There I was, lying on my belly on the floor of my own bedroom, naked and severely hogtied. My arms were wrenched around painfully far behind my back, straining my shoulder sockets considerably and arching my bound torso upward. Quarter-inch cotton cord tied my elbows together high behind my bowed spine, then described a tight spiral all the way down my pressed-together forearms to my elaborately lashed-up wrists. Another long rope was wrapped quite redundantly about my upper chest and shoulders, but it wasn’t these bonds that troubled me. My feet were very widely spread, with my ankles lashed tightly to either end of a sturdy wooden broomstick. Normally, this wouldn’t be too bad either, but my housemate Gisele had also left me with my legs severely back-angled at the knees, my bound feet pulled all the way up behind me so that the center of the broomstick could be part of the elaborate lashing securing my forearms and wrists. This cruel hogtying pulled my restrained, contorted body into a taut bow, stressing every muscle and joint. Yet not even this comprehensive bondage was the worst of my predicament. One more short, taut, quarter inch rope was braided into my ponytail. From here it ran down the center of my back, through the crack of my ass to finally be tied pitilessly tightly about both the base of my genitals and the head of my back-bent erection. Trapped full of blood, fully engorged and pulsating, my straining hard-on was thus yanked cruelly backward between my spread-apart legs. Not only did this crush my rope-bound balls back up into my anus, it made it impossible to lower my blindfolded, ball-gagged head in the slightest amount without causing my hyper-extended penis and crushed testicles incredible pain.
I’d been bound up this way for over an hour, waiting for my delectable female housemate Gisele to finally return here with her two equally hot friends Jakki and Natalie. But then I finally heard them opening the apartment door, and my already pounding heartbeat lurched into overdrive. Their voices were all high and delighted and excited, and I could hear them still discussing the bizarre situation.
“You mean he’s sponsoring the whole damn party? Providing us with a quarter once of coke, an once of reefer, and a cold case of Heineken?” This was Natalie, the one who really made my heart pound. “And in exchange for that he wants us to torture him?”
“That’s right!” crowed Gisele. “We get to tie him up, dress him up, whip and beat the shit out of him, feminize him, sodomize him, and do anything we can think of to torture, degrade, and humiliate him, for as long as the party lasts!”
“We don’t have to have sex with him?”
“Hell no! That’s the best part of the deal. He doesn’t get to penetrate any of us. He gets to ejaculate once, at a point and by a method of our choosing. But we get to penetrate him all we want! That’s why I insisted you bring over all your strap-ons. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get totally coked-up and dildo that little sissy-boy housemate of mine to death! After I whip the living shit out of him, that is.” There were cries of disbelieving excitement about that prospect, more giddy chatter, as Gisele led her two friends across the small apartment and into my bedroom. The other girls got their first sight of me naked and elaborately trussed up on the floor then, and they both burst forth into shrieks of laughter.
“Look what we’ve got to play with!”
“No way! You weren’t kidding! Is that Tom? It is!”
“Nope,” announced Gisele. “For tonight, that’s just a torture-slut fuck-object that has no name. It doesn’t deserve one. But for convenience we can it Slut-boy. Look, what did I tell you: two fat eight-balls on the mirror, an ounce bag of sin semilla and papers, and the cold case of Heineken’s in the fridge there. A totally awesome private party for three very deserving girls. But best of all, we’ve also got us a completely helpless, tightly trussed-up torture-slut to do whatever the hell we want with!”
“I’m getting some downright sinful ideas already!” exclaimed Natalie, sending shivers down my bowed spine, and Jakki eagerly agreed. I was of course blindfolded by buckling black leather, and too overwhelmed with humiliation anyway to even think of looking up at these women as they gloated over me. But their gorgeous faces and forms were as familiar to me as their voices, and I could easily picture and was tormented by their beautiful superiority.
Natalie was of course the worst. Five-foot eleven, a hundred and sixty pounds, she was a very big girl with orange-freckled skin, huge breasts, big arms and shoulders, columnar legs and long, thick, shiny reddish-golden hair. She was so beautiful, yet so large and strong that she pushed all the right buttons in my submission-obsessed psyche. Gisele, my housemate, was her best friend and total opposite, being incredibly slender and just above petite at five-feet four. Her best features were an angelic, heart-shaped face; china doll features; long, wavy, flowing red hair a shade darker than Natalie’s; and of course that succulent, tiny-waisted, pointy-nippled, incredibly lean and spare little body. Jakki was of more average build, with straight blond hair that fell to her shoulders, but even she was patently way too hot for my slump-shouldered, shallow-chested weakness. All three women had of course habitually rejected my sexual advances contemptuously. They were in their early twenties, and had no use for me at all at thirty-four, which they considered sexually defunct. Thus the sure knowledge of my inferiority to such incredible creatures both tormented and turned me on no end, until at last it drove me to make them this outrageous offer. Still they were discussing it.
“But why? I mean look at him there! Why did he agree to this? Why does he want us to tie him up, butt-fuck him, humiliate him, and torture him?”
“Because he’s fucked up! He’s a pervert! Who the fuck cares! Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth here! Let’s just have some outrageous fun! We can get royally fucked up, marshal all the anger and humiliation of the unjustly oppressed female sex, and take it all out on this pathetic little Slut-boy here! I think I’m going to corn-hole him until I come about a thousand times! Beat the crap out of him; ream him out, maybe even piss in his face before I’m done. Are you guys into it, or what?”
The girls slapped high-fives, hugged and kissed. Candles were lit here, there, and everywhere; Jimi Hendrix was put on the stereo, and Gisele got three cold beers from the fridge. Groveling blindly, sucking the big gag-ball, I lay on my belly on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, where the drugs I’d promised them were all laid out. The three girls sat on the couch to drink and party, resting their feet on my hog-tied form, occasionally kicking or spurning me when they changed position or merely felt like it.
The first few beers were guzzled down, a fat joint was rolled and smoked, and there was much chopping and sniffing from the table above me. Soon the girls were talking and laughing happily and excitedly, everyone going a mile a minute, and I seemed almost forgotten. Or so I thought. But then suddenly someone reached down, grabbed the taut rope connecting my ponytail and my back-bent erection, and pulled on it hard. I gave a strangled bleat into the ball gag, and then recognized Natalie’s sneering laugh.
“That’s great! Clever bondage trick, Gisele! But will he be able to eat pussy like that? My black boyfriend doesn’t believe in it, and I could use a good tongue-slut.”
“I know a way to find out!” sang Gisele
“And if he can’t, we’ll just have to untie him,” added Jakki. “After all, we can’t very well whip him raw and butt-fuck him the way he is now.”
“The way it is now,” corrected Natalie. “This thing has no longer has any fixed sex. It exists only to be used in whatever fashion we, its Mistresses, see fit. I myself intend to use it as an automatic cunnilingus machine. After that I say we untie it, feminize it, tie it up again in a more accessible fashion. Then we can beat it and fuck it to within an inch of it’ s measly life!”
“Agreed!” the others chorused. Bottles clinked, and they drank to the plan. A few more lines of coke were snorted, but it was my heart that was truly racing. At last the girls pushed the coffee table away, and Natalie moved around to confront my blindfolded, ball-gagged face. Strong hands brusquely removed both restraints, and soon I was gasping and blinking up at the woman I most coveted, my face flushed red with unbearable shame. She sneered back, beautiful, contemptuous, and snarled at me.
“Here we go, slut-bitch-piece of shit! Here’s your first test of the night! I want you to suck on the crotch a nigger fucks! And you’d better do a damn good job of it! I haven’t come in someone’s face in over a year now, and I fully expect to come in yours! If I don’t.Oh, baby, your night is going to be such a living hell!”
“Not that it won’t be anyway!” Gisele chimed in cheerfully. “I’m going to see to that! I’m going to make our stupid little Slut-boy here so fucking sorry it ever dreamed up this ridiculous stunt! Cocaine just makes me so aggressive, so wild and demanding! And this piece of shit fucking begged me to be just as cruel and heartless and creative and inventive and pitiless as I can possibly be in emasculating it! Didn’t you, Slut-boy?”
“Yes, Mistress Gisele,” I managed to mumble at the floor. They all shrieked again with drug-assisted glee. Then without further ado Natalie lifted the leather skirt she was wearing, revealing nothing but a beautifully shaved vagina and winking pink anus beneath. She sat on the floor in front of me, splay-legged, and scootched herself forward until she’d pushed her pubis right into my face. One hand went to the carpet for support, and the other found the back of my head. She breathed down excitedly, “Now, Slut-boy, picture my bad boy Jamie hammering his long hard tool inside me while you eat me out! Wouldn’t you like to taste and feel that big black licorice stick yourself?”
Not giving me a chance to reply, she shoved my face down to meet her hungry vagina, yanking on my connected cock and balls brutally. Torturing my crushed nuts and back-bent prick, she forced me to perform cunnilingus on her while the other girls continued to party and coke up. I even perceived them feeding Natalie spoons as she gasped and writhed and pumped against my face, and the speed with which she humped my flickering tongue seemed to accelerate endlessly. At last she cried out the first orgasm of the night, as her already running with liquid womanhood suddenly spat out a thick ejaculate, straight into my frantically working face. I did my best to lap up everything I could reach, ignoring the slime dripping down my features to tidy up Natalie. This was the culmination of one of my fondest dreams here, and I savored it while the three girls cheered, clinking bottles and chugging beers to the first slut-soiling of the night.
That called for more weed, more lines, and fresh bottles of beer. I lay there forgotten and soiled while they partook of their refreshments, but then at last they turned their attention to truly preparing me for a night of relentless feminization and mental, emotional, physical and sexual abuse. My ankles were untied, my legs released from the terrible broomstick, and then only the cock-rope held me bowed back. This was truly an agonizing state of affairs, and I was aware of little else but the pain in my genitals while the three young women proceeded to dry-shave my legs and groin quickly free of hair. Prickly nylon stockings of purest white were pulled up over the irritated skin, maddening, and then these were clipped to the garters and belt they arranged about my waist. White, cruelly tight high-heeled pumps were jammed onto my feet, and an incredibly confining girdle was laced up tightly about my mid-section.
