my pussy eaten by a sub that is getting fucked up the ass…….Drive that face hard into my waiting pussy Brian.”



“My pleasure Samantha. My pleasure indeed.”



When I had said I would do anything to please her, I had meant for her…but then I guess this is in fact for her pleasure after all. The strokes are long and slow and I don’t find them to be appreciably different from when she uses a strapon in me. Only this time he will cum in me. He will experience an orgasm using me. I am going to be another man’s bitch. It is a mixture of strange sensations and emotions all merged together. It is against one of the limits I set when I first met Sam. But at the same time it is like the pinnacle of submission for me or should I say the depth, being used by another male.



I can feel his grip on my hips tighten as his strokes increase in intensity, his hips banging against my ass cheeks. As I hear his moans of pleasure I believe I can even feel the throbbing of his cock as he explodes inside me. My own grunts are muffled as they escape from the confines of her pussy.



“Beautiful, just beautiful!” she exclaims.



And as he withdraws, he asks, “What should I do with this thing?”



“Just drop it on the floor. I am sure it won’t be the first rubber or the last that the maids find on the floor of one of these rooms. But you shouldn’t waste its contents,” she advises.



“Gotha,” is his simple agreement.



It is then I feel his fingers slip under the collar at the back of my neck. As he pulls me away from her pussy, she protests, “Hey he hasn’t finished with me yet.”



“You can have him back in just a minute, but I need him for a moment first.” Then he continues, “On your knees bitch!”



His tone is not that of a request, but rather a command that he expects me to comply with and I do ever so obediently. “Open wide boi,” he demands and again I don’t hesitate.



His cock is still hard as it fills my mouth. It is also obvious that he has laced it with the contents of that rubber. I tremble with weakness as he says, “Clean it good boi. Lick it all over bitch. Suck on it boi.”



It is not my first experience with a male but is my first time to be on the receiving end and to taste a man’s cum, recalling to my surprise how I had watched her viciously take her little cross dresser with her strapon. She had his skirt raised and his panties down around his knees as she did it at the foot of the bed on which I was restrained so that I could watch. I had been excited from watching and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. Before I could protest, he had vaulted onto the bed and captured my cock in his mouth as soon as our mistress had finished with him. I had watched his head bob up and down on me in rapid movements and was truly amazed at how quickly he had gotten me off. No girl had every done that so quickly. Had it been because I was already excited from watching…or for some other reason?



Seemingly satisfied with my efforts, he grabs my head with both hands and forces his cock into my throat and holds it there until I gag and squirm in an effort to free myself so I can breathe again.



He just laughs before he withdraws and then issues a threat, “Get used to it boi. I am sure Sam can get me back up again in no time. And when she does I am going to fuck that pretty face of yours.” And as I gasp my lungs full of oxygen again, he continues, “Every lil subbie boi needs their face and ass used. Isn’t that right boi?”

The school and university system of England is a strange, anomaly-ridden thing. It has grown up haphazardly over centuries, subject to the caprices of tradition and political whim, baffling to the outsider. One of the anomalies is that the great medieval universities of Oxford and Cambridge (collectively “Oxbridge”) select part of their student intake on the basis of special exams which take place half a year after when most pupils leave school. And, of course, most of the schools which can, practically speaking, afford to keep a select group of pupils on for half a year extra are the private ones, the most expensive and exclusive of which are, most bafflingly of all, known as “Public Schools”. You will have heard of some of these: Eton and Winchester for boys, Roedean and Bedales for girls. As a result, the English school system at any given time contains a cohort of pupils aged over 18 who are spending one extra term at expensive private schools, either at their parents’ expense or, for some lucky few of those from poorer families, supported by charitable scholarships, all in the fervent hope of getting into Oxbridge. Furthermore, in these financially straitened times, it is not at all uncommon for a school dedicated to one gender to open its doors to pupils of the other, for this advanced tuition.



Excuse the history lesson; you did not come here for that. But I hope it serves to introduce the scene we are about to witness. Not at Eton or Roedean, but at the less well known, although no less proud, establishment of St Wendreda’s Ladies’ College, somewhere in the south of England, where Miss Price, the ambitious young Headmistress (teachers in Public Schools are known as Masters and Mistresses) has this year decided to admit boys to the school for Oxbridge entrance tuition.



It is a sunny autumn afternoon and Miss Price is in her rather daunting oak-panelled study, the portraits of her predecessors frowning down upon her. She is catching up on some mundane paperwork. Wednesday afternoons at St Wendreda’s are devoted to sport, in line with the school’s professed philosophy that a healthy body fosters a healthy mind. Through the slightly open window, Miss Price can hear the high, clear voices of the senior girls playing netball and, somewhere further away, the deeper shouts of the boys at football practice. Miss Price is calm and satisfied; the experiment of admitting boys has so far been a success, to judge from the first month or so. Not only financially, but in terms of bringing a certain variety, spice even, to her beloved school community.



The sounds from outside die away as the sports lessons come to an end and the pupils troop in from the playing fields and netball courts to shower and change. Miss Price has finished with one pile of paperwork and pauses for a moment to contemplate her grand surroundings and the long journey from humble roots that brought her here. If only her mother had lived to see it.



Her musing is interrupted by a soft knock at her study door. She stands up. “Come in!” A pause, then another knock. The door is thick, and people do not always hear her voice. She walks to the door and opens it, then stops dead in bewilderment.



Standing outside the door is Paul, one of the most gifted Oxbridge entrance boys (Miss Price’s policy of calling her pupils by their first names is regarded as daringly progressive by her peers). Miss Price knows him as a shy, studious boy, rather awkward in social interaction, but an exceptional academic talent. Paul is trembling and tearful. He has a damp towel wrapped around his lower body and does not appear to be wearing anything else at all apart from his glasses. Miss Price composes herself and speaks calmly but firmly.



“Paul, what on earth is going on?”



Paul can barely get his words out. “Miss … I’m sorry, it’s just Miss Jackson said I had to come and see you straight away. I’ve done something bad, Miss.”



Cathy Jackson is the head of girls’ sport, coaches the netball team and is a formidable woman, unafraid to take disciplinary matters into her own hands. If she is escalating something straight to the Headmistress, it must be serious. And, thinks Miss Price, how would Paul have attracted Cathy’s attention? Their paths should have no reason to cross. Something is very strange here.



“Come in, Paul. Stand in front of my desk there, that’s right. Now tell me, in your own words, exactly why Miss Jackson sent you here, and why you are only wearing a towel. Take all the time you need, but I need the whole truth.”



“Miss, you know this school is a really old building …”



“Of course. What does that have to do with anything?”



“Well some of the rooms have changed use over the years. Sorry Miss, I’ll start at the beginning. We all had sport this afternoon. Football for boys and netball for girls. And we came back in and showered. And I was first in the shower and first out.”



This seems irrelevant, but she had asked for the whole truth. “Go on, Paul.”



“And … and … well like I said the rooms used to be different. I had heard other boys say that if you go to the back of the sports equipment storeroom there is still a door there that would lead through to the girls’ changing room. It’s been locked for years but you can see through the keyhole …”



Ah, thinks Miss Price, now I see where this is going. Oh my God what has he done …



“So … so … I sneaked in there straight after my shower … I was there … at the keyhole … the girls were on the other side, showering and getting changed. And … and … I was watching them, Miss …” His voice was barely audible.



“Is there more, Paul?”



“Miss Jackson came in to the storeroom to put some stuff away. She found me, Miss. She said I had to come straight to you.”



“And that’s it, is it?”



“Yes, Miss.”



“Paul?”



“Miss, I don’t know how to say this …”



“Clearly and truthfully would be my advice …”



“Miss, when Miss Jackson found me, I was … I was …”



“What, Paul?” But she has guessed.



“I was touching myself, Miss. And she saw what I was doing.”



Miss Price looks down at her desk for a long time. Stupid little bastard, she thinks. Why can’t he just watch porn on his phone like all the other boys? The implications of this are gigantic.



“Paul, listen to me carefully. Does anyone else besides Miss Jackson, you and me know about this? Did the girls know you were watching them?”



“No Miss. I’m sure about that.” That at least was good. She trusted Cathy Jackson to keep quiet and await further instructions from her.



“Did you ejaculate? Is there any physical trace of what happened?”



“No Miss.”



“Do you freely admit to what you have done? Did anyone force you? Is there anything about what you have said that you want to change?”



“No Miss. It was just me. It was my fault.”



“Paul, we have here a prima facie case of gross misconduct. Now, as you know, usually this would be dealt with by means of a meeting between you, me, your parents and a representative of the school Governors, and we would agree on a warning, suspension or exclusion from the school. But what you need to understand is that this process takes place in the public domain. Word of your actions would get out – to other pupils and their parents, and inevitably into the media. And if it were to become widely known that my policy to admit boys had led to us harbouring a voyeur, you can imagine the outcome. Parents would withdraw their daughters from the school, maybe even so many that the school was no longer viable. If it closed – after more than 150 years of illustrious history, Paul! – it would ruin the life chances of all the pupils, and the careers of all the staff. The only way to save the school would be for me to resign. I would never work in education again. There would in any case be an official enquiry by the education authorities, and quite possibly the police. Do you begin to understand the seriousness of this situation?”



Paul is weeping uncontrollably. “I am so sorry Miss …”



“I believe that you are, Paul. But that is not enough. You need to be punished for what you have done, and have your behaviour corrected for the future. Now, as this is a private school I do have a certain amount of discretion on disciplinary matters. It is a many years since a Headmistress at St Wendreda’s has invoked her right to dispense a summary punishment of her choice as an alternative to the conventional process, but I think the time has come. Stand close to my desk, Paul.” She gets up and stands behind him as he approaches the desk. “Drop your towel to the floor.”



“Miss …?”



“Do as I say. Drop the towel. Bend over the desk so your palms and elbows are flat on it. Look straight down. Do not move from that position, or cry out. I am about to administer corporal punishment.”



He assumes the position according to her instructions. She stands behind him and begins to spank his slim, pale buttocks, hard and rapidly. She is petite and her hands are small, but all her fury at the danger Paul has put her in goes into the spanking. He does his best not to yell in pain, but cannot help whimpering and gasping. “Yes, Paul, I know it hurts. It is meant to. It’s a punishment.” She does not let up. His bottom flushes a deep red. Even individual small hand marks are visible on his pallid skin. Tears start to fall from his eyes onto the leather surface of the desk.



She only stops when her arm starts to ache. She steps back, her face pink from the exertion. Paul is weeping silently over her desk.



“Turn and face me, Paul, with your hands at your sides.”



“Please Miss, I can’t … please don’t make me …”



“You heard me, Paul, stand up and look at me.”



“But Miss … I’ve … I’ve …”



“What, Paul?”



“I’ve … got … I’ve got an erection, Miss.”



“That is immaterial, Paul. Turn to face me.”



Slowly, he stands and turns, hands by his sides as she had ordered. His body is pale and skinny, small-boned. Almost hairless apart from a shock of thick, dark, pubes, from which his fully erect cock emerges and points, insolently, at Miss Price.



Well well, she thinks. Watch out for the quiet ones. Who would have thought that bookish, shy little Paul would be so impressively endowed.



“Paul, I have punished you for your offence. But now we need to look a little deeper to understand your behaviour and correct it in the future. What moved you to take such a risk when you decided to spy on the girls? In this day and age there are plenty of ways for a young man to see a female body, should he wish.”



“Miss, my parents are really strict. Mum searches my room at home. They keep the computer in the living room and are always around when I use it. Dad works in IT, he’s really clever at finding deleted files and browsing histories. They never gave me any sex education; they said I should focus 100% on studying if I wanted to get to Oxford. They withdrew me from sex education lessons in secondary school, said they didn’t approve. Miss, the girls here are so beautiful in their short skirts and tight blouses, I think about them all the time, I just wanted so much to see more of them …” he starts crying again.



“You know, Paul, in some ways I feel sorry for you. You feel under pressure at home and at school to excel academically, so much so that there is no outlet for some of your natural instincts. Tell me, Paul, what did you see through the keyhole?”



“Miss …?”



“I want to understand you better. Tell me what you were looking at, that excited you so much.”