While I gasped for breath and fought to think past the agonizing sensation of my sex organs being slowly ripped off, Jakki made my face up like worse kind of slut: heavy on the eye shadow, rouge, and lipstick. A white silk ribbon became a choker for my neck, and at last Gisele sprayed me liberally with her cheapest perfume. Then they all stepped back to have a look and a laugh, to do more drugs and revel in their handiwork.
For fifteen minutes I continued to squirm, whimpering at the pain in my groin, pleading abjectly with my eyes, while they extensively and hilariously ridiculed and critiqued my appearance and performance (so far) as their pathetic little torture slut. Then over more lines of blow the decision was made to mummify me with cellophane, immobilizing me and leaving only my head, groin and buttocks open to the air. These areas would then be free to receive the long night’s concentrated abuse, while the rest of me struggled in vain.
This process was carried out by first using strapping tape to bind my legs tightly together at the ankle, knee, and thigh. Then an entire foot-wide roll of ordinary household cellophane was wrapped tightly all about my legs from the pointed toes of my women’s shoes to just above the tops of my horribly scratchy stockings. More tape sealed up this sheath, and in a twinkling my legs had become one unit, itchy, cocooned, able to bend a little together but not budge at all independently. It was determined then that the current rope bindings restraining my arms, head and genitals were too cumbersome to be similarly cocooned, and these ropes were finally released. At last the relentless pressure on my neck and groin eased, and I sobbed unabashedly in relief.
The three girls jeered at me in disbelief (“Had enough all ready? Oh, Slut-boy, we’re just getting started on you!”) They proceeded to tighten the ropes about my chest and shoulders, then to retie my forearms crosswise behind my back in overlapping fashion. This made a much more compact package of my upper body. Another entire roll of cellophane was brought out, and wrapped around and around and around my arms and torso from belly to neck, encasing me completely.
Although now freed from the cruel cotton rope, my cock remained rigidly erect, this bizarre bondage turning me on so much that I was gasping and moaning continuously as they worked on me. Gisele took the tape again then, and after sealing my upper half thoroughly into its immobilizing cocoon, she wrapped a long, thin strip tightly about the base of my genitals, trapping them once again into pounding erection and making them jut out proudly, the only protuberance from my otherwise completely mummified cross-dressed body.
After a bit of debate they took me then, picking me up and carrying my helpless, tightly sheathed form over behind the couch, where they positioned me right in the center and bent me over the back of it. Head down, ass up high in the air, with my hard cock crushed against the wooden frame, I was left then to wait in painful, trembling suspense as they once again coked up, chugged beer, and began picking through the many tools and weapons that Gisele had gathered for this occasion.
There was a bullwhip, a long limber cane, a heavy wooden fraternity paddle, a hairbrush, a riding crop and at least a dozen fine leather belts, most of them mine. Before I knew it I was being assailed by all of these: one, two, or even three at a time, in never-ending succession. My bare ass went from clean and clear white skin to red and purple and then finally a terrible striped and mottled black and blue in a matter of minutes. Yet they surrounded me for what seemed like hours, strapping, paddling, whipping, beating and caning me, all at once or taking turns while the others recharged their buzz.
My sobbing and screaming was as extensive and continuous as this endless ass beating, and at last Gisele stuffed a pair of her soiled panties into my mouth, muffling my piteous complaint. Then these awesomely fit chicks carried on the vicious whipping like any old coke-inspired workout, until they were all flushed and panting and dripping with sweat.
Garments began to come off then, more beautiful skin and curves were revealed among my tormentors, but unfortunately no lovely bare breasts. And then finally my tenant Gisele, in a skimpy t-shirt and filmy panties, at last came back from her own small room sporting a big black strap-on dildo. She was in the process of harnessing it tightly about her tiny waist, where at a good two inches thick and ten inches long it looked ridiculously oversized on her. But in any case this act seemed a signal, and both Natalie and Jakki were also quick to set aside weapons, then produce and don their own fake but horribly life-like looking cocks.
Jakki had a huge, twelve-inch long flesh-colored member that fitted quite well on her own simple harness, looking imposing indeed. But it was beloved Natalie’s equipment that most caught my attention. Dropping her skirt, she opened her bag and dumped an incredible assortment of dildoes, vibrators and butt-plugs onto the couch. Right away she chose a pair of black latex hot pants, so skin-tight they might have been painted on. Once she stepped into these and pulled them up, the big black twelve-inch cock sticking right up and out from her pubis might have been an integral part of her. Beneath, I could see the crotch of the shorts had been cut away, giving my dream girl both a beautiful cunt and a giant cock to take me with, and finally I began to recover somewhat from the trauma of my beating. After all, much worse was clearly in store for my agonized, upthrust ass.
“Who goes first?’ asked Natalie, her blue eyes glittering with coked-out excitement. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving, big tits pushed up and swelling inside the minimal black lace bra she wore. Her nice white shirt and leather skirt lay cast aside on the bed, and she stroked and tugged at her long, thick, life-like member as though really enjoying the sensation of male masturbation. Gisele put down her straw, dusted off her nose and answered. “I do. It’s my home and my little Slut-boy housemate. I’m the one it approached about this occasion. I get to pop the cherry!”
“Oh, all right,” Natalie growled. “But that slut’s got two fuck-holes, and I call the other one. Jakki, it’s your turn to chop up lines. Do a few, roll a bunch of bombers, chug a beer, and then relieve one of us. We’ll rotate through until we’ve all had our fill of each of this sick little bitch’s slut-holes. If we ever get to that point!”
They all laughed at that, and as those big, hard, intimidating, larger-than-life erect black cocks approached me from in front and behind, I dared try to speak. “Please, my Mistresses.”
“Silence, Slut-boy!” Natalie shouted down at me. “Sluts do not use language! They communicate by grunts, groans, moans and cries!” Gisele was delayed a bit, lubing up her big black strap-on, and so it was actually Natalie who scored the first penetration. Moved to punish my impertinence, she knelt on the edge on the couch, grabbed my inverted face, and crammed her big black penis up into my helpless waiting suck-hole.
“I’ve got something you can do with your tongue and lips, you disgusting slut! Suck my mother-fucking cock! Gobble my crank like the perverted little faggot you are, Slut-boy!”
Unfortunately, despite this demand she didn’t give me much of a chance to demonstrate my technique at all. With my made-up face completely at her mercy, she just began fucking it, tipping my head far back on my neck and hammering her huge cock all the way up into my wide-open throat. I was so busy strangling and gagging on this invasion that I almost missed it when Gisele finally arrived behind my upthrust hips. But then her strong hands split my cheeks, and the cold hard knob of her well-greased dildo kissed my anus. Then, despite the fact that my legs were wrapped tightly together and my anal passage thus somewhat constricted, she pushed herself firmly forward and forced the first dick ever deep up into my tender, virgin boy-cunt.
Ah, what heaven. Already choking on Natalie’s huge member, feeling and watching her rubber clad pubis bash into my lips and nose with every merciless, deep-throated thrust, I almost swooned with the uncontainable pain, shame, and depraved excitement of having my deepest secret fantasy realized at last. Finally I was being butt-fucked, righteously butt-fucked, cored out open by a merciless female dominant that wanted only to hurt and degrade me! Somehow perceiving my unholy, incandescent arousal, Gisele began to mock me then as she built up her own hard rhythm, hammering down into me from above and behind while Natalie continued to thrust herself upward into my face.
“You love this, don’t you, bitch! Slut-boy! You love having me fuck your virgin little boy-cunt! Don’t you? Well, you won’t love it for long, you sick little pervert Slut-boy! I’ve only got myself halfway in! You just wait for rest of me!”
Gisele began to really fuck me then, spreading her legs, bracing herself, gripping my hips and slamming her ten-by-two inch cock into my ass until I was finally taking it all, every inch, feeling slender Gisele’s shapely crotch slapping against my terribly bruised and welted buttocks with the same fervor that Natalie’s bigger black rubber pubis bashed up into my face. Bent over the couch, trapped between the two, I willingly took every inch of both huge hard-ons simultaneously, until at last I learned to suppress the constant gag reflex. Then, despite Gisele’s warning, I truly found myself in slut heaven at last, feeling both long, hard, rough rubber cylinders stroke in and out and in and out and in and out of me in frenzied, almost mechanical syncopation.
Together the two beautiful women brutally raped me, until at last it was impatiently clamoring Jakki’s turn. She couldn’t wait to fuck my mouth, so Natalie moved obligingly around to have at my ass while Gisele went to partake of the old refreshments. In this non-stop, tag-team fashion they cycled around and around, two of them always violently dildo-fucking me while the third one coked back up, keeping the energy level climbing and the pain in my brutalized ass and throat always growing ever greater. After a while, fucking the slut became a kind of competition to them, with Gisele and Jakki constantly trying on different dildoes and techniques while Mistress Natalie concentrated on masterfully displaying her skill with that gleaming black fuck-tool built so beautifully into her tight rubber hot pants.
So relentless and inventive was this big butch bitch at gouging out my throat and rectum that at last, after hours of non-stop sodomy (and let’s not forget the face-fucking), the others finally declared her the Queen Bitch Slut-Fucker of the entire house. Then Jakki and Gisele stepped back a bit, cheering and applauding as Natalie gave one more outstanding encore performance alone: standing behind the couch, punching her big sable phallus so maniacally and pneumatically into my upthrust ass that I was once again screaming and weeping unabashedly at the extreme pain and shame of it all. Only when she at last climaxed yet again from the extremity of her brutal passions did Natalie at last pull her thick black penis all the way out of me.
“Whew! That’s what I call a serious slut-fucking! But you know, we haven’t even begun to torture its cock and balls yet. I mean, besides the way you had it tied up for us, Gisele. That was really great, top notch. Did you see the way it squirmed, when we took away the broomstick? Anyway, what do you say we lay it out on the coffee table now, face up? Then we can use our torture slut for a table while we party. With that evil penis sticking right up in front of us, I’m sure we’ll think of some interesting ways to abuse it.”
“I’m almost ready to take a leak,” suggested Jakki.
“No, no, hold it!” urged Natalie. “You know how it is with beer. As soon as you go once, the floodgates open. Let’s party some more, and all of us hold out as long as we can. Then we’ll find some really interesting way to turn our helpless little slut into a toilet!”
This was eagerly agreed to. Straightaway Natalie turned then, and located the largest butt-plug in her collection: a veritable dildo itself of over eight inches long. This fiendish device was nearly three inches thick in places, hard plastic and wickedly corrugated, and she forced it roughly, mercilessly, all the way down inside my now thoroughly stretched-out ass. Then she slapped several strips of the strong strapping tape over it, taping my butt-cheeks together from top to bottom and sealing that uncomfortable insult deep inside me. Finally I was picked up and dragged roughly off the couch. Easily the three young women manhandled me around, and shortly I found myself lying on my back on the big coffee table. The coke mirror rested on my belly, the bag of reefer in the hollow of my neck, and at last the three hard-working young ladies relaxed on the couch: drinking, snorting, and smoking away. Naturally my still un-gagged mouth begged to be used as an ashtray, and it wasn’t long before all three girls were holding thick, lit bomber joints.
Idly they began to burn me with them, pressing the glowing ends against my turgid, taped-up erection. For the entire time it took them to smoke all three cigar-size joints, snort another gram or so of coke and pound down two more Heinekens apiece, the girls cruelly tortured my captive sex organs this way. Dozens of circular burns sure to form painful blisters soon covered my prick and balls, and at the end, all three smoldering roaches were ground out against my sensitive head-bulb before being dropped into my screaming mouth for disposal.
By then none of the girls could hold out much longer, and they began to debate the least messy way (for them) to turn me into a communal human toilet. This disgusting prospect hadn’t been part of my original intention, and once again I dared to try to beg off.
The girls had enjoyed my screaming and pleading under my terrible penis-torture, but now they had no patience for this kind of weaselly wheedling. Gisele once again stuffed her soiled panties into my mouth, and then used an old silk scarf to tie them in. After that she grinned smugly down at me. “There. Now we’ll hear nothing else from Slut-boy for the rest of the night. Let’s go girls, I really gotta pee!” They dragged me off the table by my feet then, letting me thump painfully onto the floor. Then my traumatized ass scraped across the carpet as they dragged me into the bathroom. Natalie took one of the ropes from before, lashed it tightly about my ankles, and then tossed it up over the showerhead. All three girls pulled at once, and I was dragged into the shower stall by my bound feet and hoisted into the air.
They hung me upside-down in there, with my ass and back against the damp rear wall of the stall and just the back of my head and shoulders barely resting on the tiled floor. The drain lay just beyond my face, perfect for what they had in mind, and after tying my feet off, then ensuring my complete helplessness and inability to move by tightly roping my cocoon to the hot-and-cold handles, Natalie was once again the first to take full advantage of the limitless opportunity I’d so foolishly given them.
Still wearing the crotch-less dildo shorts, she stepped over me and squatted, splaying those long, strong, columnar legs out wide. For the first time ever, I had a clear, glorious, absolutely unobstructed view of her beautiful twat. Then Natalie’s hands went from caressing her big black hard-on to cupping her abdomen just above it, and she let out a long and exquisitely eloquent groan. Simultaneously she began to make water, spraying her body’s waste out in a forceful stream that splattered directly down into my waiting face.
Instantly my panties gag was soaked, the noxious urine permeating it completely and trickling through it into my mouth. Absolutely helpless, I could do nothing but hang upside-down there and swallow it, the blood pounding in my inverted head while Natalie pissed, pissed, pissed into my face and mouth. Soon my hair was soaked as well, and I could hear the excess trickling past my ears to puddle about my head and shoulders and then flow slowly down the drain.
“Yeah, Natalie! You go girl! All that beer! Piss all over that worthless slut!”
The others cheered her on, and when at last Natalie finished voiding, Gisele was quick to step into the stall and take her place. Again I was granted a brief, glorious view of heavenly territory forever forbidden to me, then again a hot, salty stream full of bitter, reeking ammonia came arcing down into my face, comprehensively defiling me.
Gisele squeezed her bladder with both hands, groaning while she gushed all over me, and the puddle I was in and the amount of urine I was forced to suck from the gag and swallow doubled. My painfully beautiful housemate laughed gaily at me as she at last finished trickling, and then Jakki stepped up and the entire process was repeated yet again. At last, when the call of nature had been temporarily satisfied, the girls looked around for ways to keep me suffering in there while they returned to my bedroom to continue the party.
It was agreed that much more voiding would have be done, and that I had arrived at my final resting place for the duration of the festivities: hanging cocooned head down in an ever-growing puddle of piss, a communal toilet for my lovely female superiors. In order to keep me occupied in their absence, Natalie turned on the water in the showerhead, but just barely. This caused it to drip-drip-drip relentlessly on my forehead, the dreaded and diabolical Chinese water torture. Then Gisele produced a big Victor rattrap.
With great hilarity the trap was carefully set. Then Gisele gingerly prodded the trigger against my already brutalized but still rigidly erect penis. The trap snapped shut on my taped dick with a force sufficient to break a finger, and I screamed in agony through my urine soaked gag. “Hooray! We’ve caught us a trouser rat!” Another, smaller mousetrap was snapped shut on my balls, and I writhed within my bonds in desperate excruciation. The girls had done their job too well, however, and even my most violent paroxysms proved insufficient to even move me out of the path of the dripping water, to say nothing of freeing my tortured genitals or allowing me to escape. No, this was a hell I’d bought and paid for, and the girls left me to enjoy it alone while they returned to their party.
For the next several hours I hung there then, listening to them party in the next room and both craving and dreading the next cycle in the endless progression of beer-bloated girls who stepped into the stall, squatted above me, and then forcefully pissed out all over my helpless face. The floodgates were indeed open; I must have been soiled at least a couple or even three dozen times. On each occasion, the girl coming in to smirk down at me, spread her legs and gigglingly use me as a human toilet was more and more wasted, and it was clear that they were having an absolutely fabulous time without me. Finally I began to hear moans, and the unmistakable sounds of them fucking each other, as they used their fingers and tongues, vibrators and strap-on dildoes with a shameless drugged abandon. Desperate moans, cries of passion, and utter shrieking orgasms tormented me for at least another hour then, as the orgiastic three-way going on not ten feet away kept the girls far too busy to bother with pissing on me. But finally, after a bit of pillow talk, all three gorgeous females trooped back into the bathroom, closer to naked than ever.
Gisele wore only her strap-on and skimpy white t-shirt, and the sight of her thimble-sized nipples poking through the threadbare fabric was maddening. Oh how I’d give anything to suckle on those! Oblivious, my sweet little housemate stepped up to be the first one to piss on me again. She smiled, did so extravagantly, and then Jakki followed.
She too denied me the sight of her unclothed breasts, wearing one of my own best dress shirts unbuttoned over her beautifully clear-skinned, bra-less torso. But as always it was Natalie who was most brazen. When she took her place above me in the stall, I was glorified and exalted to see that the dildo-equipped hot pants were all she wore. Her black bra was gone; her beautiful big boobs were utterly naked. The pebbly pink nipples were fully hard and erect and the fat, sloping globes delightfully peppered all over with those evocative orange freckles. She sneered contemptuously at the way I goggled at her, and when she suddenly let go she pissed deliberately straight into my impetuous eyes. Two minutes later, when her burning stream had at last petered out, and I’d finally blinked my teary gaze clear, I saw that she was not now moving to leave the stall, but only turning around and squatting down even lower. To my bottomless horror, I heard her talking, first to her friends and then to me.
“Watch this, you guys. I’m going to dung on its stupid ugly face.
“You want me, don’t you Slut-boy? You’ve always wanted me. You’ve always wanted to be the one to fuck me. I know. You think I’m totally hot. In fact, you’re helplessly in love with me. Aren’t you? Ha! Look at it nod! I knew it. Well, you know what, Slut-boy? This is what I think of you. This is my ultimate opinion of you as a man, a human being, and a potential boyfriend-husband-sex partner.” She lowered herself even further, splitting her most private secret middle as wide open as possible just above my helplessly immobile face. Shifting about, she gripped and spread her perfect cheeks, and suddenly I saw that beautiful pink hole of hers begin to open and grow a sinister brown finger. She grunted then, taking a deep breath and bearing down, and then she proceeded to push her steaming-hot shit right out into my immobilized face. Long, fat, hundred-degree feces slowly uncoiled themselves, dropping and plopping down all over my piss-soaked features in an ultimate insult. Most of them hit, slid, and tumbled off, and over the sound of Gisele and Jakki cheering and laughing hysterically, I heard Natalie curse me.
“Shit. Fucking Slut-boy! Here, give me that!”
From among the cleaning supplies, Gisele handed her friend a heavy rubber work glove. Natalie donned it, wiped herself, then used her protected hand to pick up the fallen turds and smear them deliberately all over my face. Across my forehead, all around my neck, cheeks, lips, chin, nose, even all over my septum, just below the nostrils where I’d be sure to smell it with every breath, she covered my entire face with a thick ‘beauty mask’ of her stinky brown shit.
“There. Now you know precisely how I feel about you, Slut-boy. Not even fit to eat my shit, that’s what you are! I can’t believe I ever let you suck my cunt!”
“Oh my god, look at its cock!” Jakki suddenly shrieked. “It’s so hard and pulsing, the rat trap just moved! Slut-boy loves this! Our stupid little fuck-hole loves having you wipe your stinky shit all over its face, and abysmally degrade it the whole damn time! Why, this is the best part of its whole fucking night”
“Of course it is!” sneered beautiful Gisele. “I told you it was a fucking pervert!” Then she laughed. “Oh, what the hell. One ejaculation was part of the deal.”
She stepped into the stall where I hung there, mummified, piss-soaked and liberally be-shitted. Quickly she removed the rattraps from my horribly wounded prick and balls, and even unwound the tight tape from about the base. Then, carefully pointing my madly pulsating and unprecedentedly erect (if dangerously burned and bruised) penis straight down at my shit-covered face, she gave it three quick, professional, (not to mention excruciating) jerks. That was all that was necessary. My incredibly explosive orgasm burst through me, making me shudder convulsively all over and spew out gobbet after gobbet after hot, spunky splatter of my obviously inferior semen.
Nearly every clot and drop of it hit me directly in the shit-face, furthering my already mind-boggling defilement, and all three girls ridiculed me mercilessly.
Incredible that I should ejaculate so quickly, that I should be experiencing such extreme sexual pleasure from the insane amounts of torture and humiliation they’d been subjecting me to! For nearly five minutes they rubbed my face in as much metaphorical shit as Natalie and my own gonads had already supplied. After that, in a mix of further degradation and rare compassion, Gisele forced me to empty my own bladder.