He takes a deep breath, then the words flow from him. “The girls from the netball team were coming out of the showers. They were all completely naked, towelling themselves off. A couple of them started talking about … about sports bras, Miss. Saying that netball was more difficult if you have … er … if you have bigger breasts. Because of all the running and jumping. There was a lot of talk about breasts and somehow it then got into a discussion about who had the biggest ones and therefore needed the best quality sports bra. They were laughing and giggling. Someone said they should make it official, who had the biggest breasts in the team. So they made Marie the judge, as she has very small ones so it was never going to be her. And it came down to a kind of contest between Emily and Laura. Marie made them stand next to each other with their chests pushed out. They were all giggling like crazy. Marie looked very closely at Emily’s and Laura’s chests, she was even touching their breasts to feel how heavy they were. And she decided that although Laura has really big ones, they are quite, sort of … they sort of stick out, they are sort of firm, but Emily’s are similar size, very big as well, but they are sort of round and heavy. So she said Emily needed the best sports bra. But she gave a consolation prize to Laura for having the biggest nipples, they really protrude. Emily’s nipples are kind of small and flat. And I noticed that Karen was sitting on a bench watching all this and I think she had her hand between her legs and was touching herself. And then one of the girls, I don’t know who, stood right in front of the keyhole so all I could see was her bottom. And then she bent down to pick something up and I could see … you know … everything, between her legs, from behind. And that’s when Miss Jackson found me.”



Caught up in his story, he seems more confident now. And perhaps even oblivious to the fact that he is still naked, and massively erect.



“Thank you, Paul, I appreciate your honesty. I understand that you are a young man with a healthy sex drive that has never been allowed an outlet. Do you masturbate a lot, Paul?”



“Er … yes Miss. Every night in bed, every morning when I wake up. And in between especially when I’ve been around the girls at school.”



“Well, masturbation is normal and healthy enough, despite what your parents think. My concern is that your sex drive is so out of control, as shown by the incident today, that you may escalate to even more delinquent behaviour. I feel I should help you divert that sexual energy in a less destructive direction.”



“Miss …? Er, Miss, what are you doing …?”



She is unbuttoning her plain white blouse. He cannot believe it. She takes it off and folds it over a chair. “My intention is to allow you to express your sexual curiosity in a safe, controlled setting, Paul.” She is wearing a pretty, white lacy bra. “You are interested in breast size, aren’t you, Paul? Do you find large ones attractive?



“Uhhh … yes, Miss.”



“Do you know how bra sizes work?”



“Er, no, not really, Miss, I know there are numbers and letters …”



“The number indicates the measurement around the torso. The letter indicates the size of the bra cups; the further along the alphabet, the larger the woman’s breasts in relation to her body. So for someone like you who is strongly breast orientated, the letter is the crucial thing. Now I know for a fact, from the school nurse, that both Emily and Laura take a D cup although, as you have seen, their breasts are differently shaped. Can you guess what my cup size is, Paul?”



“Oh, Miss, er, I don’t … I mean … I think … yours seem to be a bit bigger than theirs … er … perhaps E cup?”



“Good boy. That’s right. Thirty four E, in fact, which means I have fairly small body but large breasts.” (Miss Price, five foot one and slim but for her magnificent bosom, used to hate netball when she was at school.) To Paul’s amazement, arousal and , if we are honest, terror, she takes off her bra and stands before him with her breasts fully exposed.



“Oh Miss … oh my God … they are bigger than Emily’s or Laura’s. They are beautiful. And nipples even bigger than Laura’s, they stick out so much. Oh Miss …”



“Touch them if you want to.”



“Miss …?”



“Touch them, Paul.”



He has unusually small, delicate hands for a man, and as he gently cups Miss Price’s great pale globes, they seem to overflow his grasp. “How does that feel, Paul?”



“Miss, they are amazing, it’s like they’re firm and soft at the same time, heavy and full, I’ve never felt anything so beautiful. Oh thank you Miss …” He begins to weep again.



“Shh, Paul, we have not finished yet. Would you like to suck them?”



He does not even reply, just bends down to her chest, holds her left breast up to his mouth and sucks, gently but steadily, on her big nipple. And she is getting very very turned on. For a boy who has never touched a woman before, he is good – gentle and attentive. He moves to the other breast, sucks that one a bit harder. Miss Price cannot stifle a little moan as she feels a rush of warmth to her crotch. “Miss … sorry … did I hurt you?”



“Not at all, Paul. The female breast is a very powerful erogenous zone, and your sucking is stimulating me sexually. I will show you more in a moment. Do you see how my nipples are now long and stiff? That is because they contain erectile tissue, like your penis, which responds to sexual arousal.”



“Yes Miss.”



“You did not go to sex education classes, you said?”



“No Miss, my parents …”



“If you had, you would know about erogenous zones. Now as you know very well, the primary sign of sexual arousal in the male is penile erection, which you are demonstrating very clearly as we speak. Do you know what the female equivalent is?”



“Er … not really Miss … something to do with lubrication, I think …”



“Broadly correct, Paul. Erection of the clitoris, swelling and softening of the labia, and, as you say, the production of vaginal fluid as a lubricant. Here, I will show you.”



Unbelievably, she hitches up her smart grey skirt, above the tops of her black hold-up stockings, and slips off her white lacy panties. She sits back in a venerable-looking leather armchair and spreads her legs wide. “Come here, Paul, and look closely. You’ll need to kneel down.”



Spellbound, he kneels, naked and still erect, in front of her with his face close to her wet cunt. Using her fingers, she parts the lips ever so slightly. “You see, Paul, clitoris here, outer labia here, inner labia here, and the actual opening to my vagina is … here. You should be able to see the swelling and arousal, and the wetness of my secretions, very clearly.”



Oh, he can see clearly, all right.



“Paul, I suspect that most of the girls in the netball team remove all their pubic hair. It is the fashion these days. You should not believe the myth that female pubic hair is ugly or unhygienic. As you can see, I trim mine around the edges but leave most of it intact.”



“It’s beautiful, Miss.”



“Thank you. Good boy. If you are very, very careful you may touch my genitals so that you know what an aroused woman feels like.”



Gingerly he reaches out a fingertip to her clit, to her cunt lips. Traces it gently up and down her wet slit. Probes a little further. Just finds the entrance to her vagina. She is breathing heavily now.



“Paul, do you know what cunnilingus means?”



“No Miss.”



“Well perhaps you can guess – you know some Latin.”



“Um … well lingus must be something to do with language, or … ah yes, tongue.” Amazingly, his studious brain has kicked in automatically even in the middle of this outrageous sexual encounter.



“And cunni … cunnus perhaps … I know cuneus is wedge … cunnus, cunni … oh, I see …”



“Cunt-licking is what it means, Paul. Would you like to try? I am very close to orgasm and I think it would demonstrate that nicely.”



“You want me to lick your cunt, Miss?”



“Yes please, Paul.”



He is a natural. Amazing. Very gentle, responsive to her responses. He caresses her clit with his tongue, flicks it softly. Runs his tongue and lips slowly up and down her slit. She pulls her outer labia apart with her fingertips, lets him in deeper. He finds her cunt hole with his tongue, probes it, licks up and down again, gently tongue fucks her, then back up again to her clit.

A Mistress tests her slave’s devotion



My Mistress addressed me.



“I have an ambition to get an article published in a learned journal, slave, and I need your help in some research I plan to do for that purpose.”



“Would you like me to help you write the article, Mistress?”



“Certainly not, slave. Don’t get ideas above your station. I need you as the subject for some physiological and psychological tests I wish to conduct.”



“Yes, Mistress.”



“The article will be about the paradox of masochism. Pain is a warning from the brain that we should avoid doing the thing which causes it. And yet the masochist seeks pain. He puts himself into a painful situation in order to demonstrate his subservience to his Mistress. He wants to suffer for her. He needs to show that his love for her makes him able to overcome the pain she inflicts.”



“A common misunderstanding is that a masochist enjoys pain. Pain hurts a masochist as much as it hurts anyone else. He does not enjoy the pain; he enjoys the fact that he is suffering it for the sake of his Mistress.”



“What form will your research take, Mistress?” asked her slave.



“The simplest way of measuring a male’s pleasure is , of course, via his penis. In my research the subject – you – will be titillated (for purely scientific purposes) in order to encourage an erection. Then the cane will be applied. The behaviour of the subject’s penis in this situation will provide the data for my research. I shall make notes recording which has the greater influence on the subject: the physical discomfort of the cane or the psychological act of subservience. Do you agree to take part in this experiment?”



“Of course, Mistress.”



She sat on the sofa and had the slave kneel before her. She raised the hem of her gold silk dress and allowed her slave a glimpse of lacy stocking-tops and the alluring satin beyond them.



“You may touch yourself, slave. Masturbate.” he was told.



After about a minute or so she spoke again.



“Let’s have a look, slave. Yes, that’ll do. Move to the whipping-bench.”



She followed him, selected a cane and delivered a stinging cut. The slave gasped.



“Stand up!”



She put down the cane and picked up her pencil and pad. She spoke her notes as she wrote them



“After first stroke, erection maintained at more or less full strength.”



She put the notebook down and picked up the cane again. The slave knew that this is his cue to bend over the horse once more.



Another powerful stroke was delivered. The next notes read:



“After second stroke: down to about half-mast.”



“After third stroke: barely erect.”



“Well, that does not say much about your love for your Mistress,” she laughed. “Scared of by a little caning, eh?”



“Excite yourself again, slave, so that we can move on to the next stage of my research.”



Clinically she continued to experiment on her hapless guinea-pig. Several painful stripes were added to his buttocks, before she went to her desk to write up her notes. The slave was ordered to continue with my household chores. He was naked on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor, when the doorbell rang.



“Answer that,” commanded the Mistress. He hurried to her desk and respectfully enquired, “Naked like this, Mistress?”



“Of course.”



He went to the front door, not knowing who the caller was, but grateful that at least the garden was totally secluded and no-one other than the caller would witness my naked humiliation.



He opened the door and there stood Anna, a close friend (and occasional lover) of his Mistress. Anna was wearing tracksuit and trainers and had clearly jogged over to visit her friend, since she was out of breath as she spoke.



“Do you always answer your Mistress’ door dressed like that, slaveboy?” she laughed.



“It was at the order of my Mistress,” he explained, standing back to let Anna into the house.



Anna entered the house and, glancing at the slave’s striped buttocks, commented, “It looks as if you have not been behaving satisfactorily for your Mistress.”



“She has been using to in some clinical research she is conducting,” he explained.



“And you have arrived at the perfect moment to help me with my next experiment,” said the Mistress, greeting her friend with a significant kiss on the lips.



“What form does the experiment take?” asked Anna after the embrace.



“The topic is man’s enslavement to his penis. My slave claims he is totally devoted to me, his Mistress, to the exclusion of all others. I will have him lying on his back and I want you to squat on his face. If he gets erect as a result of that, it will show that his penis is ruling his better judgement. Are you on for that?”



“I don’t want your slave staring at my pussy,” complained Anna.



The Mistress replied that the simple solution would be for Anna to keep her panties on during the exercise.



“O.K. then,” replied Anna, “but perhaps I had better take a shower first. I worked up a bit of a sweat running to your house.”



“No need for a shower!” laughed Mistress, “It will make the experiment all the more interesting. But I will mention your recent exercise in my study notes.”



The Mistress then organised the experiment. The slave was ordered to lie on his back on the floor. Anna peeled off her jogging trousers and lowered herself on to the slave’s upturned face. Her white cotton panties were indeed soaked with her sweat.



As she settled on his mouth, his nostrils were assailed with the mixed aromas of sweat and the delectable acid sweetness of the pheromones that cause the primal desire in the male of the species.



While Anna in her sweaty panties settled on to the slave’s face, her friend was observing the physiological reactions of the subject’s penis.



“Typical man,” she cried in triumph. “Says he loves only me. Then when a woman unknown squats on his face – despite the fact that her panties are soaked in sweat – up comes his cock-jerk reaction.”



She tapped her pen on the half-erect penis.



“End of Experiment Two” she declared and added



“Thank goodness for women,” smiling at Anna.



“Anna, let’s you and me go upstairs and have a bath together as a prelude to our love-making. Slave, bring some chilled Champagne and two glasses to the bathroom.”