“That’s right, Slut-boy! You’ve already come in it, now I want you to piss in your own face! I’m going to clamp these raptraps back on you, see, and then we’re going to leave you hanging in here for the rest of this night and probably most of the next day. I don’t want your kidneys to back up, and make you seriously sick. How could we do this to you again next weekend, if you’re stuck in the fucking hospital?”
All three girls laughed uproariously at my look of startled fear, and Gisele continued.
“That’s right. We’re having such a good time tonight that I’ve decided that from now on, instead of me paying you rent, me and my friends are going to do this to you whenever we feel like it, probably at least once a week. So lucky you, Slut-boy! You’re going to graduate from being just my housemate to my permanent sugar daddy, and my round-the clock, cocksucking shit-eating slut-puppy!” She clapped her hands with derisive glee.
“Now I know you’re real excited about this, and we’ll allow you to toast the occasion appropriately later. Trust me. But right now, Slut-boy, I hate to tell you this, but we’re almost out of beer here – although we’ve still got plenty of this good green reefer left. So Natalie’s going to take your wallet, go out and get some more beer.”
“And coke, get more coke,” urged Jakki, stepping up with Gisele’s camera and leering before taking several quick snapshots of me hanging there upside down, bound from head to toe and ridiculously soiled in my cellophane cocoon.
“.get more beer and coke, and pick up our boyfriends. Then you can hang in here all night, listen to us have our incredible orgy right in your own bed, and wait for one of us – boys or girls! – to come in here now and then and piss all over your stupid face. I’m going to pull out those panties and shit in your mouth, too. I think you’re fit to eat my shit at least. Maybe even every time I have to go from now on. Anyway, at the very end of the party, after we’ve all come about a million times, Jakki and Natalie and I will come back in here and douche out our slimy, stinky pussies all over you, adding one last layer of spent, mingled man-spunk to your silly, soiled face. How’s that sound for excitement?!”
Gisele snickered at my look of utter terror and purest misery. She did her best to be both terrifying and reassuring. “Don’t worry, Slut-boy. Tomorrow afternoon or evening – depending when I wake up, after I have my first cup of coffee and cigarette and everything – I’ll need to shit and shower. I’ll piss and crap in your mouth again, then cut you down, unwrap, un-tape and untie you, take the rattraps off your dick and such, and let you loose to clean up the house in your stockings, panties, bra, high heels and shit-face. After that, for a little while, you can go back to being just Tom again. At least, until you heal up enough for our next big slut-fucking party!”
All three girls laughed richly at that, and then Gisele suddenly punched me hard in the bladder. Helplessly I voided, the hot urine once again spilling down into my face. They all laughed cruelly at me as I retched and sobbed and pissed all over myself, sneering contemptuously at my weakness and perversion. Once she was sure I was empty then, Gisele used her expert tricks (and my own twisted, innate compulsions) to jerk me back up into an impressive state of hardness. Then she once again snapped her wicked rattraps back onto my tortured genitals. Watching me sob and shake with agonized despair, she laughed evilly yet again, and spurned me with a tiny, deliciously sexy bare foot. Then she turned, walked out of the shit house and left me hanging there.
Just outside the door, Jakki kissed her, fondling her breast and slipping her the tongue salaciously. Natalie was already dressed again, jingling my car keys and rifling through my wallet. Three, four, five hundred dollars: the rest of my pay for this week. She waved the sheaf of bills excitedly, kissed both her friends, and headed for my car.
Gisele and Jakki began to make out. My horribly abused cock hurt like acid fire. My legs itched maddeningly. I was cold, soaked. Water kept dripping relentlessly on my forehead, driving me absolutely batshit. Two bare 75-watt light bulbs on the bathroom ceiling blazed relentlessly into my eyes. Closing them against the glare hardly helped at all. The girls were moaning in ecstasy again. Please, Natalie, hurry back!
Originally posted 2009-06-30 15:52:50.
Taylor sat at her desk reflecting on the way her life had changed since the
arrival of the new boss. Although work did not add up to the total sum of her
life, it still occupied a major part of it. To that end the new atmosphere at
work, one of overbearence and great pressure, was affecting her greatly.
Fred, the new boss, had arrived from the UK some months previously, to
replace Lee who had retired. Life under Lee, at the small real estate firm
in Nova Scotia, had been lively and pleasant. Taylor had worked a total of
five years for the firm, all but the last few with Lee as her boss. When
Fred first arrived, the contrast could not have been starker. Whereas Lee
was laid back, Fred was uptight and demanding. Where Lee had been full of
humour, Fred was very dour and aggressive in his manner.
Taylor, as well as the other staff, was made to work longer hours, with no
immediate improvement in pay or conditions. Ordinarily Taylor would have left
and found another job, but in the current economic climate there simply were
no other jobs. Having taken out a new mortgage and buying the car on HP just
before Fred arrived, she had no choice but to suffer the current conditions.
The condition had reached an intolerable stage after Fred had called her into
his office and demanded that she dressed more provocatively for the clients
and that she should also show more ‘affection’ towards him. Taylor was
dumbfounded, how could this be happening! When she complained to Fred that
she found this request unacceptable he simply informed her that it was not a
request, and that should she not agree she was always welcome to find
employment elsewhere. It was at that moment the Taylor decided to take
matters into her own hands to see if she could put an end to this intolerable
Taylor arrived in the office the very next morning a good hour before
everyone else. She had always been entrusted with the keys since Lee’s days
at the office and the situation had not yet changed under Fred. On this
particular day she was dressed, as she had been instructed to dress, in a
very sexy manner. She had on her highest pumps, being around 5’4″ tall she
always wore high heels to accentuate her height. On this day however, the
black patent pair she had on, had heels over 4″ in height. Her trim legs were
encased in very sheer, black, thigh high, stockings. If one followed the line
of her legs upwards, one would not reach the bottom of her skirt until ones
eyes were only 6″ from her waist. The skirt was black, very tight fitting,
and hugged every contour of her well-defined ass. She had chosen a medium
blue silk blouse, which highlighted her deep blue eyes. The top two buttons
were open to expose a view of her ample cleavage, encased very neatly in a
tight fitting black lace bra. Over the top of this ensemble, was a well-
tailored jacket matching her very short skirt. The make-up for today was
heavy, not sluttish, but strong in its effect. For example, heavy eyeliner to
strengthen her eyes and rich red lip gloss to embolden her full lips.
Although very sexy, the overall effect was that of a power dresser. She had
hated the idea of having to dress up for her clients and her ‘sexist pig’ of
a boss, but by dressing in a powerful but sexy way; she could still
demonstrate some defiance. She had never dressed this way before, and to her
surprise, she quite liked the feeling of sensuality and power, that the
clothes gave her.
On entering the main office Taylor went straight to Fred’s office, and to her
relief the lock on the door had not been changed. Obviously Fred did not
realise that the office keys that Taylor had, also opened his office. Once
inside she closed the door behind her and headed towards Fred’s desk. She
rummaged through some of the papers on top of the desk and then through the
draws, which fortunately had no locks. It was in one of these draws that she
discovered something that aroused her attention. There was a file marked
‘Langham Deal’ under all the other files. Langham was an area, some 5 miles
from the office, which was used as a waste disposal site. What would Fred
have a file on this site for she asked herself? It did not take her long to
find out. It appeared that Fred was striking a deal to sell the land to the
local county for the building of a school. It also appeared that Fred was
posing under a pseudonym as the owner of the property, and was going to leave
the country as soon as the money for the site was deposited into his bank
account. He would defraud the local county out of nearly half a million
dollars and by the time they would find out about it he would have left the
country. It had always intrigued Taylor why this Englishman would want to
come out to the wilds of a small Nova Scotia town, when he was obviously used
to the bright lights of London. Now she had her answer and, it occurred to
her, she had a lot more. For the first time in a couple of months a rich
smile was discernible on Taylor’s lips.
She had to wait a further hour before the rest of the office staff began to
arrive for work. That had given her plenty of time to photocopy the various
documents and to make sure no one would be aware of her presence in Fred’s
office earlier on that morning.
As the staff had arrived all them had commented on Taylor’s upbeat demeanour.
She simply replied that today was start of a new beginning for her. When the
others had asked what she meant, she explained that it was a feeling deep
inside that she felt was to vague to convey in words. This was not too far
from the truth; Taylor did indeed feel the happiest she had felt since Fred
had arrived, in fact she could not remember feeling this content. You see, a
plan had started to take shape in Taylor’s mind and the more she focused on
it the happier she became. Taylor also noticed that the thoughts going
through her mind were starting to arouse her sexually.
When Fred finally arrived at the office at around 10:00am, one hour after the
rest of the staff, he had that usual look of disdain and superiority on his
face. As he passed through the main office to his own he caught a glimpse of
Taylor looking right at him with a huge smile across her face. Fred chose to
ignore this but he found it a little disconcerting, all the same.
The day past much as usual at the office, nothing out of the ordinary
happened except for the fact the Taylor was very late back from her lunch
break. At the close of day, all the staff had left except for Fred who had
decided to go over a few of his new plan, just to confirm that all the
details we correct and that nothing could go wrong. How wrong he was going to
One hour after all the staff had gone, there was a knock on Fred’s office
door. This startled him somewhat as he had locked the main door when all the
others had left for home.
‘Who is it’, Fred enquired.
‘Only me’, came the candid reply, as Taylor let herself in and seated herself
on top of Fred’s desk.
Fred could smell the perfume that she had obviously just applied to her body.
He could also see that she had changed into something even sexier than that
which she had been wearing earlier. This time she wore a dress, as if going
to a gala of some kind. The dress was made of black, crushed, velvet that
encased her body from the top of her neck to just above her shoes. It gave
her added presence partly due to it’s halter neck design but also from the
split at the side which ran right the way up to her thigh. Fred could just
make out her to top of her sheer black stocking. The heels on black patent
stilettos were over four inches high, and added immensely to the impression
she wished to make. The same could be said for her make-up and hair. Gone
were the soft curls around her face, her hair was now pulled back into a
tight pony tail which sat on the top of her head. Her eyeliner was now much
heavier than before making her eyes them seem sterner and less yielding.