“Yes, Mistress.”



“More experiments tomorrow,” she promised.

As the elevator doors opened up on the fifth floor of our hotel, I could just make out Danya’s figure across the hallway. My obvious attraction to her, and her pompous attitude only augmented my discomfort as we passed each other by. My group of juniors had just finished eating dinner, and needed to return to our rooms before curfew. Unfortunately, I was the odd man out, and was placed in a solo room on the fifth floor, amongst all the seniors.



While fumbling to pull out my room key, I glanced back at Danya to get a final glimpse of her magnificent ass before she disappeared into the elevator. Boy, I thought to myself, what I wouldn’t do to get with her!



After entering the room, I sat down to jot some notes down on the days events. I am part of a M.U.N. (model united nations) club, and I had the role of secretary. Our M.U.N. group was on a trip to the Hague and as secretary, I was required to write down important events that had transpired during the day.



I finally couldn’t restrain myself an further, and made my way to the bathroom. Once there I ripped off my pants and began to jack off. I had seen plenty of smoking hot girls over the past few days, and I had no trouble getting off thinking about bending them over and fucking them doggy style.



A few minutes into it, I heard a knock on the door. Wondering who the hell it could possibly be, I stuffed my raging boner into my pants and awkwardly made my way to the front door. I opened it up, and to my complete surprise, I found Danya standing there smiling!



“Heyy there, how’s it going?” She said in a rather nonchalant manner.



After recovering from the initial shock of having Danya actually come to my door, I replied along the lines of, “Can I help you at all?”



“Yea… I guess you can.”



Before I could even muster out a response, she went in for the kill. Her cherry flavored lips hit mine with such ease I nearly fainted. Before I knew it, her tongue was in my mouth, and we were kissing as if we had been in love all our life.



Clearly in complete control of the situation, she maneuvered us into the room, and onto my bed, all while keeping our mouths plenty occupied. She pushed me into the sheets, and climbed on top of me. Before I knew, she had removed my pants and boxers, and pulled her dress down below her tits.



Danya suddenly pulled her lips away from mine, and her tongue began to trace down my chest, stopping right above the base of my cock. A low moan escaped my lips as I reached a state of horniness I thought I never would get to. While fondling my balls with her hands, she began to lick the pre-cum off the tip of my dick.



She hadn’t even started suck my dick fully, and I could feel myself coming close to ejaculation. I figured she knew this, and pulled her head away from dick, licking her lips with a satisfying manner. She then reached behind her back, and unclasped her bra. Her tits sprung out as if they had been imprisoned for an eternity.



“Oh my god…” I whispered gently.



“You like what you see?”



“Ye-yes. Of course!” I stammered



“Well then, here, let me help you get more acquainted with them.”



She climbed back on top of me, this time bringing her chest up to my head. For the first time, I reached out independently, and grabbed a hold of each tit. I thought I died and went to heaven. After licking the entire surface area of each tit, I went down to business and began sucking on the nipples. I could tell I was driving Danya crazy as I even managed to earn a few moans and squirms from her.



While I was preoccupied sucking away on Danya’s tits, she reached over the side of the bed, and picked up her purse. She then pulled two pairs of fluffy hand-cuffs from them and preceded to handcuff each wrist to a bed pole. I was so horny, and so mesmerized by her tits, I barely even knew what she was doing.



After I was securely handcuffed, she climbed off me and stood at the side of the bed.



“Hey, what’s going on here?” I replied, clearly confused.



“Before we continue here, John, I wanted to know whether or not you want to place a little bet first. This way we can, well, make things a little more interesting.”



“Umm, a bet? What kind of bet?” I couldn’t help but to stare as I talked to her, here was hottest girl in the school standing next to me, dressed only in her thong.



“Ok, if I can bring another girl into this room, and get her to perform oral, on ME, then I win the bet. If I return to the room and either don’t have a girl, or she doesn’t go down on me, then you win. AND, all this has to be done within an hour.”



“Well, ok. I guess. But what does the winner get?” I reluctantly replied.



“The loser, has to be the winner’s bitch, for the rest of the trip. They have to do everything the winner wants them to do. Simple as that.”



I still wasn’t to sure about this whole bet, but I wasn’t about to tell this girl to fuck off now. And the thought of seeing another girl going down on Danya, was pretty much enough to get me to do anything.



“Umm. Ok, I guess.”



“Ok, sounds like a plan! I don’t want you doing anything in the mean time, so I’m going to cuff you down.”



She reached down into her bag and pulled out another two pairs of fluffy handcuffs. These were used to cuff my legs to the bed poles on the bottom of the bed. She then reached into her bag and brought out what were two clearly soiled and used thongs.



“I didn’t want you going flaccid on my while I’m gone, so I brought these to help you out.”



“Wai-” As I tried to protest, she shoved one pair into mouth, then wrapped the other pair around my head, placing the crotch right over my nose.



With her crusty thong now softening inside my mouth, I got my first ever taste of pussy. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but I sure would have preferred it if I didn’t have her thong inside my mouth. In addition to this, every time I inhaled, I got a strong whiff of her musky scent. Danya was right, I wasn’t going flaccid anytime soon in the situation I was in. I somehow felt a sense of honor, having the hottest, and probably most popular girl’s underwear in my mouth.



“Ok John, I will be back in hour. Have fun while I’m gone!”



I tried to yell out good luck, but the thong turned it out to be more of a groan. As I relaxed my head, I realized how I excited I was about what would happen in the next few hours. This night was turning out to be one of the craziest nights of my life!

Mistress M released the rope holding me up off the bed by my sore cock and balls and then unlocked each of the cuffs I had to place myself in when I arrived at her house. With Jerry gone, Mistress M and I were alone in her home. She attached a short dog’s leash to the ring on the front of the cock cage. I had no choice but to follow her as she pulled me roughly by my cock and balls off of the bed and behind her.



“Let’s go down stairs for our next bit of fun, shall we?” she chuckled. We went down her stairs and I wondered what room we would wind up in. She continued around the staircase, though, and I saw a stout looking door on the other side which she unlocked with another key from the chain hanging between her breasts.



The door opened to reveal another staircase descending into darkness. She flipped a switch and the stairs were illuminated enough for her to walk down safely. She tugged me right along behind her without a care.



The stairs ended in a basement roughly 40 feet square with a high ceiling. The cinder block walls were painted black and had many things hanging from them such as various sizes of whips, ropes, chains, locks and other wicked looking devices of every description. I felt a chill go through my body.



In the dead center of the room was a table that looked right out of a dungeon from medieval times. Four thick wood planks ten inches wide combined to make the smooth table top that was at least nine feet long. The supports for the table were massive too and it was all made in such a way that each end of the table had what looked like large ball bearings in the middle so the entire table could be rotated. There were numerous holes in the table top ranging in size from an inch in diameter to a six inch hole right in the middle. Leather straps protruded where wrists and ankles and a neck might go.



“Up on the table, b, and lay on your stomach” Mistress M commanded. She threaded the cock and ball leash through the large hole in the center. She loosened the straps at one end and I obediently placed my wrists through each. “Good boy.”, she said and then tightened the straps using some sort of ratcheting mechanism on the other side of the table. I found i could not move my wrists at all. Next she went to the other end of the table and I felt her place each of my ankles through those straps and again she ratcheted them tight. I was now completely immobilized. She finshed strapping me down with one around my midsection and one around my neck. I couldn’t even wiggle the straps were so tight.



“Time to make you more convenient for me.” With that she pulled a lever and I felt the table top move beneath me. She rotated the table 180 degrees until i was facing upward, but underneath the table top. She tugged on the leash and pulled my cock and balls through the hole in the table and placed some sort of lock that held them seperated but firmly secured on the other side of the table. The stretching sensation was mild compared to the rope over the bed just a few minutes before, but still I felt incredibly exposed with my body on one side of the table and my cock and balls locked on the other side. I could not see what she was doing, but did see her legs as she walked over to one of the walls.



She rolled a high, wheeled chair over and sat down on it. I could see her legs crossed and she appeared to be comfortable. Suddenly my world was rocked as a sharp whap came down on both balls! I screamed out in agony and she only laughed. “Yes, b, scream and yell. My basement is fully soundproof and you know how much I love hearing you in pain.” Over and over she spanked my poor exposed balls. Instinctively I tried to move away from the pain but I couldn’t move an iota. I had no choice but to hope it would end soon. Tears were running freely as I felt her continue to flail at my helpless balls. The entire time she laughed and giggled uncontrollably.



There was a short reprieve when I felt her massaging my ball sack. Then a small door in the table top I hadn’t noticed before opened directly over my face. There was Mistress M’s smiling face looking down at me. “How did you like my smallest cane on your balls, b?” she cooed. “Maybe we should try a little bit bigger one. Yes, I think that is what I’ll do next.” Her face left my vision and it was then I noticed a huge mirror directly above the table. I was able to see much of the room from a birds-eye view. I could see the large expanse of table top only interrupted by my cock sticking through a small hole and balls through another hole in the same sheet of wood. It looked like my privates were locked in place by this thin sheet. I wondered briefly if I might be able to pull them back to my side, but, of course, I couldn’t move my body at all. My thoughts were interrupted by Mistress M showing me another cane that looked to be considerably larger than the previous one. I groaned.



“What, you don’t want me to use this one?” she asked innocently. I knew if I answered no, she’d just use it anyway and harder, so I clamped my mouth shut. With a smile she said “Good boy. I’ll leave the door open here so you can see what’s going on. You need punishment for not following my instructions to the letter. Right now I am just tenderizing your balls in preparation for your punishment.”



This wasn’t my punishment? Oh no. My balls were already on fire.



I felt and saw her grab my balls again. She roughly massaged them and then circled her fingers around the left one. Whap! She brought the cane down on it. Indescribable agony shot deep into my stomach and before I could even scream the cane came down yet again. She looked up into the mirror smiling. She gave my left ball five hard strokes and then repeated it with my right. Isolating each ball this way seemed to make the pain more complete and total. Finally, she finished me off with ten quick strokes to both balls.



The effect of watching her punishing my balls in the mirror was wild. My cock was hard as a rock and pointing straight up. She placed a couple of strokes to my cock head just for good measure. She put down the cane and then climbed up onto the table. From my vantage point I could see down from the mirror into her ample cleavage. She was wearing clear four inch stilleto heels. She looked down at me as I watched in the mirror in horror as she started to grind my balls beneath the toes of her feet. First her right foot, then her left. She steadied herself by placing her hands on the ceiling. I could see her flattening my balls with her feet in the mirror and feel the pain shoot into me again at the same time. It was like watching a movie and yet I could feel everything happening in the movie. My throat was raw from the sreaming I had been doing so far and now I was only able to let out squeaks. Again and again she carefully rolled my balls under her feet. As she applied more pressure, they would slip from underneath and pop loose in their bag. She would patiently raise her dainty feet and again roll them underneath. The pain was immense and I wondered if my punishment was to be the popping of my balls by her standing on them.



This went on and on. She switched to her spikes, but each time she pressed down with a spiked heel, the ball would escape. Each time it did, a jarring agony would rush through my body. I thought many times I would pass out from the pain.



Finally, she seemed to tire of this. My balls were swollen now to almost twice their normal size and incredibly tender. My ball bag was a bright red. I didn’t know how much more I could take.



She got down off the table and I felt relieved slightly. Her hands caressed my balls and it felt wonderful. She squeezed harder causing the heaven to transition immediately back into hell.



She went across the room and got something and I could only imagine what awful thing would be next. She had a ping pong paddle in her hand and I knew what was coming. Or at least I thought I did. She opened a tube of something slick and rubbed it all over my cock. It felt cool and then warm. Then warmer.



“This is icy hot and I am going to rub it into your cock. Hopefully, it will make you feel good. If you are able to cum, feel free to do so but if you don’t cum within five minutes, you will be punished more severely.” With these words, she set a small egg timer at five minutes. I could hear it spinning down.



Her hand moved on my cock, milking it roughly with the icy hot. The sensations in my cock were unbelievable. At first it was good, but as the chemical took hold, it was extremely painful! There was no way I could cum like that and she knew it. She stroked me hard and fast. It seemed to keep me just at the edge but I was totally unable to go over. It was such a frustrating feeling. After a few minutes she picked up the ping pong paddle and started hitting my swollen balls in time with her strokes on my cock.