‘What are you doing here this time of night?’ Fred questioned, in a rather
He had been rather caught of guard by Taylor’s actions and the way she now
dressed. Although part of him still fancied the arse off of her and thought
of those deep red painted lips moving slowly and deliberately up and down his
‘I just thought we should have a little chat about your future’
‘About my future, what the bloody hell are you on about you daft bitch!’
‘Well, lets just say that from now on life, for you, is going to take a new
direction. You see, I’ve had a chance to think about where you future best
lies and how that rather cock-sure attitude, of yours, can best be adjusted.
I was in your office earlier today and happened to come across those
documents that referred to the Langhem Deal’.
At this, the blood left Fred’s face with a speed that surprised even Taylor.
‘It seems you have been a very ‘silly’ boy, and I intend to rectify the
She said these last few words in the tone of a mother admonishing a small
child. Taylor was in fact very excited now, she could see by the look on
Fred’s face that she had him by the balls.
‘What do you mean you intend to rectify the situation?’, enquired Fred in a
far more passive tone than before.
‘The documents, or rather copies of them, are in a safe place, and should
anything happen to me, they will be passed on to the appropriate authorities.
You are to come with me now, without asking any more questions and do exactly
what I say. Failure to do what I say will result in the documents being
handed out tonight to the police’.
She smiled sweetly at him and ran her hands slowly up her long legs making
sure Fred was watching every detail.
Fred went to open his mouth but just as he was about to say something Taylor
slapped him hard with all the force her arm could muster. The resulting sting
and red mark on Fred’s face caused him to stare back at Taylor in disbelief.
She thought that he might react at this point, and it was the most difficult
moment since their exchange had begun. She was proved wrong; Fred simply
resigned himself to the moment, to shocked to react. His mind was spinning
trying to find a way out of this situation. He would go along with her for
now and try to reason with her later. That was it, once both of them had had
a chance to settle down he would then reason with her and reach a positive
solution. Just then Taylor interrupted his thoughts.
‘Walk outside to my car and wait for me there, I will be out shortly’,
Fred did as he was bade and waited some ten minutes for Taylor to lock the
main office door and then join him at the car. Once there, Taylor told him to
get in and to put on the blindfold she had just produced from her bag. Once
in the car Taylor checked the Fred’s blindfold was on securely and then
started the ignition, driving Fred towards his new life.
Taylor drove around for about eighty minutes before reaching the destination
that was to be Fred’s new home. The house, a slightly dilapidated building,
had once belonged to an aunt of Taylor’s. It was situated some twenty minutes
drive from town, in a very inaccessible part of large woodland. Taylor had
deliberately driven around in circles for sixty minutes to ensure that Fred
would not only be confused as to the location, but to also make him believe
that the house was in a very remote part of the country, quite some distance
On pulling up outside the house Taylor surveyed the scene. There was no body
around, nobody ever came to this part of the woodland. The nearest neighbours
were over 4 miles away. She opened Fred’s door and motioned for him to follow
her by holding the underside of his arm firmly. Fred followed without making
a sound still believing that this would all be sorted out once Taylor settled
down, then he might be able to laugh about it at some point soon in the
Once inside the house, Taylor led Fred down some steps to the basement. Fred
was aware of a slightly old, dank, smell and realised that Taylor must be
guiding him into a basement. Once Fred had been taken fully into the chamber,
Taylor quickly left him and moved deftly to the top of the stairs. Once at
the top she secured the hatch door behind her. This was no easy task as the
door was made of steel and lead, and was, therefore, quite heavy. She next
passed through the cellar door, which again was hard to shut due to the fact
it was made of the same material and the hatch. She again, secured this door
as she had the other by placing a padlock through the steel latch. Taylor
then went back to her car.
It had been rather fortunate that her aunt had taken the precaution of having
a nuclear bunker installed into the basement of the house. The family had
been against the idea, on account of the expense, but Taylor’s aunt, ever the
pragmatist had insisted that it be built, and built thoroughly. Since her
aunt had died, there were no relatives living who remembered that the old
house had contained a nuclear bunker. Taylor had often thought it was a shame
that the old Colonial style house had been left to turn to ruin, there was
nothing Taylor could do, her had no money when she died and neither did
Taylor. At least now it would serve a purpose.
On the way back home she felt a growing sense of excitement which made her
whole body physically tinge. She felt her nipples erect against the lace of
her bra. The growing confidence that she felt within herself was now
manifesting itself in a sexual way. To put it frankly she had not felt this
horny in years. Having someone within her power, having a very strong hold
over them had simply been a way of exacting revenge. However, it was rapidly
turning into a sexual journey for Taylor. She did not understand it all, but
it was certainly an experience and sensation she did not want to lose.
Par 1 of 3
Ninety Minutes of F/m Corporal Punishment
I look at the clock.
You should have been here an hour ago.
Lord knows, I am not the patient sort.
Before you left this morning, you were given a sound spanking with my hand, a bit of a reminder of what to expect when you got home. You were just a bit too mouthy this morning.
Now, you’re late.
You know better.
I don’t care if it’s work, traffic, or an act of God, you know that when you’re in trouble, you’d better be home on time.
I look at the phone. It doesn’t ring.
I lay down on the couch, and take a nap.
When I get this upset, it’s better that I just sleep.
You knew not to be late tonight.
You open the door, and see me sleeping. You know that if I wasn’t
thoroughly ticked off, I wouldn’t be sleeping.
You almost hope that I will sleep all night, and forget that I promised you a *real* spanking.
Real, meaning tears, sobbing, apologies, and quiet time in the corner afterwards.
A spanking that’s going to leave you sore, sorry, and sitting uncomfortably tomorrow.
You aren’t looking forward to this, but you know that you deserve it.
Laying on the table beside the couch is only one implement.
You’d love to take that brush and hide it right now.
You know I’m not a sound sleeper, and you doubt whether I’m actually asleep.
You kneel down on the floor in front of me, and touch my forehead. You know that I will enjoy waking up, and seeing you on your knees.
I have no idea how long I’ve slept, so I turn and look at the clock.
Almost an hour and a half late.
I look at you, and you look down.
I’m sorry, Ma’am.
I take your chin, and lift your head, forcing you to look at me.
I am going to make you sorry.
You stand, and begin to disrobe.
I sit up.
You fold your clothes neatly, and lay them on the chair.
Your hands are at your side, but you feel like they should be protecting your bottom. Sometimes, you ache to be spanked by me. You do *like* being spanked. You know that you are not going to like this spanking.
You’re not aching right now.
When I punish you, its very real, and it hurts.
and I am going to punish you.
Oh how those words get to you.
You look at the brush laying on the table.
You hope that you’ll at least be able to feel my hand before I start with the brush.
I walk into the kitchen and come back with the timer.
You were what, about 90 minutes late?
We’re going to set the timer on 90 minutes, and when it rings, that will signal the end of your punishment.
You are not going to enjoy the next 90 minutes.
You look at the timer.
You look at the brush.
You look at me.
90 minutes seems like an eternity.
I set the timer.
I take your hand, pick up the brush and lead you to the back of the couch.
You really wish that you were over my lap.
I almost always take you over my lap first.
You know that you’re in trouble when you lay over the back of the couch.
I rest the brush on your bottom, and I wait.
Please spank me, Ma’am.
At least you answered quickly.
I swat you once, *hard* with the brush.
How many times should I spank you with the brush?
You have no idea how to answer this question.
You hesitate. I swat you harder.
As many times as you think I deserve, Ma’am.
Not a bad answer.
I’ll accept that.
In about two minutes, I give you 90 swats with the bathbrush. You’re having a horrible time staying in position, and it hurts.
Oh, does it hurt.
I don’t give you anything that resembles a warm-up.
I let you stand.
You want to rub your bottom.
You don’t dare.
Go to *your* room. Stand in the corner, and wait.
You look at me, but walk upstairs to the little boys room.
You know that I am upset, and that I’m not going to allow you into my< bedroom just yet.
I want you to wait, and worry.
I follow you upstairs, and I bring the timer with me.
You walk straight to the corner, and I go into the bathroom.
You wish you could hide.
90 minutes of spanking is more than you can take, and you worry about what else I could be planning.
I lay a wash cloth on the sink, and a unopened bar of soap.
I walk into my bedroom and set out a few implements.
I let you stand in the corner for a little while. The bathbrush was tough for you to take,and you have a lot more coming.
Your bottom needs a little bit of a break.
You know that I must be planning a severe spanking if I am allowing you to spend this much time in the corner.
I stick my head in your room, and tell you to come into the bathroom.
You walk out of the corner slowly.
Bathrooms terrify you.
You aren’t sure what to expect.
You’re almost relieved to just see soap.
You sit, and look down at the bathroom floor.
You aren’t a terrific fan of soap either, but figure that an enema might be worse.
I take your chin in my hand, and force you to look up at me.
Why are you in trouble right now?
Because I was late, Ma’am.
I slap you.
You weren’t expecting it.
No. Try again.
You wish you could look down, but I make you look right at me.
Because I was misbehaving this morning.
I was being smart, and mouthy.
I slap you again. Ma’am?
I’m sorry, Ma’am.
Tears are forming in your eyes.
Why were you so late tonight?
I couldn’t leave work, then I got stuck in traffic.
Ma’am? I slap you again.
And you didn’t call?
No, Ma’am. I didn’t.
Do I need to tell you that you should have called?
No, Ma’am. I’m sorry.
I slap you again.
I watch as tears start to stream down your cheeks.
You wonder how much time is left on that timer.
Too much, you’re certain.
90 minutes is a long time. Especially when I have not one, but two valid reasons to be punishing you.
I hand you the bar of soap.
You do so, slowly.
Your eyes are sad. You’re sorry already.
But I’m going to make sure you’re sorry, and that you’re feeling the effects of this spanking for a day or so.
You try to hand me the bar of soap when you are done.
I don’t take it.
Put it in your mouth.
You look at the soap. You think about resisting.
But you know how much trouble you would be in if you did.
I notice the hesitation. You’re going to be tied soon anyway.
You put the soap in your mouth.
I leave the bathroom.
The soap is going to stay there for a little while.
I open my closet, take out your wrist cuffs, and a lock.
I walk back into the bathroom, and take the soap out of your mouth.
I offer you a drink.
Are you going to behave?
You rinse your mouth out with water a few times, and I take your wrists. I
lock them behind your back.
You make a sound, almost like a whimper, as I lead you into my room.