Pleasure and pain mingled together until they were indestinguishable. After what seemed like forever I heard the bell ding on the egg timer and just like that my “eggs” were done too. My cock erupted like a gyser shooting my cum at least three feet straight into the air. Mistress M seemed delighted at this and kept milking me until nothing more dribbled out. My cock felt like it was on fire and deflated rapidly. Incredibly, my balls almost felt normal. I soon learned it wasn’t to last, though.



“Well, b, you almost made it! Unfortunately, you didn’t cum like I told you within five minutes, so we’ll now proceed with the next portion of your punishment. Also unfortunately for you, it will be much more intense.” She rolled a six inch long thin needle between her fingers. What could possibly be coming next?

All kinds of questions about everything, starting from where I was raised, about my parents, what church they brought me to, what they fed me, my siblings, my school experiences and grades, questions about my friends there, girlfriends, when I lost my virginity, my first job, when I left home and why, etc..



And I stood there answering them, too. I told the truth because I knew she was building a portrait of my personality and she’d know if I fudged on a few details here and there. People who do this kind of thing are generally well trained in psychology and I began to suspect more and more that she was. Lying really wasn’t a safe option.



Then she wanted to know about everywhere I’d been up to then, every province, city or town, why I settled there, what I did there, who I knew, girlfriends, vocations, when and why I left.



Again, I honestly answered these and any questions of clarification she had until she finally had no more and at last allowed me to sit, my dick still hard as I allowed myself to look more and more often at her body when I had the chance, hating myself for it every time.



After getting up to get herself another drink, she returned, sitting across from me again and regarding me seriously before speaking.



“You see? What’s so hard about just doing what you’re told? You’ve done very well with that little interview and now I feel I know you a lot better. I know it embarrasses you to have to stand there naked in front of me, but it was for your own good. You see, men are so good at hiding behind their clothes. That’s why the saying, ‘The clothes don’t make the man’. A woman probably came up with it, a pity you men don’t take it more seriously. I suppose it’s not really your fault, though, you’ve been left to run yourselves in this world for so long, it’s not surprising you’d do this to yourselves, that you’d come to what most of you are. You’re an especially sad case. Look at you, you’re still as hard as ever, still so hot for me, even though you hate me. Yes, I know you do. Nevertheless, I accept you as my submissive. I’m even quite happy to have you, and before I satisfy myself with your cock, I’m going to lay things out for you.”



She shifted, getting a little more comfortable while my anxiety level climbed the walls for the ceiling.



“It didn’t have to be the hard way. You tried to fight me, you couldn’t accept my domination of you, couldn’t accept that you have nothing left to fight with. Your problem, pet, is that you’re used to running from your problems. Yes, once all of the little preparations and barriers you erect between yourself and the circumstances that could spoil your selfish little world are battered down, you run. You had very little fight in you to begin with. It’s true, isn’t it? You can’t even stay settled in the same city for three years without wanting to run from all those pesky little hazards and responsibilities that come with sooner or later coming to know people. Look at the string of failed relationships that you yourself sabotaged in the end because, deep down, you knew you’d sooner or later be gone rather than face up to some commitment, some problem. By your own doing, you’re no more than a hunted animal. I see it in your eyes and I always did. You’re a mess, boy. And you thought you could fight me? Exactly what did you think you had to fight with, your stupid pride?”



She paused to laugh at this point while I bit back certain suggestions that, if voiced, would most likely get me beaten to a pulp or imprisoned. At least my erection was finally going away. The worst of it was that I again had no defense for this, again knowing that it was all true and that I’d been ignoring that ugly fact for the last ten years. However, that didn’t mean I needed her to throw it in my face.



“Do you know what you are to me?” she casually asked. “You’re some scruffy, mangy, flea bitten little coyote that somebody mistook for a dog and abandoned at the animal shelter. I rescued you from the needle that someone would have surely given you at some point. But you should never forget that you played your own part in this as well. You placed your fate in my very hands the moment you came through my front door this evening. You had a choice to make and you chose me, it doesn’t matter that you made that choice under duress, the fact is that you’ve willingly submitted yourself to me and you knew you would, knew it all the way over here and you knew it as you knocked on my door. Be honest with yourself about that, at least. Accept the fact that those moments out in that hall were the very last moments of existence for the man you knew as yourself.”



“And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll see that you’re better off. Yes, you are. You have nobody, boy. Nobody wants you and nobody gives a shit about you because you keep everyone at arm’s length. You even tried to keep me at arm’s length, the only friend you have in the world, the one person who does care about you enough to not let you run, even though you don’t know well enough to appreciate me. Yet.”



She rose from her seated position and looked down at me, still driving her demeaning points into my mind and slowly opening her blouse further, showing more of her bra. (DD-cup?)



“You are now my pet. You are my boy. You are my toy, my ragged little coyote and I am your life. From this time on, your purpose is to be whatever serves me. I own you, David, and you aren’t running anywhere because your running days are over.



Once again, she was more or less right in the things she said about me. I closed my eyes and looked into my lap while my erection came back yet again and my shoulders slouched. I somehow felt a little shorter then, a little smaller and a lot more helpless.



“Yes, that’s good.” she approved. “You’re beginning to accept your situation now and the more you do that, the better things will be for you.”







She paused, watching me as she stepped a little closer.



“I know you’re new to my lifestyle, that you don’t understand and how much you hate me for this, but in time you’ll come to feel different about it, about me. You’ll even thank me. Oh yes, you’ll worship the very ground that I walk on and there won’t be a damned thing you wouldn’t do for me, simply to please me. In time, you’ll thank me for saving you from yourself and you will love me. Just the thought of life without me will be almost impossible for you to bear.”



The room was silent for a short time before I broke it to ask in a voice just above a whisper, “Why? Do you really hate me that much? As much as all this?”



“Hate you?” she asked in surprise.



Dagmar smiled, almost sympathetically and eased herself into my lap, taking my chin in her hand and making me look at her again.



“Heavens no, pet. If I hated you I’d have just thrown you to the wolves right away. Oh no, I don’t hate you at all, it’s not like that. True, your rotten attitude at work has angered me many times and continued to bring you to my attention after the first time I saw you in the classroom, but that’s one of the things that convinced me that you’d make such a nice pet for me, that you had such potential. Desperate strays always do make the best pets, you know. So appreciative after one wins their trust, you see. Oh, I was veeery patient, waiting for you to deliver yourself somehow, worrying that you’d run off down the highway again in that foolish looking penis extender you drive.” she said, stroking my once again fully erect phallus with a light fingertip.



I jumped at her touch and she leaned in to shove her breasts in my face with her evil smile.



“In fact,… in ways you don’t understand right now, I adore you. Once I’m through with you, you’ll be my perfect subbie. Ah, Mistress Tonia will be soooo jealous after sticking that worthless little turdball she calls a submissive in my face for the last two years.”



“Um, Mistress?” I shakily asked with her tits in my face, her smiling down at me.



“Mm hmm?”



“You,… You could have just asked me if I’d like to go for a coffee with you or something. I would have.”



She broke out laughing at this while looking at me with an ever hungrier expression.



“Would you like to have an orgasm this evening?” she asked, stroking my shaft expertly now as I went almost wild trying to control myself.



“Omigod!” I replied, closing my eyes and trying not to enjoy her skilled touch.



“Watch this, boy, and answer me, do you want to cum?”



“A-aahh! Mistress! Oh-”



“Beg me to fuck you!”



“Uuuhhh!”



“You know you want me, beg you little bastard!”



“P-pleeease, Mistress, fuck me!”



Dagmar pulled her panties aside, showing me her shaved, glistening wet pussy and moved forward, rising on her knees and pointing me at her ready opening.



“Suck my nipples! Suck ‘em, boy!”



I hauled her cups down, spilling both of her big tits out and began sucking at one of her nipples, fondling her other breast and flicking my thumb across that nipple over and over as I suddenly felt the head of my cock at her lips. She then rammed herself down on me, crudely impaling herself and making both of us yell. She ground around in my lap, ordering me back to her nipples through clenched teeth, her beautiful red lips sneering in the pleasure one gets from finally scratching a deep itch.



“Ohh, fuck! Oh my god!” I wailed between nipples.



She was an animal, grunting and howling, squealing and yelping as she began to hammer herself as best as she could on the soft couch. I started thrusting up into the bitch as she came down, both of us now smashing each other’s pelvis, although it was pretty clear who was fucking who.



“Harder!” She ordered, grabbing the hair at the back of my head in her fist and forcing my face to her breasts as she fingered her clit. “Fffuck! Fuck, yeah! Fucktoy!”



Incredibly, she came first, probably due to the fact that her position on top was a lot more comfortable, and because she really seemed to enjoy this form of violent sex. She hollered wordlessly at the ceiling, her voice breaking over and over until she only forcefully expelled a shout with every ragged breath, ending with a curious whine.



She squirmed in my lap after it was over, my still hard cock inside her as I moaned desperately. Her chin and neck were resting on my shoulder as her hands loosely held to the back edge of the sectional. A moment later she got off me, still breathing heavily, closing her eyes and sighing when I slipped out of her. She stumbled backwards to her seat while I looked at her wide eyed.



“You didn’t tell me you wanted to cum, boy.” she panted, opening her legs and sticking her hand down inside her soaked panties.







“Huhhh! I groaned, in some kind of shock. The rollercoaster had just bottomed at high speed and I could feel the car racing for a gee pulling corkscrew.



“Play with yourself, show me how you jerk off.”



“Uhh?” I asked, beginning to recover as she became stern.



“I said, get yourself off. Stroke your cock and cum all over that nice chest hair for me. Now, boy.”



I looked at her hand down her panties and hesitantly took myself in hand, feeling degraded and humiliated by her once again, but strangely turned on all the more for it. I began stroking myself, watching her do the same.



“Yeaaaaahhh,… Let me see you cum! Oh, yeah! Cum all over yourself, I wa- Ohhh-! I wanna see it running down your cock and all over your balls. Fuckin dirty little pervert!” she swore. “Oh! Ohhh!”



It didn’t take me long to get myself off and, when I did, it was a pretty big load considering all the times I’d been hard up until then. I gushed all over my belly and chest like she wanted and felt completely filthy and denigrated. It was a pretty screwed up moment as I willingly sat there with my legs spread so she could watch my warm seamen running over my fingers. I wanted the bitch to see it, watched her face and got off on some deep level, knowing I’d pleased her by humiliating myself. I hated her with a passion. I also wanted her with the same passion.



I closed my legs and looked away as she removed her hand from the confines of the white lace between her beautiful, powerful legs.



“Ohhh, my little pet! she breathed. “You’re all I knew you’d be and so much more! I’m going to fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you! I’m going to use you in ways you can’t yet possibly imagine and I’m going to always enjoy the poor little expression I just saw on your face, over and over again in so many different ways! Ah, yes, your whole life has changed tonight, I’ve turned it upside down for you and I’ve only just begun. Just wait till you see what your sex life will be. Heh heh heh heeeeh!”



I covered my face with my clean hand and sat there, hearing her get up and come closer. She knocked my hand away, grabbed me by the sides of my head and forced an aggressive kiss on me, driving her tongue into my mouth. When she was finished, she roughly pushed my head away and straightened, her lipstick smeared on a smirking, satisfied, most beautiful mouth.



“Get dressed. You may go out to the balcony for a cigarette, if you wish, but do make yourself another drink. If you don’t need it now, you will soon. Chop-chop, boy, and use a glass this time!, she added over her shoulder, walking away and towards the hallway again with her skirt piled around her waist, tits bouncing free.



Her ass was just perfect. How I loved her body!



I cleaned myself up, with no small amount of shame, using the tattered remnants of my shirt that still littered the floor here and there before gladly getting myself dressed in the clothes I had left. I went and retrieved my cigarettes and lighter from my coat in the entry closet on wobbly legs and then returned to the front room for that drink, which she very correctly knew I needed. Strangely, she seemed to know quite a bit about me.



Luckily, this being May in Toronto, it was plenty warm enough out there without a shirt, despite the fact that I was thirty stories up. The night breeze was warm and refreshing on my bare torso, even this sensation seemingly new and different somehow, another unique aspect of ‘Dagmar World’. Gazing down at the city around me, trying to pull my head together with heavy pulls from my cigarette and glass, I suddenly wondered why in hell I’d ever come to Toronto in the first place. I never settled in large cities anymore and, of all large cities, I liked Toronto the least.



I began thinking about the things she’d said as I watched the lights of an airliner fly by about a half mile out, comparatively low at my own altitude and headed for Pearson Airport.



All those people I’d left behind,…



I looked back down and across the city lights, remembering Gary, a person I grew up with that lived two doors up in my subdivision and was my best friend for years. But people change and shit happens. He begged me to take him when I left my home town of Fredericton the last night I was there.



He was between sets at a local nightclub that he and his band were playing at and it was the first time I’d seen him in a while. I’d realized back a little ways that I was no longer of any use to him, or his ambitions, unless he needed to borrow a screwdriver, or needed help with his car, or some other self serving shit, so I wasn’t particularly moved when he began relating to me what a bowl of dog snot his life was. Yeah, it was, even worse than mine, but I told him there was no room, knowing he’d only be a stumbling block, a dead weight that I could never afford to have. He swore he could travel light, but I just didn’t want him along and, in the end, I was deaf to his pleas. I finished my whiskey-and-water and told him I was sorry, wishing him good luck before walking out.



I remember how free I felt walking to the car that evening, looking up at the stars in the clear, midsummer night sky and even smiling. I hit the highway and never once looked back, but only went faster.



Less than six months later, my mother telephoned me in Montreal to inform me that Gary had hung himself in a cheap motel room in Moncton where he and his band were playing the previous weekend. A few days after that, I received a letter from him in the mail, which I always saved but never opened. Weeks later, I moved to Calgary and mostly forgot about Gary and his letter as though I left them both stranded in Montreal.



Strangely, standing out on Dagmar’s balcony and looking at the life below, it seemed so impossible somehow that Gary wasn’t down there somewhere, walking one of those brightly lit avenues to a nightclub, hand in hand with some bar scene chick and carrying his drumstick case, both of them smiling and happy.



Somewhere down there had to be my family, too, who I ran away from as soon as I was old enough to run with a high school diploma and my first car, the now heavily modified Monza below me. I wondered if they even thought about me anymore, a little surprised to find I actually cared all of a sudden.



The women I’d known in the last decade or so, all of them having moved on, assumedly having found better men than I, were all down there as well, in some form or another. They’d be building happy, secure lives, settled lives that would pave right over top of any history that included me, plowed under once and for all by the power of the mighty ‘Mr. Right’.



It seemed at that moment that I was never so alone in all my life, and never so acutely aware of the fact. I loosely pondered how it would be to fling myself over the railing in front of me. Would I find peace and freedom one last time during those fast seconds of seemingly weightless freefall? A lump formed in my throat and I suddenly found myself fighting back tears until my mouth twisted into a bitter sneer cast down at the populace. At all those who weren’t there and never had any responsibility for me or what I’d become without my even noticing. It wasn’t their fault, but in that moment I hated them all just the same.



“Fuck you.” I mumbled acidicly. I took a drink and another drag, slowly exhaling and looking vehemently below me, adding in a slighter louder voice, “Fuck every god damned one of you!”



I flicked the cigarette butt over the railing, watching its descent until it went down too far to see the bright red cherry at the end. I had much bigger fish to fry at that point, anyway. I turned to go back inside and found Dagmar standing in the doorway, silently watching me with a look of open curiosity on her features. I froze, fixing her with a look of the hunted animal she’d accused me of being just earlier.



She’d changed into a long, navy blue cable knit sweater and skin tight black leggings. She was absolutely stunning. Just magnificent. I wondered if I wouldn’t have been better off if she just happened to be some skinny, titless wonder who-



“Everything alright, boy?”



“Yes.”



” … Come in and sit, now.”



Having just gotten off, it was a bit easier for me to keep my mind off her body and on what was happening as I sat across from her once again, wondering if she was wearing panties. (Fuck!)



I was soon also wondering what this crazy lady had done to my noodle, when she began to speak in an authoritative, businesslike tone.



“You will not bring your binder to work Tomorrow. You will not park in the staff parking lot, but by the curb at the front of the building. You will use the front entrance and will not go to a cubicle, or even remove your jacket. Your priority will be to find Sally and tender your immediate, verbal resignation. You will disregard her, or anyone else’s attempts to change your mind, you will sign the release forms, return to your car and leave. You will then drive directly here-”, she instructed, passing me another stickit paper with another address and time, “-where you will state your name upon arrival and where you will do as you are told. Once this business is concluded, you may have a little time to yourself.”

I nodded, totally resenting her with a tight lipped smile and carefully imparted, “Uh, I have this pesky little thing called a rental agreement that I kinda do have to be gainfully employed in order to-”



“That’s no longer your concern, boy, and watch that tone. You’ve been doing well, don’t ruin it now.”



She became the school principal then, back straight, legs crossed and looking so sharp, regarding me as though I were a suspicious, possibly unruly student who’d been sent to her office.



“I feel we have some understanding here, boy. I feel that you now have begun to accept where you stand. Therefore, I would be reasonably upset if, the next time I speak to you, I have to put up with what arrived here tonight. Quite reasonably upset.”



“Yes.”, I agreed, hearing the defeat in my voice; it sickened and frightened me.



“Tell me you’ll make an effort next time, boy.”



“I’ll make an effort next time.” I dejectedly toned.



“For now, it’s all I ask and all you’re capable of anyway. You were told to be clean and wearing clean and decent clothes. You were also to be on time, respectful and obedient. Let’s see,… You were clean, you were dressed in clean clothes, but they’re little more than rags and quite unbefitting of my status. You managed to be punctual.”



She paused here, raising an eyebrow for effect before stating, “As I’ve said, you were lucky enough to enjoy a short grace period tonight, a sort of orientation to what you can expect. I’ve given you that because, as I’ve also said, you don’t understand yet. You’re about as vanilla as they come, and I do love that, but know that your orientation period is over.”



I nodded, wondering what she meant by ‘vanilla’.



“Good boy.” she said with a rewarding smile. “Now, be off with you, and remember my instructions for tomorrow, carry them out to the letter, and I’ll be in touch soon.”, she said, standing.



“I will.” I said morosely, joining her on my feet.



She accompanied me to the entry where I grabbed my jacket out of the closet and put it on, followed by my boots. I turned and headed for the door, somehow not sprinting the few steps, and managing to hold my head high.



“Boy.”



I turned slowly, facing Dagmar and waiting for her to say some awful and further life wrecking thing.



“Aren’t you going to say good bye to your Mistress?” she asked, neither insulted or angry, merely the Principal.



“Goodbye, Mistress.”



She held me there in her dimensional entry for a few moments, studying me, suddenly looking at my bare chest under my unbuttoned jacket. She stepped closer and grabbed a nipple, grinning and squeezing painfully until I winced.



“Mmmmm. My whore.”, she said with a quality to her voice I’d never heard from any other woman anywhere. “You’d better get out while you can, pet. And make sure you’re properly fed and rested for me, huh?”



I really needed no encouragement. I left her door in a sort of stupor, noticing the rush of pleasure at my nipple after she let it go and as I walked down the hallway with her low giggle following me, my head anything but held high. I could feel her eyes on my back and held a vague fear of looking over my shoulder.



—– —– —– —– —– —–



Blissfully, I remembered nothing the next morning. Not until I made it to the kitchen counter, reaching above the sink and into the doorless cupboard where I kept the Tylenol. I quickly ran some tepid water from the tap into yesterday’s dirty coffee mug and downed three caplets before remembering it all in an unexpected moment between two painful head throbs of my hangover.



I dropped the mug into the empty sink, hearing it break but not caring as I supported myself at the edge of the counter, eyes closed, trying to quell the sudden anxiety that made the two guys in my head hammer all the harder and faster.



After a long, hot shower, my hangover was mostly gone, leaving me at my kitchen table, force feeding myself some potatoes and drinking a coffee (clean mug) with the feeling of having been hit by a bus. Or perhaps a Mustang,…



It was quite early and I had some hours to kill before I ended my employment at the call centre, so I wandered out to the garage, trying to keep my mind off things, to pretend I was still a man and that everything was normal.



Once inside, my attention was grabbed by the car almost right away. Strangely, like the night before, I had to keep reminding myself that this was not the pedestrian destroyer, only the one that was set up to take the rap. It seemed so easy to forget that for some reason. I sipped at my second coffee, standing there staring at it in the shady, unlit bay in my slippers, ratty old dark green bathrobe hanging open and a fresh pair of black briefs. Then it hit me, almost causing me to drop that mug too.



How long would it take before the cops started interviewing people at the call center where Kelly worked? They may have already been to see the dayshift, possibly the nightshift as well after I left the evening before. Would anybody mention the show-off with the loud, bright orange Monza? They’d probably want to ask everyone there if they ever saw other employees driving dangerously,…



“Oh, shit!”, I hissed in dismay, imagining them working their way to Sally to find out where I was, her telling them how I’d left,… And now I had to go and quit, which really wouldn’t look good.



And, oh my god, I pressure washed the car at a public Canwash where they often had security cameras installed! (!!!!)



“Fuck me!” I swore, tossing the mug, along with its steaming contents into the varsol bath with a crash and making a beeline for the door. I never even closed it behind me, just bolted at a dead run for my back door, tearing inside and whipping off my robe on my frantic way to the bedroom.



Less than five minutes later, I was outside again, dressed and with my car keys, soon finding myself back at the Canwash, greatly relieved to find that the smaller, rinky-dink operation obviously couldn’t afford security cams.



I was still smiling, sitting in a place called Giggles, one of those dark, dingy little shopping mall bars that seemed to attract mostly old alcoholics, washed up truck drivers and VLT addicts. I sat there watching the news, as I always did when I went there, and as always, only my eyes were on the screen, not my mind. I was telling myself over a beer that there was nothing I could do if the cops came looking for me from work, wondering if there wasn’t something else I may have missed and trying to convince myself that I was just being paranoid.



Of course, I also thought of Dagmar.



The main problem was that she had me over a barrel and we both knew it. There was no doubt that I pretty much had to play her game by her rules, that was for sure. At least for now. It was just possible (always possible!) that I could yet squirm out from under her thumb at some point in the future, hopefully the near future and, with each sip of my beer, I became more and more convinced that if anybody could give the vampire the slip, it was me. I just had to be patient, batten down the hatches and somehow ride out this storm while keeping my eyes and ears wide open for anything useful, or any opportunity that presented itself. Sooner or later.



Of course, in the meantime, I had to contend with her, didn’t I? That meant that my immediate concern was actually getting those hatches battened, but was that even possible with her? Would I end up being my own Edmond Fitzgerald, going to the bottom of Lake Superior by the overwhelming Alejandro Gale before I could ever find a way-



“In local news, police still haven’t found the hit and run driver that took the life of Kelly Preston two nights ago in front of her place of employment, an Etobicoke area call center.”



The screen cut to a somewhat attractive, uniformed Policewoman, her name stated at the bottom of the screen as being, ‘Const. Amy Gordon’.



“We do know that shortly after one O’clock AM, Ms. Preston was using the crosswalk in front of her place of employment and was struck. The driver did flee the scene of the accident. Unfortunately, there were no witnesses at the time and Ms. Preston was found by a passing motorist who called 911, however, she was dead at the scene. We do have some solid leads that we’re investigating, but we’re asking the public to contact police if anybody saw anything at all and Crime Stoppers is offering a reward for any information that leads to an arrest and conviction on this case.”



The attractive blonde Constable went on to say more, but apparently the Anchor felt it was unimportant, choosing instead to briefly go over who Kelly Preston was, showing friends of hers crying and placing flowers at the curb outside the call center. He finished the piece by informing the public at large that there would be a candle light vigil held that evening.



No witnesses? Solid leads? No sir, I didn’t like it. My smile was gone by the time I walked back out into the sun, feeling like a cockroach caught in the light.



—– —– —– —– —– —–



I was never enamored with my job, despite my success there, so it wasn’t a major problem to quit, especially since I no longer had any choice in the matter. There just seemed very little point in worrying about that, of all things, in light of everything else, anyway.