I push you over the end of the bed.
You look up on the bed, and see a paddle, a crop, and a cane.
You close your eyes.
You don’t want caned.
and I know this.
I don’t really care what you want at this point.
I’m going to punish you until I’m satisfied that you are sorry, and until I know that you will be sore for awhile.
I walk back to my closet, and take out my blindfold, and a dildo.
I place the blindfold over your eyes, and the dildo in your mouth.
I position you so that I can paddle you, and give you a dozen *hard* swats.
You try hard to keep still, but it hurts. You feel like your bottom is on
fire. You start crying again, and wish that you could spit out that
I lay the paddle down. You hear the snap of the cap on the lubricant I like to use. You whimper. I love that sound.
I spread your legs *wide.*
I insert the plug, quickly.
You cry out.
It’s hard for you to keep your legs spread, and harder for you to keep the plug in. You want to push it out.
You know that’s the worst thing you could do right now.
I pick up the cane.
Of course, you can’t see what I pick up, and it’s not until that slicing
pain across the top of your thighs hits that you realize I am holding a
Tears flow freely.
One stripe is enough.
You breathe a sigh of relief, then remember that the only thing left on the bed is the crop.
I begin my assault on your inner thighs, and I start hard, with no pause between the swats.
You’re soon sobbing. Bawling. You want to force the dildo out of your mouth, so that crying is a bit easier. You know that you can’t.
You want this to end.
It hurts so much, you wish you were unconsicous, and would just wake up when its over.
I don’t let up right away.
I slow down and bit, and make my swats harder.
I drop the crop, and take you by the hand. I sit down at the head of the bed, and pull you over my lap.
I let you cry for a little while.
I am going to spank you till that timer goes off.
You can’t see, and you really have no idea how much time you have left.
I look at it…and it says just over 25 minutes.
I take the dildo out of your mouth. I want to hear your cries, unmuffled.
I want you to be sorry.
I want to hear those apologies.
I want you to feel as if you’ve been punished.
You just rest your head on the bed, and wait.
I start spanking you hard, with my hand.
Normally a feeling you love, my hand hurts too much.
You don’t stop crying.
I am sorry, Ma’am.
Ma’am, it hurts!
Please, Ma’am! I want it to stop!
I spank you until you’ve stopped apologizing. I’m no longer upset, or angry.
I spank you until your head rests quietly on the bed, tears flowing freely beneath the blindfold.
Your bottom is red, tender, blazing hot.
My hand’s a bit red, too.
Timer goes off.
You hardly hear it. You’re off in your own world.
I stop spanking you, and let you just lay across my lap and finish crying.
You don’t want to get up.
I am sorry.
I rub your back. I remove your plug, and your blindfold.
I leave your cuffs on. I want you to stay in my control for a while.
Your bottom is toasted. You’ll behave the rest of tonight, though you may be standing through dinner.
I’m not angry now.
But you’re sore.
And you suspect that you will be for a couple of days.
Originally posted 2013-03-30 06:06:26.
For all you people that think that I should have ran out of there pronto, you
don’t know the half of it. Instead of course I found myself on the couch
making out with Aeysha and feeling up her hot body, which was encased in
stylishly form fitting blue jeans and one of those tight black lycra shirts
that showed off her highset medium size breasts and flat abdomen. She was
aggressive in her kissing (everything Carmen was not), and I found myself
fighting for control of her hungry mouth. She ran her hands all over my body,
groping me as voraciously as I was groping her. I was getting extremely turned
on. This was going to be one hot, intense sex session.
“Yes baby. Take off your pants. Let me see that cock.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. As soon as I stripped down, she was on my
cock like a bitch in heat, sucking, fondling and then easily throating my 8
inches. It was wild. No girl had ever deepthroated me, and this girl was
doing it like a pro. I pride myself on having good stamina, but when this
bitch started fondling and lightly squeezing my balls with my cock lodged in
her tight throat, I was on the edge of cumming. She sensed this, stopped,
stood up and maneuvered herself behind me.
She cooed very nasty words into my ear and lifted my shirt clean off over my
head in one motion, leaving me entirely naked. I could feel her erect nipples
through her shirt rubbing against my back. She reached around with her arms
and grabbed my nipples and squeezed them both. I began to wonder how I allowed
myself to be stripped without doing the same to her. I was startled from these
daydreams when she slid her body down mine, grabbed my erect cock and stroked
it while pushing her tongue into my asshole. This girl was turning out to be
one nasty slut, driving me crazy with her hands and mouth at the same time.
Just as I was about to shoot, she stopped again. She grabbed my hair with
authority and pushed two fingers firmly into my ass before I knew what she was
“Hey what boy?”
“Jesus Aeysha stop it!”
“Listen to me fuckwad. If I take these fingers out of your ass, you go right
out the door now and your clothes go into the fireplace. Do you understand.”
“Do you want me to take my fingers out?
“Yes…I mean NO.”
“Good. Bitch. Have you ever been fucked by a girl?
“I’m not a virgin.”
“I didn’t ask that. I asked if you’ve ever been fucked by a girl. Like I’m
fucking you now.”
“Then you are a fucking virgin. I love little virgin bitchboys.”
(Continued … )
Originally posted 2009-03-17 12:48:29.
Straining against their leather and stainless steel prison, his balls, over full from days of torment, hang like ripe fruit. The testicle cage is a clever and relentless form of bondage…a leather-lined metal device that when locked in place is impossible to remove. First, around the base of the testicles squeezing them tightly. Then, up the middle, separating and further squeezing them, all topped off with a tiny padlock. A “D” ring hangs from the middle from which a much bigger padlock and heavy gauge chain are then attached. The whole assembly weighs several pounds and pulls down on his swollen, purple balls.
In the past, she has chained his balls to all sorts of things…pulled behind him and up his crack locked to the closet pole, forcing him to stand on his tip-toes…chained to his ankles or wrists… or locked to the pipes in the basement. Tonight, however, she has something else in mind. She removes from his ass the butt plug that has been in there for the past several hours. It is her largest one and has been working up to it all week. She then whispers her plan to him as he starts to sob and cry through the ball gag in his mouth.
She goes to the foot of the bed, a great big wooden antique from the Victorian era with stout posts at every corner capped by large wooden acorn shaped ornaments. She reaches under the bed and produces a large tub of lubricant and begins to coat the top of one of the bed posts with it. He sobs louder now and is also becoming erect thinking of what’s coming next.
She leads him to the foot of the bed. The bed post comes up to about his navel. She instructs him to sit on the top of the bed post until the huge wooden acorn is completely submerged in his ass. This is not easy as he must stand on his tip-toes to sit on top or the bed post. The wooden post is so big that the first few attempts results in him slipping off, but finally, after about ten minutes or so, she guides him down as the massive wooden “head” bottoms out and all his weight rests on the post deep inside him.
She then takes the free end of the chain hanging from his plum colored balls and pulls down firmly, looping it around the foot of the bed and locking it in place. Now, if he tries to rise up , his balls are yanked tight, preventing him from leaving his tormented position.
And so he stays… ball gag, posture collar, corset and arm binders, with his balls chained to the floor and a massive unmoving wooden bed post up his ass. She strokes his cock, masturbating him nearly to the point of release, only to stop again like countless times before.
Kissing the head of his cock, she tugs on his ball chain making him flinch. “Sleep tight sweety” she says as she turns off the lights and closes the door, locking it behind her.
Originally posted 2008-03-04 07:01:15.
I called ahead and told you how I wanted you when I got home from work. You’re to be naked, wearing your collar with the leash attached. You were a little confused by my tone – I was brusque with you. When you asked me what was up, I said “Just do it, Alan” almost in a snarl.
You hear my car pull up and you go to the door, as I told you to do. When I come in you look at me expectantly. I look you over, my eyes hard. I hand you my purse and coat and go sit in my armchair. You put the purse and coat away and come over to stand beside me. “Down” I say, pointing to the floor in front of me. You drop to your knees.
“Take off my shoes and rub my feet,” I order you, leaning back in the chair. You hurry to comply. While you are rubbing my feet, I tell you about my day. “I’ve just had the wildest day,” I tell you, “Phone ringing all day, problems all over the place, arguing with vendors… A completely frustrating day. I’m wound about as tight as I can get.”
“Anything I can do?” you ask.
A nasty smile plays over my lips. “I’m so glad you asked…”
I kiss you long and hard, pressing my body up against you, then strap the ballgag around your head and move over to the toy rack. There are spreader bars between your ankles and between your wrists, your arms held over your head by the rope over the rafter. I come back to where you are tied, suede whip in my hand. My face is grim, determined, my eyes seem to look through you.
I hold the whip up for you to hang on to for me while I gather my hair back into a ponytail. Your eyes get wide – I only do this when I’m serious. I take the whip from you and look at you… slowly walking around to stand behind you. You feel my head on your back – my cheek pressed against your shoulder, hands pressed to your sides. A few deep breaths and I move away.
The suede tails hit your buttocks. Noticeably harder than my usual warm-up stroke. I cover your back and bottom with strokes of the whip until they are warm and pink. My hand runs over your back, caressing the faint stripes.
I walk around and look at your face. Your eyes look at me, hungry and wondering. I stroke your face and go take the blindfold off the rack. I don’t want your heart right now, I want your body, and I can see your heart in your eyes.
You wince as the whip hits your chest. You’re not used to me flogging your front side – it has taken you by surprise. The whip covers the front of your body from your chest to your thighs, making you jump when it hits your tender nipples.
I leave you briefly to go back to the toy rack. When I come back to you, my hand wraps around your sack. I pull hard, biting your neck to hear you moan and feel you struggle. A second after I move away you feel the leather strap hitting your chest. I cover your body with slaps from the strap, red imprints appear on your fleshy parts where I’ve hit you hard.
When I get back from the next trip to the toy rack, you hear a swish in the air. I’ve only used the cane on you once before, and very lightly.
“I’m going to take the gag out,” I whisper in your ear. “Don’t talk. Don’t say a word. Understand?”
You nod, and I remove the gag. You stretch your jaw, but say nothing.
The cane strikes your buttocks and you gasp. It lands again, this time on your thighs.
I strike your legs and bottom, harder and harder until you cry out, then back off slightly and continue covering your bottom and thighs with welts from the cane.
We’ve both had enough.