Sally did try to talk me out of it, looking at me a bit strangely all the while, as if I’d grown another eye or something but, as I said, I had no choice in the matter and, while she didn’t know it, she was talking to the wrong person in that respect. I didn’t see the person Sally would have had to plead with while I was there. Dagmar’s office door was closed the entire time I sat in the center pod, (aka: ‘The God Pod) signing all the appropriate forms, their sort of ‘job un-application process’, if you will. Sally and a few others from management, who never bothered with me before, positively wished me good luck (I figured I’d need that) and all the rest of it. I left and got into my car, leaving and thinking little of it, trying to ignore the flowers and little stuffed animals across the front lawn and at the curb as I pulled out into traffic.



—– —– —– —– —– —–



I had about ten minutes to spare when I parked just down from the address Dagmar had scrawled for me. I smoked a cigarette with the window open, looking at the building which shared the address on the stickit memo. It was a three storey, brick block fronting the sidewalk under the hot, noon sun. There was a business with a plate glass front window at street level, a hanging sign that jutted out from the wall proclaiming it to be, ‘Queeny’s Tats n Piercings’. Less than upbeat about this, I finished my smoke, got out to pay the meter and went inside.







A thin woman who looked about my age, late twenty something, looked up from behind her counter. Her hair was buzzed and bleached and she had tattoos up the wazoos, wearing thick, black eyeliner against her pale complexion, making her look somewhat akin to a raccoon just back from the dead. Piercings adorned her face and she’d dressed herself in tight, black leather pants and vest.



I noticed how ill at ease she seemed right away and, when I presented myself by name as Dagmar told me to do, this became more pronounced.



“This way.” she said to me in a clipped tone.



I followed her, passing another woman whose back was toward us while she worked on a large eagle that covered the chest and shoulder of a big guy who looked at me as if everything wrong in his life was my fault as I passed.



We proceeded to a side room where, once seated, she gestured to what looked a little like a dentist’s chair, telling me to sit down on it.



“Why, what’s goin’ on?” I asked.



“Just sit down!” she snapped.



“Great, another crazy lady.” I mumbled, sitting.



“Undo your pants, tuck the right side down and in, and pull your shirt up.”



Again, I did as I was told. She came over and took some time to prep an area just under the waistband of my faded blue denims before going back to her small work counter and returning with a strange contraption that she promptly used to stick me with.



“Ahh, ff-! What’re ya doin!?” I demanded , jumping at the pain.



An alarmed expression came across her face, which very quickly turned to anger.



“Fuckin hick!” she yelled at me. “If you make me fuck this up, don’t think I’m facing her alone! Got it!?”



“Well, why didn’t you warn me, stupid zombie bitch, I asked ya what was fuckin’ goin on, didn’t I!?” I yelled back.



She shot up and got right in my face, gesturing violently with her contraption. “I’m giving you a tattoo, bright boy! And if you weren’t her slave, I’d gouge your fuckin’ eye out for talking to me like that! So just sit there and shut up, or I’ll call her and tell her you’re being a pain in the ass! Ya get it now, hick!?”



“Well, be fuckin’ careful, stupid!”



“You f-! Fuuuuuck youuuuuu!” she screamed in my face.



Obviously, she wasn’t used to being treated the way she treated others. There was a knock at the door. The other tattooist, presumably, asked if everything was alright in an unsure voice.



“Yes!” the re-animated raccoon spat before addressing me again. “Just sit there and don’t move, and yes, it’s gonna hurt, so suck it up, because if you ruin this, we’re both gonna get it!” Understand, hick!? Just don’t fuckin’ move!”



She didn’t wait for a reply and I only rolled my eyes and shook my head disgustedly anyway, not overlooking the anxiety that fueled her anger before she went back to work. I thought about that and whether or not she was making it hurt like that on purpose as she went about her business, looking down at the top of her head from my reclined position.



Did Dagmar have something on the undead, tattooed critter as well? Was that why she was so afraid? Again, I wondered how my new Mistress could afford to live where she did on a Floor Manager’s salary and just exactly who Dagmar Alejandro was. I also wondered that she obviously hadn’t called the accident at the crosswalk in to 911 that evening. Apparently, she only soaked a cloth and left.



It gave me an idea before all I could think about was how much it hurt getting a tattoo.



When she finally finished the torture of the trillion needles, the zombie slapped cellophane with some stuff on it over her work and repeated some directions to avoid smudging and discoloration a few times, handing me a printed leaflet entitled, ‘So, you got a tattoo’. I was starting to think she’d make me promise on my life that I’d do exactly what she said, but her fear of Dagmar was really enough motivation for me.



Once she was sure I understood everything perfectly, she walked to the front door, opened and held it.



“Get out.”



I hesitated, not quite believing how freaked out my mere presence made her.



“Get – out!” she repeated, more insistent now. “Just fuck off!”



The big guy, who was slowly having himself turned into a wildlife exhibit, spoke up then.



“Queeny, you want me to take him around back and smarten him up a-?”



“No!” she blurted, even more alarmed now, pushing her palm out at him from where she stood in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Don’t lay a hand on him if you don’t want all our lives fucked up for good, believe me, don’t touch him! I said get out, hick!”



I threw up my hands, letting them fall again in a sincere gesture of giving up, looking around at the oaf and then back to Queeny before just walking out like she insisted, shaking my head in wonder as I passed.



Back in the car, I peeled the waistband of my jeans down again to see what was causing the raw, road rash pain on my left, lower belly. It was a black rose with red edging, the colours and light effects creating Dagmar’s initials in the shape and flow of the petals, the same as on her memo stickits. She’d had me marked as her own. The first tattoo I’d ever had and it was feminine!



“Shit!” I breathed, looking at it critically with a frown.



I covered it again, lit a cigarette and sat there for a minute, watching traffic go by before starting the car and pulling out. As I did, I noticed the zombie raccoon, peering out her front window, watching me and biting anxiously on her thumbnail.



At a payphone outside a Pizza Pizza franchise on the way home, I waited nervously for the other end to pick up with the Monza choppily idling right outside, drivers door left open.



“Toronto Police Department.”



“Yeah, I have information about what happened to Kelly Preston, listen cl-”



“One moment while I transfer you, sir.”



“No, I don’t need- Hello? Shit!”



After a moment, “Constable Gordon.”



“Yeah, I got information about what happened to Kelly Preston.”



“Okay, go ahead, Sir.”



“It happened right about five after one AM. It was a red Mustang, 79-93 model, T-top.”



” … License plate number?”



“Never got it. He sped right up the street, around that blind, uphill curve and went right through her. Brake lights never flashed once and he stayed right on the gas till he was gone, I saw the whole thing.”



” … Why didn’t you-”



I hung up the phone. Pushing my way through the swinging, plexiglass doors of the booth, I grinned as I hopped behind the wheel, slamming the door and getting under way, back to my peaceful little home on the lonely, rural road where people left me alone.



Wasn’t I clever?



—– —– —– —– —– —–



A sudden knock on my front door startled me out of one of those really nice, early evening naps, the kind one has after one comes down from two or three beer after a drunk the night before.



I got off the couch, walking into the kitchen and checking out the window that the late sun was raying through.



(Cops! Ho-ly she-it!)



I jerked myself away from the window as they knocked again. With the car in the backyard, it wouldn’t do any good to pretend I wasn’t at home, so I bucked up. Just another sale, right?



I went to the door and opened it. It was Constable Gordon herself, accompanied by another female officer, this one a brunette, shorter than her blonde partner, who was not a lot shorter than I was.



“Uh- Can I he-”



They shoved their way in. Gordon grabbed me right by the throat with one hand, my balls by the other and pushed me backwards, the brunette entering behind her and closing my door.



“Hey, what the hell!?” I stammered in a voice a lot higher than the one I remembered being mine.



The brunette laughed as I was forced to the floor on my front, a boot suddenly holding me down at the back of my neck as handcuffs were clasped around my swiftly captured wrists.



“Hey, get the fuck offa me!” I protested. “I didn’t do nothin’, what the hell are you-?



“Shut up, Legassy!” Gordon ordered as the brunette grabbed me by the hair and held my face up, leering strangely at me. I took note of her nametag, which identified her as Constable Raitt, before she spoke.



“I’ll bet you thought that was pretty clever, huh?” she asked. “Unfortunately for you, we really don’t tape calls to Crime Stoppers, just like we say on TV and, also unfortunately, your call was determined to be a crank.”



“What!?” I asked, not believing what I was hearing, or the implications.



Gordon slapped the back of my head hard and repeated her wish for me to shut up, allowing Raitt to continue.



“Ever been fucked up the ass, Legassy? No?” she asked addressing the sudden look of horror on my face, correctly assuming my answer by it as I watched her remove the police baton from her equipment belt. “Well, since you seem to want to go to jail, maybe we should do you a little favour and get you oriented. Eh?”

Ma’am felt i had been trained well enough to be taken out in public. I picked Her up and drove to the industrial side of town. Here in an old warehouse behind a blue door was a discreet club. This club was open to the BDSM/swingers lifestyle. I was to be introduced to the community.



I had helped Ma’am dress earlier. She chose a lacy bra that accented Her large breast, a loose blouse of creamy white,Her crotchless pantyhose,and a short skirt. She wore Her short boots that i had shined for Her. I felt proud and horny. She looked so sexy and She was wearing the shoes i had shined. The crotchless pantyhose made me hopeful i would get to please Her tonight. Maybe i could show the community how well She had trained me in pleasing Her. I was giddy.



I carried the toy bag. I opened the door for Her and watched Her sexy ass go in before me. Since i was new, She vouched for me and i paid the entrance fee for U/us both. The room was large and dim. I saw a St. Andrew’s Cross, several spanking benches, a rope bed, a Spider Web, a whipping post,and a stock. I was like a kid in a toy store. I wanted to run to each piece of equipment and touch it to make sure it was real. The other side of the room had several chairs,couches,and tables. A large screen showed porno films. A live band played off in the distance. Light rock music drifted through the air with a heavy bass. The bass helped to keep rhythm for the Dom/Dommes as they played their subs on the equipment.



“Uhmp uhmp” She cleared Her throat and got my attention.



I blushed at forgetting myself. I dropped to my knees. I removed my collar Ma’am had given me during training and bowing my head offered up to Her the collar. She took the collar and fastened it around my neck. My dick hardened.



SMACK across the face.



“I know you are new to the club,but let’s not forget your training. I will turn around and leave rather than be embarrassed.” She warned me.



“YES Ma’am” i replied.



She walked off and i followed. W/we toured the dungeon area watching various scenes. I saw mostly female submissives and strong sexy Doms. There were a few subby bois with their hot Doms. I seemed to be the only male sub with a Domme. Lucky me! Ma’am seemed to enjoy the whipping scene. The Dom was “painting” a picture on the subs back with His single tail. He was very talented. I hoped it would soon be my turn to be beaten by my Domme.



W/we had spent alot of time together. She had trained me in BDSM and in pleasing Her sexually. I felt O/our relationship was growing. I was thinking about asking Her to make O/our relationship known in the vanilla world. I had found the perfect woman. The woman i could spend the rest of my life with. W/we liked the same music,food,movies,etc. Not to mention BDSM. I was smiling ear to ear.



“The equipment is too busy right now. Besides i have other plans for you tonight.” She cooed.



W/we walked over to the couches. She sat on the couch with me at Her feet. The short skirt rode up and i could see Her stocking covered thighs. I got excited knowing that just a little farther up was Her sexy,tasty,pussy. She kicked me and told me to get Her a drink. I found the bar and got Her a drink. My throat was dry from the excitement but She hadn’t told me to get one for me so i just got the one. I brought it to Her and presented it as i had been taught.



“Are you thirsty? you may get a drink” She told me.



I headed back to the bar but got called back.



“Where do you think your going? the subs trough is over there. And i think you need to crawl.” She scolded me.



I looked in the direction she pointed and saw a large metal trough with a couple of woman lapping up water like dogs. I blushed but crawled to the trough and got a drink of water. I crawled back to Her feet humbled.



W/we watched the porno on the screen but i noticed Ma’am was looking around at the people. I saw Her face light up with glee. She was looking at a man in a chair about ten feet away with his back to us. I was a little jealous. She is my Domme.



“Do you see that man over there? The one in the chair. Go ask him if his name is Hank. If it is,ask him to come here. Be polite and respectful as i taught you.” she told me.



I crawled over to him and bowed as She had taught me. When He acknowledged me i relayed Her question and request. He walked over to Her as i crawled behind. They exchanged warm greetings and kisses. I blushed as everyone was watching. He sit next to Her and chatted. One hand was on Her knee the other around Her waist. They started whispering and giggled.



“Slut. This is Hank. He is a real man unlike you. He has a dick unlike that little Veinna sausage you have. Tonight i will be fucked properly and you will watch and maybe learn something. Hank stand up and let this slut get you ready” She said.



Hank stood his crotch in my face. I unzipped His pants. I unbuttoned His pants. The monster that popped out shocked me. Soft it was longer and thicker than i ever was. It looked like something out of a porno film. I was just starring open mouthed. He grabbed my head and pushed His dick into my open mouth. It filled my mouth even though it was soft. As it got harder less and less would fit in my mouth. He face fucked my mouth gagging me. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about all the people watching me get pounded by this huge cock. I opened my eyes and looked at Ma’am. She was rubbing her pussy watching the scene.



“Don’t waste that sweet cum on that tiny dicked whore. I want to feel you squirt all of it in me.” She told him.



She got up and bent over me. She had Her arms on my shoulders. Her head next to mine. Her ass up in the air towards Him. Her skirt up around Her waist with Her cunt exposed for Him. He lined up His massive pole with Her wet cunt. She grunted as He started to work the same dick in Her cunt that had been in my mouth earlier. She bit on my earlobe. I could hear Her whimper as He sunk deeper and deeper. I felt Her push down on my shoulders with each push. I started to cry quietly. The woman i considered my Domme was being fuck right in front of me by a man with a dick i could never compete with.



“Aw Yes now this is a real fuck. Not like your silly attempts. Oh Hank fuck me fuck me. I needed this. You are filling me like i really want to be filled. Harder. I have a good support here. Pound it into me.” She yells.



A small group circles us to see Her get fucked and me humiliated. My dick was sticking straight out. I almost cum without touching it. She stiffens and He stops pounding. He is filling Her with His cum. They stay in position resting. He pulls out with a popping sound and collapses on the couch. She leans on me and catches Her breath.



“Lay down my pet” She rasp



I lay on the floor and She covers my face with Her well fucked pussy. I’m then told to “lick Her clean and don’t miss a drop of this sweet creampie.” I lick and suck. I am surprised at the large amount of cum that fills my mouth. I gulp and lock my lips on Her hole to get more. I lick Her until She cums twice more. Each time more cum comes out. I feel my cock explode. I came thinking of sucking up their mixed cum.



She gets up and sits on the couch resting.



“boy you ain’t done yet. Come clean up my cock” Hank bellows.



I obey. I lick up one side of His huge cock and down the other. I move to His shaved balls with His direction licking up a few drops of stray cum. I then hug Ma’am’s leg and pout. thinking about the night’s events. I was full of mixed emotions.



“There, there my pet. you are now not just my sub but also my cuckold. I know you liked it as i saw you came. You knew you have a little cock. You didn’t expect Me to never have a real dick again did you? You will always be my cuck. You will clean up after a real man fucks me. You will service Him as He wishes. You will take care of my needs around the house and anything else i need. Men like Hank will take care of my needs sexually and you will take care of all my other needs. Okay?” She told me.



I looked up at Her and smiled feeling loved and exactly in the right spot.

Contact me if you have ideas of how this story should continue…Let me know how you think it compares to part 01.



*



She left him lying in her darkened bedroom with cum on his face for an hour. It dried like some bizarre, uneven face mask. The cum on his eyelashes crusted his eyes shut. In his nose, it forced him to smell that tangy sexual scent with each breath. It kept him somewhat aroused, against his will. His brain took in the pure sexual scent and the raw taste and turned it into thoughts and fantasies. His brain had cleared from the alcohol earlier. Now all he could think about was the cum on his face and about how his dick had gotten hard in the past hour.



When Anna returned, she smiled at the sight of her slave. His eyes were closed–she entered silently and alerted him to her presence with a long slow lick up the underside of his dick. It practically sprang to attention, standing erect. His eyes remained shut, but his hips shifted and he moaned. Anna continued licking his dick as if it were an ice cream cone, swirling her tongue around the edge of his foreskin and the head. She stuck her tongue in the slit at the top, making him twitch and groan. With his legs still spread wide, tied to the bed, he couldn’t do much. Finally, she forced a cock ring down over his throbbing cock. Untying him, she helped him sit up. Retying his hands in front of him, together, she smiled. “Go wash your face and take a piss. Don’t touch your cock.” She sent him along into the bathroom with a light swat on the ass.



Watching her muscular frat boy stumble into the bathroom, Anna smiled to herself. She still wore her black lingerie and stiletto-heeled knee-high boots. She was pleased to have won Ryan in that poker game last night. He had given himself to her, really, though he had had no idea what he was in for at the time.



When Ryan emerged, clean-faced and confused, Anna sauntered over to him. “Sit down, Ryan.” She said, leading him to the bed. He obediently sat, clearly still a little confused, not quite rebellious yet. “You have a choice. Your only one all weekend. You can leave now and never get to feel my hot, wet, pussy on your big hard cock…or you can stay and experience that and more.” Ryan’s dick had been hard before. He hadn’t been able to get himself to pee in the bathroom because the cock ring wouldn’t allow his erection to go down. But though it had been hard before, it stiffened more at her sexy words. As if to prove her point, Anna lifted Ryan’s hands to her underwear. He could feel the heat and wetness. He shuddered in ecstasy and dropped his hands away. “I’ll…I’ll stay.”



“You promise?”



“Yes Mistress Anna.”



“Good boy. And you’ll obey everything? If you don’t, I have permission to share a video of what happened earlier with all your friends and professors?”



Ryan stared at her in horror.



“Y-yes Mistress Anna.”



She beamed at him. “Glad that’s all settled. Lie down on the bed.” She watched as he hesitantly tried to decide on his own which way he should lie. Impatient, she snapped, “On your back. Head on the pillow. Is it really that difficult?” He didn’t answer, thinking it rhetorical. She grabbed his balls, squeezing hard. “I asked, is it really that difficult?”



“Ow! N-no Mistress!” She gave his balls an extra squeeze, pulling them down hard, then let them go. He whimpered slightly but she was already spreading his legs and tying them to separate bed posts. Spread-eagle on the bed once more, Ryan could do nothing but let her attach his roped-together hands to the headboard again. Stretched out, she found him to be a beautiful sight. She ran her fingernails down his chest, pausing at his hips and then running her hands back up. Tracing his nipples until they peaked and hardened, she met his eyes, then gave each nipple a rough twist. He gasped in surprise and pain, then silenced himself at the look in her eyes.



“I hope you enjoyed cumming last night. You probably won’t cum again for the rest of the weekend. I, however, will. Starting now.” She climbed aboard the bed and straddled his chest. Shifting, she put a knee on either side of him and straddled his head. “Sniff my panties.” He really had no choice. When she was content that she’d smelled him enough, she stood. Slowly, she removed the thong, tossing it aside. She removed her bra as well and then sat down on his face again before he could really catch a glimpse of her breasts.



Wearing only her stilettoed boots, she straddled his face. “Lick my pussy,” she commanded. There was a hesitant pause, and then his tongue slipped out to take an experimental lap at her hot, pink pussy. “Come on now Ryan, eat me out. Can’t you do better? Maybe that’s why the sorority girls won’t take you in,” she taunted. His tongue wiped long swipes along her pussy, pulling away just before the tip reached her clit. “Yes,” she moaned as he got the hang of it. She shifted, giving him access to her pussy and ass and rubbing her clit on the sharp structure of his pert nose.



“Yes, yes, yes!” she groaned in ecstasy as she rode his face towards her first orgasm of the night. “Tongue my clit,” she commanded as she reached the edge. He stretched his tongue up and flicked his tongue quickly across the little bud of flesh. She moaned, shuddering and his face was flooded with her juices. “Keep going,” she demanded. She reached down, grabbing his head and rubbing almost violently up and down his face. His nose slid through the wet lips of her pussy. When she’d had a second and third orgasm on his face, she finally fell away from him. Collapsing contently on the bed beside him, she smirked.



“Nicely done, slave.”



“Thank you Mistress.”



She glanced down and saw that his cock was rock hard. Of course. Men liked to think that they and they alone could give women pleasure. She chuckled and grasped his cock. “Did that turn you on? You liked that, didn’t you?”



“Yes Mistress Anna.”



“Would you like to cum, slave?”



“Yes! I mean…Yes, Anna. Mistress Anna.”



“Well too bad.”



The boy’s face fell in misery as she laughed at his stupidity. She gave his cock a yank and then stepped off the bed. “I’m not satisfied yet,” she told him. She bent down, giving him a clear view of her ass. When she straightened up again, she was holding a lengthy dildo, longer and thicker than his own cock. Ryan blanched but she just promised, “I’m going to slide my pussy all the way down that big cock of yours.”



He was soon distracted when she began doing just that. She spilled lubricant all over his cock, balls, and ass. Then, facing his feet, she squatted over his dick and began sliding down it. The view of her ass and the feel of her pussy squeezing his cock made him able to ignore her fingers playing around his asshole. That was, until she started pushing the dildo inside his ass.



He yelped and tried to thrust his hips away. She followed his movements, and in the end he only succeeded in getting the dildo shoved deeper into his ass. While he moaned and complained, Anna fucked him hard with the dildo, fucking herself on his cock as if it were her own personal dildo. Both of them were panting. She felt his cock tighten under her, saw his balls tighten. She shoved the dildo in hard. In the pain that followed her sharp movement, he experienced no pleasure from the cum spilling out of his cock. She had pressed his prostate into action, milking the cum from his cock. It caused him so much pain that he hardly noticed that he was cumming even past the constraints of the cock ring.



“You stupid boy,” she declared, though she was smirking. “Look at the mess you’ve made! There’ll be punishment for this!”



Pulling off the cock ring, she grabbed his shaft and started jerking him roughly, despite his complaints of sensitivity. Even as the first round of cum oozed from his dick, even as he started to moan in pain, she began to jerk faster.



“We aren’t anywhere close to finished,” she declared.



*



To be continued…

This is a work of fiction.





It was my senior year of high school, and I was just finishing what most would consider the awkward high school stage of my life. I had just turned 18, was getting ready to go off for college, and I was starting to get a better idea about who I was and what I wanted to do with my life.



My mom was a business woman and was always dressed accordingly. She wore suits with skirts, pantyhose, and heels almost daily. I was still figuring out exactly what I liked in girls, and more often than not, my eyes were constantly drawn to long legs and nice asses. The summer was heaven, seeing as how all the girls would wear flip flops or no shoes at all. More so than my love of nice legs, was my love of feet. They were the most sexually arousing weapons that girls were armed with if they had a cute pair of feet.



Living in a house with just my mother, we had established a comfort zone around one another. There were unwritten agreements about what was appropriate to see, and what was not. In accordance, I never bothered my mother when she was showering or changing, and she never bothered me either. I had never seen my mother naked, but we had a pool, and with the bikinis she wore,



I got a pretty good idea of what she would have looked like. 34 C tits, legs that went on for days and were absolutely gorgeous, but it was her feet that were the constant catchers of my eyes. They were the cutest, most perfect pair of feet I had ever laid eyes upon.



My curiousity got the better of me at the beginning of my senior year. I had just gotten home from school, my mom wouldn’t be home for another few hours, and I had the house to myself. I went snooping. Into her room, and straight to the dresser I went. I opened the top drawer to find that it was almost clompletely full of different colors of pantyhose and tights from pink and red, to blue, black, beige, and purple. You name it, she had it. All different opacities, and sheerness. It was like opening a treasure chest. I started looking through, pulling out pairs that I had seen her wear, others that I would like to see her wear more often.