I remove your blindfold, remove the bars and cuffs from your ankles and wrists. We sink to the thickly padded floor and curl up in each others arms, holding each other tight.
“Thank you….” I whisper.
Originally posted 2010-05-24 13:11:33.
I was awaken by the smell of freshly made coffee. The fair Quel silently put a cup on my bedside table.
“Good morning, Mistress.”
“Good morning Quel, how was your night?”
“Good, has the mail arrived?”
“Yes Mistress, the mail and the newspaper lies on the tray. But there was a gift which I couldn’t bring here Mistress”
“Oh, what kind of gift?”
“A slave, Mistress.”
“A slave? Is there a letter with the slave?”
“Yes Mistress, here…”
I read the letter:
“Elisabeth, I have decided to travel and to get rid of the things I can’t bring. I know you have had your eyes on Jamie and that’s why I give him to you. If you don’t want him, you can always sell him. I’ll call you later.
Don’t miss me too much, Sanna”
“Bring me my robe, and then bring in the slave Quel”
I put on the robe and sit up in the bed.
There is a knock on the door, and I say: “Come in”.
A young man enter the room and assumes a humble slave position.
“Welcome Jamie, do you know why you are here?” “Yes Mistress Elisabeth” “Good, then no lengthy explanations are needed. I recall that Sanna usually didn’t dress you the way you are dressed right now.”
I move to the edge of the bed and motion Jamie to approach me.
“Stand in front of me, slave. Now then, lets see if I want to keep you.”
With his hands on his back, legs somewhat apart, head held high but his eyes facing the floor, a young man now awaits my orders.
On his upper body he is wearing a jean waistcoat with a white T-shirt underneath.
I motion him to turn around.
The tight jeans reveals two round firm buttocks.
“Come closer, boy.”
I put my hand on one of his buttocks, I move the hand in between his legs and fells the front of his groin.
“It can’t be nice to be restrained, slave. It’s hot in here, undress.” “Yes Mistress.”
Jamie quickly catches a glance of Quel and then of me.
“I mean today, slave! Your hesitation has just earned you your first punishment, is that understood?”
He quickly lowers his glance and removes his waistcoat.
“We will take care of your punishment shortly, first you will undress.”
Jamie folds his waistcoat and then moves on to the T-shirt. His upper body is tanned and fit.
“Stop, come closer.”
I get up and put my hands on his breast. Caresses his stomach. I grab the right nipple, and pull it upwards in such a way that he has to stand on his toes, but not a sound escapes his lips.
“Very promising, continue.”
He removes the jeans and again assumes the humble slave position.
“Very good, slave. That’s the way I am used to see you. However, here only my word counts… and when I tell you to get undressed I mean everything!”
“Slave, your hesitation will only make your punishment worse.”
Blushing, he removes this two sizes too small string shorts and puts them on top of the jeans.
When he assumes the position he puts his hands in front of his groin.
“Jamie, hasn’t Sanna taught you that you shouldn’t hide anything from your Mistress?”
I slap his hands with my right hand.
“Keep these away, slave!”
“Quel, come here and give Jamie a hard on.”
Silently, Quel approaches Jamie and stands behind him with her arms around him. Steadily she starts to masturbate the cock. Once the cock is fully erected, she removes her hands. The cock stands firmly, although somewhat at an angle towards the stomach.
“Good, very good.”
I grab the erected cock firmly with my hand and lead him to the bathroom. At the door, I turn to Quel.
“Prepare for a punishment session in the bedroom.”
“Yes, Mistress”, Quel replies.
“First I will take a shower, and then I will make sure that you are completely clean.”
After the shower, I get an enema bag, a hose and a large nozzle from the bathroom closet. I attach the hose to the nozzle.
“Jamie, on your knees. Elbows on the floor, head down, and your butt high.”
Jamie assume the position. Meanwhile I fill the enema bag with soap and water and put it on a hanger. With a finger, I carefully open his anus.
“Did Sanna use to give you enemas, slave?”
“No Mistress, my first owner did it sometimes though.”
“Good, then you know what to expect.”
After lubicating the nozzle I slowly inserted it in Jamie’s anus.
“Today I’ll give you the enema, but in the future you will have to ask some of the other slaves to help you. In order to keep nice and clean slave, you need to take an enema at least every other day.
Somewhat troubled, Jamie reply:
I opened the valve and let the enema flow, filling the slave. With one hand I touched his stomach to feel the flow. Once the enema bag was empty, I removed the nozzle.
“Now I want you to keep the enema inside you for a while in order to give soap some time to have an effect.”
Soothingly I caress his back, and when he is about to give up I motion him to the toilet to relieve himself. Blushing, he does what he is told, and meanwhile he gives up sigh of relief. Smiling I give him a look of encouragement.
“Wipe yourself dry and assume the position again, slave.”
I repeat the procedure two times more before I tell him to hit the shower. I observe him while he showers, and when I decided that he was clean we return to the bedroom.
Quel has placed a chair in the middle of the floor. On the table she has put a number of different whips, a wide leather belt, a paddle, a large hairbrush, and a bowl with small weights and clips.
I see that Jamie glances toward the table. I place myself on the chair.
“Well Jamie, lie across my lap.”
After some adjustment I sit still for a while. I caress his buttocks, making them redish.
I say to Jamie:
“It is important to prepare the buttocks, preferably with some hand slapping. In this way the other instruments will have a better effect which results in better learning by the slave.”
Jamie lies silent, he breathe heavily, and waits.
I move my hand to his groin and is delighted to find that he once again has a hard on.
“For hesitation while undressing you will receive 12 lashes with the small riding crop. For questioning a direct order, you’ll get 4 lashes with the bamboo cane. For warming up, I’ll start with 30 slaps with my hand followed by 30 strokes with the hairbrush. You will then have a short break, during which you will stand in the corner. Then you will get the lashes with the riding crop. A new break in the corner, and finally the caning. Have you understood?”
Without further delay, I start with the slapping. Two fast slaps on each buttock. I pause to let the pain have effect in the mind of the slave. I continue with the slapping at an even pace. At the 15th stroke he starts moving.
“Quel, grab the slave’s feet.”
Quel quickly obeys and I continue. Jamie starts moaning after each stroke. I distribute the strokes evenly over his buttocks which now begins to change color from pink to red. At the 30th stroke he moans unstopable.
“Quel, give me the hairbrush.”
I take the hairbrush and caresses Jamie’s back while I split my legs. Jamie’s cock now hangs freely between my legs.
“Quel, lie under the chair and blow him while I finish the first part of the punishment. Jamie, you better make sure that you don’t come. That would be unwise.”
Both reply in one voice:
The hairbrush made some parts of the buttocks change color from red to purple. Jamie had stopped moaning, he was crying now. The crying eventually passed into sobbing. I tell Quel to move away while I help Jamie to stand up. I embrace him.
“There, there… cry it out. It is OK, Jamie.
After a while, Jamie has calmed down and a gently place him in the corner.
I crawl up in bed, lean against the wall with my legs wide apart. Quel crawls after and places her head in between my legs aware of what I want her to do. Her tounge swiftly moves over my clitoris while a finger caresses my inner labia. I press her head against my cunt and she nibbles on my clit. Then she inserts two fingers in my vagina and carefully finger fuck me. My breahing is heavy, my body shakes. When Quel realizes what is about to happen she increases the pace with the fingers, she opens her mouth and puts it against my cunt. As I come, she eagerly swallows my juices, wasting nothing. Exhausted I relax.
Quel gets some warm water, a cloth, and some soap and starts washing me. I look toward Jamie and admire my work. He looks really handsome despite his sobbing posture.
After some rest, a change of clothes, and a cup of coffee I felt like it was about time to start with the punishment.
“Jamie, come here.”
With his head down he slowly appoaches me. About his wrists I attach a pair of handcuffs. The cuffs are attached to a long chain.
“Quel, take the chair and fasten the chain to the hook in the ceiling.
When securely fastened to the ceiling I took a leg spreader and put it between his ankles.
“Jamie, it is OK to scream and cry. It helps you to get rid of stress and it teaches you that stupidity has a consequence here.”
“Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress.”
I then took the riding crop… aimed at the region where the legs meet the buttocks. Took a step back and started lashing him. After the first stroke, Jamie gave up a howling sound. Jamie was really pulling the chain. Fortunately, the hook was securely fastened to the ceiling. Otherwise it probably would have come out from the strain.
After 6 lashes, his buttocks was striped as a zebra. The remaining 6 lashes was placed at an angle from the first 6, thus providing an nice cross wise pattern. After the last lash, Jamie had turned into a crying, snuffeling, pleading slave.
I noticed that Quel started getting excited and in need of some attention. I therefore tell her to unhook Jamie from the ceiling. I tell Jamie to lie down on the bed. Still wearing the leg spreader, this position makes Jamie’s anus very accessible once he leans forward. His body is trembling and he begs:
“Please Mistress, no more…”
“Jamie, I decide when you have had enough. You have put yourself in this position and I expect you to thankfully receive the punishment you have earned.”
“Yes Mistress. Thank you Mistress, but I am in such pain…” sob.
“Well, that’s the point with punishments slave… You won’t get the last lashes right now, Quel will enjoy herself first.” “Quel, put on the double dildo.”
Quel inserts one end of the dildo in her vagina, the other end pointing straight out. Anxiously she glances at me.
“Quel, please fuck Jamie. Mastubate him meanwhile, and make sure you both come at the same time.”
When Quel, after some effort and a lot of moaning from Jamie, finally had inserted the dildo in Jamie’s anus I picked up a long riding crop and started whiping Quel’s butttocks at the same pace as she was fucking Jamie. When Jamie had shot a large load of cum in my bed and Quel was resting on top of Jamie. I lighted a cigarette and sat down to study them.
“Quel, set Jamie free and hit the shower, both of you.”
As I looked at the watch, I realized that this nice session had taken all morning. I better finish it before lunch, I thought to myself. You’ll never know how the rest of the day will turn out, but I doubt it will be boring.
The slaves returned to the room after the shower.
“Jamie, assume the position you had when you were fucked. Let’s finish the punishment and then we can eat lunch.
Once again he was standing with his head facing the bed and his buttocks high.
I grabbed the bamboo cane which was a little thicker than a finger.
“I want you to count the lashes out loud, Jamie. If you miss a lash it won’t count, understood?”