The feeling of the nylon material was very pleasurable. I would carress it in my hands and stretch it. Then, I noticed that I had started getting a bit hard. This was no surprise to me. I had spent the last few years or so since puberty exploring my body and making myself moan into pillows at night, or leaving myself breathless in the shower. I couldn’t help it. Sexual pleasure



was something I had found and continuously wanted more of. I was never satisfied. So, when I noticed that I was erect, for the fourth time today, I didn’t even need to think twice. I pulled my pants off and started stroking my cock right there in the closet. I started reaching my peak, and a thought occured to me to put one of my mom’s thigh high stockings on my cock and cum



into it. So that’s exactly what I did. The orgasm was amazing, and left me craving for more, but I couldn’t push my luck.



I grabbed the cum soaked thigh high I had just used, put all the pantyhose back into her drawer with no particular care on putting them back the way that I had found them, and left my mom’s room. She came home from work, changed clothes, and didn’t notice a thing. So I had continued that ritual for a few months by now. Regularly coming home, jerking off into one of her many pairs of pantyhose and then going on about my business. I always remembered to wash the used pantyhose with my own clothes and put them back whenever I had a chance. I was a genius. Not only that, although inadvertant, the clumsy way I had of putting her pantyhose back, with my favorite pairs on the top, had lead to her wearing the pairs of pantyhose I liked more often. I thought this was a coincidence. But I would soon find out that I was wrong.



It started out just like any other day would, I attended school, my mom went off to work, and before I knew it, I was sitting in the last class of the day, waiting for the final bell. I made a quick dash to my car so I could beat everyone else out of the parking lot and made my way home. I approached my house and no one was home, just as I expected. I got inside, dropped my backpack, loosened my belt, dropped my pants, and went



straight for my mom’s closet. Today, I picked a pair of hot pink tights that she had. Soon I was rock hard and moaning loudly as there was no one home to hear me. Just as I was about to finish, I looked out of my mom’s walk in closet, and into her room and was scared half to death by what I saw.



My mom was standing there watching me. Arms crossed, foot tapping, just staring at what was going on in her closet. I immediately stopped, threw the tights back in her drawer and ran for my room. She didn’t try to stop me. I closed my bedroom door and tried to think about what had just happened. My mom had come home without my knowledge somehow and just witnessed me jerking off. Not just jerking off, but jerking off in her closet, with a pair of her tights on my cock. This was bad. This was the end of life as I knew it. Any minute, she would come in here and start tearing into me, giving me lectures about sex, what was right, what was wrong, and more importantly, the question of why I was using her tights as a condom.



I waited for what seemed like forever. She never came to the door. I nervously peeked out and could smell dinner cooking. Was it possible that things would continue normally after this? That this incident would just be ignored and we would go about our lives as if it had never happened? I hoped it would. I hoped that this moment would be forgotten by both of us forever. Then again, when I started actually thinking about it, it was kind of hot. I was sitting in my mom’s room, working myself over, while my mom just stood there and watched. She didn’t say anything. The look in her eyes was a piercing gaze when I saw her. She was just looking at me with a certain stare that I couldn’t read. I started getting hard again.



‘Fuck. Why now?’ I cursed my hormones as I started jerking off to finish the interupted job that went unfinished earlier. After a rousing orgasm, which I’m sure my mom probably overheard, I changed into my sweatpants and a t-shirt, and headed out for dinner, and the undoubted lecture I was about to recieve.



I very carefully made my way to the kitchen. My mother was busy finishing dinner, so I just decided to get myself a glass of lemonade and



sit on one of the stools at the kitchen bar. I walked my way between my mom and the center island of the kitchen to get to where I was going. We were inches apart and I didn’t even attempt to make eye contact. But at the same time, my focus went down, which turned out to be an interesting move, partly because it was unintentional on my part because I was attempting to avert eye contact, but secondly because my mom had changed into a white dress that reached



just below her knees, and she was wearing the hot pink tights I was JUST jerking off into. I choked on my lemonade, and hastily made my way to a chair. My mind was racing a mile a minute. I was totally thrown off gaurd here. The whole time, my mom just looked at me and smiled.



‘Fuck, what’s going on?’, I thought to myself. This couldn’t be happening. No way in hell, but another glance towards her legs proved me wrong. You could even see some stains from the precum I had left in them, and she was wearing them like it wasn’t a big deal at all.



‘Holy shit’ I thought over and over again. Other thoughts came in and out, but ‘Holy shit’ was a constant. I started gathering my compsure a bit before we finally sat down for dinner. We had a small square table and my mom and I always sat across from one another. We sometimes watched T.V. but my mom had already turned it off before we sat down, and the remote was nowhere in sight, which usually meant no T.V. This occasion was usually only accompanied by scolding for misdeeds at school. So needless to say, I was scared shitless. This seemed different though. My mom wasn’t angry at all, she was the exact opposite. All smiles, with a glass of wine in hand. I was so confused. This didn’t make any sense to me at all.



I tried to pay attention to my food. ‘Alright, now act really hungry, then sleepy, and try to dash to bed. Yeah, that’s a good plan’ I tried to rationalize to myself. I was trying to eat at a pretty fast pace when I felt my mom’s foot touch my shin which was immediately followed by her happily questioning me.



“So, how was your day at school?” She asked.



“Um, fine..I guess.” Was all I responded. Her foot was rubbing up and down gently on my shin.



“Did you learn anything fun?” She continued.



‘Fuck!!!’ I thought.



“No, not really.” I answered. Her foot started rubbing up to my knee.



“Oh there must be something you learned?” She was really forcing conversation.



“Um, may I be excused?” I replied.



As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I had started to ease my way out of the chair. My cock



was so hard at this point, I had to leave. But as soon as I started to get up, her foot moved at lightning speed straight to my fully erect cock and applied a gentle, yet quite demanding pressure. The answer was ‘No!’. She didn’t even say a word. I sat back down. As soon as my butt hit the chair, her foot lingered there for a few moments. Then, giving a little squeeze with her toes which sent shivers up my spine, they then went back to rubbing my shin. I had already lost the battle. She was sitting there, smiling away, and I just melted like putty in her hands, rather her feet actually. She knew she had won, I could see it in her eyes. Something was different about the way she was looking at me. I felt much like prey, but I knew she wasn’t going to kill me. What she DID have in store for me, was quite interesting indeed.







Part One. Let me know what you thought. Feedback is always welcome. Thank you!

“Come here.”



I can’t help but smile. Your sudden arousal had been hard to miss when I returned to the bathroom with nothing more than a hair clip to hold my long hair.



You just stand there, suddenly fascinated with the marble floor peeking between your toes. The only things moving are your thumbs as you toy with the thick white of the towel wrapped around your waist.



I reach out, hook my fingers around the towel and begin to pull you towards the shower. Your gaze jerks up and utter panic fills your eyes. You throw your arms out to catch your balance and knock a loofa off its hook. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Laughing, I let go.



“You can end our date whenever you like,” I remind you.



I undo my hair and it falls in dark waves down my back. I bend over to turn the water on and my bare bottom jutts out. I stay crouched over a moment longer as I retrieve the loofa, letting you appriciate my naked curves. I rise slowly, and return the loofa to its hook.



“Well, Sweetness?” I ask as I pluck a wash cloth off a pristine pile on the semi wall dividing the shower from the rest of the room.



You take a deep breath, drop your towel and step onto the wet tiles with me.



“That wasn’t so bad was it?”



I undo the ribbon around a bar of soap and its floral aroma tickles your nose. As I rub the soap across the wash cloth, my breasts jostle with the movements.



My smile widens as I toss the cloth to you.



“Wash me.”



Stretching into a feline arch, I run my thumb along the frantic pulse in your neck before settling my fingers on your shoulders. I lean my head back and the water makes my dark hair a river down my spine. You look down and find exotic eyes looking up.



Starting with the top of my shoulder, you begin rubbing the cloth against me. I wrap my fingers around your wrist and pull your hand down to my belly, angling so your hand brushes a breast on its desent. Your dick twitches and you try to shift your thoughts. I step closer and press my breasts against your chest.



Taking advantage of my soapy arms, I slide them around your neck and pull your face close to mine. Your hands freeze in place. I push up on my toes and whisper huskily into your ear.



“Now my back and use both hands.”



You remember the cloth and slide it down my back. Your other hand traces the soapy path and you feel a shiver radiate through my body. 



I purr softly and slink a leg along your outer thigh as I cling to you for support. Your eyes widen as you realize you can feel the heat between my thighs even though we’re not fully touching there. I let my leg slide back down.



“Don’t you love the female body?,” I whisper as I reach back and guide your hands down to my round ass. “So perfect in how soft and smooth it is?”



You drop the cloth as your cock swells against my belly. You groan as I shift my hips forward and rub against your erection.



I step back, forcing your hands to fall. I can see the sudden disappointment in your eyes as I bend over to pick up the fallen wash cloth. Re-soaping it, I begin to lather my chest, moving in lazy circles, letting the cloth unfold. The tail of it following my movements, caressing.



I let go of the cloth and lift my breasts with both hands. “They’re so soft and heavy and all at the same time,” I say as I squeeze and bubbles sneak between my fingers.



“There is just something about warm soapy breasts in the shower.” I murmur as I let my palms slide over them. “They feel different from any other part of a woman’s body. And the pleasure they’re capable of . . . ” I trail off as I turn around and press my back side firmly against you.



“Touch me.”



You reach out and touch my waist. I laugh, cover your hands with mine and slide them higher.



“Close your eyes.”



Your palms overflow with feminine flesh. Tenitively you caress my nipples and they tighten under your fingers. You squeeze my breasts gently, finding their yielding texture pleasing.



“Feel them.” I say as I guide your hands in circular motions.



Your cock throbs against the small of my back as your focus switches from my breast to the throbbing desire to explore another part of me.



“Can you feel how tight the nipples get? How good it feels against your fingers when you stroke them?”



Your breath breathing quickens as your hands squeeze rhythmically. Your hips begin involuntarily pumping against me.



I groan as your fingers dig into my flesh. We can both feel your excitement escalating.



Your earlier shyness is washed away by the need to ease the growing ache in your balls. You try your knee between my legs, testing to see my reaction. I push your leg down with my foot and turn around to face you.



I pull your face close to mine and look deep into your eyes.



“What makes you think you’ve earned the right to fuck me?” Your entire body tenses as I grab your balls and twist just hard enough to be uncomfortable.



I release my grip and run my nails along the sensitive skin next to your throbbing cock.



“I’ve got a very very nice place for this” I whisper as one of my hands wraps around the base of your dick, “but only if you’re a very very good boy.”



I put my foot on the semi-wall while a I rest my free hand on your shoulder. I give you a hungry smirk and push down on your shoulder. You hesitate for a moment and then understand.



You sink down to your knees, eyes even with my dark curls. You pause trying to figure how to begin when my hand touches the back of your head and you find your face pushed against my slippery heat.



You open your mouth and hot feminine flesh fills it. You flick your tongue out and taste the silken essence of me. I moan loudly and your dick jerks as you feel pre-cum forming.



Your nose parts my folds and your senses are filled with me. You push your tongue further and force it into the tight depths of me. I cry out and shift my hips trying to take you deeper. My fingers tangle in your hair, not allowing you to pull back.



Your hips helplessly pump as you fuck me with your mouth and my excitement infuses you.



I scream out my pleasure and you gulp down the salty evidence of my orgasm as you own begins to over take you.



You feel your body tighten and seconds later your balls explode. Your hips keep moving as your semen splatters across the tile in thick milky strings.



You fall back and your ass travels the short distance to the ground. You look up and see my pussy swollen and glistening from your administrations. You glance down and blush. The shower is still running but it doesn’t wash away the proof of your lack of control.



I open a fresh wash cloth, spread it out on the wall and sit down. I look down at you, mild amusement in my expression. I hold your gaze a moment before glancing down at the mess you’ve made.



I reach out and gently stroke your head, sliding my fingers down your cheek and taking your chin into my hand.



“Such a lack of self control . . .” I lean over and barely brush my lips against the corner of your mouth. “You can redeam yourself. But the rules change a little.”



You jump as I slide a foot along your inner thigh.



“You can call it a night and go home.” I rub the soft skin of my foot along your limp cock. “Or you can stay.”



I drop my foot and pin your balls against the tile. “But if you mess up again, there will be consequences.”



I lift my foot and release you.



“Are you leaving or will you stay?”

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