I raise the cane, aim and strike. A white stripe immediately appears, quickly changing to red.
The fourth, and final lash I put some power into. Unfortunately, it hits one of the earlier stripes. Jamie yells, but somehow manages to produce the fourth count.
I embrace him and ask him to lie down on the bed.
“No. please Mistress. No more..” he says sobbing.
“Relax Jamie, I am just going to apply some soothing ointment. You’ll feel better afterwards.”
“Thank you Mistress.”
Originally posted 2012-06-16 12:28:10.
She bent him over it and attached his cuffs. She quietly said, “That was very good, I am pleased.” Then she went to the wall to choose her instrument. Without the blindfold, he had a chance to look around the room. To try and guess who his tormentors were. There were a number of people dressed, and many naked – both men and women. Most looked as if they were having a good time, interested in what they were watching.
She came back now, in her hand was a small rectangular wooden paddle. He was glad it wasn’t the Ping-Pong paddle. He remembered that, and the memory wasn’t pleasant. This looked a lot like his mothers hairbrush. He smiled, this shouldn’t be too bad.
She leaned over him and reminded him of his safewords, something that he had totally forgotten when he was being tickle-tortured earlier. He assured her that he remembered them.
“OK, how many was it to be?” she asked loudly?
“Good, you will count them and thank me, then ask for another. Now remember punishment spankings are supposed to hurt. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he replied with only a moment of hesitation. He heard her walk around behind him and it started. The first blow landed and stung more than he had imagined, but he managed to count it out loud and to thank her. Asking for another was more difficult than he had imagined. By the time they were at 10, she had steadily increased the intensity of the swats and it was as much as he could do to not scream each time the paddle landed. He would choke out the count, thank her and then try to gather his courage to ask for another. By 15, he was openly crying and the color of his ass was a flaming red. By 18, he was sobbing and begging her for mercy. By 19 he needed to be reminded to count or there would be extra strokes assigned. He managed to thank her for the last stroke before he wrapped himself in his misery and sobbed from the pain.
Then she was holding him and he sobbed out his apologies for disobeying her. She told him that he had taken his punishment well and that she was proud of him. She dried his eyes and wiped his nose. He realized he must look terrible. When his eyes could focus again, he realized a young man, about his age, maybe a bit older, wearing only a leather collar around his neck was kneeling next to her. She left to dispose of the tissues after giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“Feeling better? I hate that paddle, it stings more than just about anything. She looks like she packs quite a wallop. I am Brad, by the way”
“Yes, thanks. I always look at what she chooses and think, that little thing, well, that won’t hurt. I have to quit thinking that. I am not going to be able sit down for a week!”
“You will probably bruise as well. At least she didn’t use the tawse, that one always raises welts AND bruises on me.” And with that thought the young man gave a quiet sigh. “But then I try very hard to never do anything that warrants that. But occasionally Master is in the mood. She asked me to set you up for the next part, I will be blindfolding and gagging you.”
The look of horror on his face must have be striking since the boy chuckled and said, “no, it won’t be bad. You have had your punishment and they always like to finish the new ones on a good note.” With that, he put the blindfold back on and then fitted him with a small ball gag, not big enough to stretch his mouth out of shape, just to fill it. He felt his wrist and ankle cuffs being retightened, he had obviously moved enough to introduce a bit of slack in his restraints.
She had returned and was stroking him, soothing him.
“OK Brad, he is all yours.”
Then he felt soft hands on his ass, soothing the burning, then butterfly kisses across both cheeks. He began screaming “No! No Stop!” but because of the gag nothing intelligent came out. He struggled but he had been tightened down well.
“Shh, he is being rewarded for helping you be a good boy, he isn’t going to do anything I haven’t already done.”
He felt someone move into position under him and begin licking the shaft of his cock, fondling him, playing with his balls. He had been wanting that all evening. But not this way, not by another guy. He wanted to shrink up inside of himself, to make it harder for Brad to even find his cock, but as in so many cases before, his body betrayed him. He felt himself responding to the gentle touches and kisses and become hard. He felt himself encased in a condom, and then he finally got what he had wished for earlier, the mouth took all of him. His protests finally quieted and he began to whimper, for Brad was very good at what he was doing.
He found himself trying to push himself forward, but it was impossible, restrained as he was. The mouth and tongue began to tease him, soon he was moaning in frustration as he was brought to the edge and then abandoned. Too soon, he felt the warmth of the mouth and tongue leaving him. He whimpered piteously. Then he felt the coolness between his cheeks. The whimpering increased, he was begging her not to do this, not to take him in public like this. Soon fingers were invading him, then his body betrayed him again. He felt the invader pressed against him, and he wanted it, he wanted it filling him. He pushed backwards. This time it was larger, but slowly he took it. There were the occasional twitches of discomfort as he stretched to accommodate him, but they were minor and there was no pain. Then the stroking began. This time it was more gentle than when she took him, but also more insistent and there was no stroking hands on his cock for his pleasure. He didn’t care. The sensation was intense. Their thighs slapped together then he heard the urgent, “Master, may I cum!?”
She whispered, “You may as well.”
Then with a couple of hard, deep thrusts he felt Brad twitching and pulsing inside of him and he came as well spurting again and again until he knew he had no more to give. He vaguely felt someone leaning across his back as they struggled to catch their breath. He felt quiet tears running down his cheeks. He had been publicly raped by another guy and he had enjoyed it. That was the very worst part, he had enjoyed it!
“Did my pet enjoy that? You see my dear, it doesn’t really matter who is doing the taking, you want it and enjoy it just the same. And really, it doesn’t matter that you enjoy it, for I enjoyed watching him take you. And you are here for my enjoyment, not yours.”
“Brad, when you are recovered, release him and you may both clean up. Fit him with a harness and the large plug, he should be big enough for that one to only stretch him a bit. We need to start getting him ready for your Master. Pet, come and sit next to me when you are clean.”
Originally posted 2010-12-01 14:48:02.
Enslaved Sissy Husband Cuckold Forced Fellatio
I am caught in a trap partially of my own making: caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, as it were, ensnared by my need to serve and submit totally to a woman and torn between that desire and the horrible, sickening realization that my wife is sleeping with another man and I am helpless to stop it.
My mind is awash in conflicting thoughts and emotions. Arousal at the thought of being so utterly dominated, that weak-kneed feeling of being owned for real, playing no longer. The natural feelings of jealousy and hurt, the sheer envy of the man that he can be a man for her when to me it is no longer even an option.
It wasn’t always thus. For years my wife Lindsay and I had played with BDSM, but play is all it had seemed to be. We’d ‘pretend’ to be Mistress and slave about once a month, usually ending the scene with normal, vanilla lovemaking. And although it was fun and enjoyable I wanted more.
Be careful what you wish for, because you just may get it.
I suppose I had set myself up for what was to come, that one Friday afternoon. Lindsay hadn’t even been gone five minutes on her shopping trip before I was into the clothing, the makeup, the magazines. My..needs are like a hunger in me, that I’ve had since earliest childhood. And once a month, pretending to be a slave, feeling like I’m topping from the bottom, was nowhere near enough.
The black satin bikini panties and matching bra felt heavenly on my skin, like a soft caress, but it also felt wrong, alien on my hairy and masculine body. Even when I am fully dressed and made up I know in my mind that I’m not exactly Pamela Anderson. I’m a tall, 6’4″ built man, in my forties, with a beer gut and body hair in all sorts of interesting places. But that doesn’t matter to the fantasy, does it? In my fantasies I’m not big and awkward, hairy and laughable in women’s clothing, I become as if by magic a graceful, willowy, androgynous man, all sleek and smooth and pretty. I was lost in that fantasy, touching myself through the panties, lipstick on my lips, domination magazine close at hand when a calm and soft voice started me from my daydream.
“Once a month isn’t good enough for you, is it? You want this to be real.” Lindsay said, walking into the room and putting the shopping bags aside. I must have been a sight, eyes bulging, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. I hadn’t expected her home for hours. She smiled at my surprise.
“I..can explain ,,, ” I stammered.
“No need, mon cheri, I’ve been kind of suspecting this for a while. And planned accordingly. I meant to surprise you today.
“You want this to be real, don’t you? To stop playing a game and to truly be my slave Admit it.” She ordered.
I could only stare at her feet and mumble out the side of my mouth. “Yes”
“Yes Mistress. I want to be your slave.”
“And you’ll do everything I ask of you from now on? Without complaint or hesitation?”
The room felt electric. A line was being drawn here, a clear dividing line in our relationship. Beyond that line was the dark of the unknown. I felt a shiver of both fear and excitement go up and down my spine. Things would never be the same again.
I sank down to my knees at her feet. “Yes Mistress I will obey you utterly.”
She ran a hand through my hair, stroking it tenderly. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Things changed. No longer did we divide chores equally: I was now expected to serve as a maid and wait on her hand and foot. Which gave her cause to use the riding crop on me on many occasions, as my cooking and cleaning skills were very lacking in the beginning. I was kept smooth all over, shaving and waxing, fighting the body hair war nearly every day to its usual stalemate. My male undergarments were given away to Goodwill, all but one pair kept under lock and key for any doctor’s visits I might have.
Sex had changed. I was forbidden the use of my cock, for the most part, having to serve my Mistress as if I were female, with my mouth, my hands, with toys. Things had totally reversed-now it was vanilla sex that was the once a month treat, allowed that glorious privilege of making love to her. And as soon as we were both sated I’d have to go back on my knees again.
Whenever we were alone and at home I was kept collared and leashed, nude or in female clothing. My wardrobe expanded almost every week, it seemed. Mistress took great delight in making her new ‘slavegirl’ look as pretty as possible, and made me model outfits like it was a fashion show. I wasn’t Kim any more at home-I was Kimberly, and as weeks grew into months it seemed like I would stay that way. I’d dress normally, on the outside at any rate, in the mornings to go to work and immediately upon coming home turn back into Lindsay’s slavegirl.
It wasn’t like the fiction I had read at all. In the stories in the magazines and on the Net I’d read about cruel and hateful wives and Mistresses, who rule their men with contempt and almost a hatred between the lines. Arousing, yes, but mean-spirited. If anything like some of those stories happened in real life, the couples involved were on a one-way ticket to be Jerry Springer guests. Not so with Lindsay Yes, she trained me. Yes, she punished me, sometimes whipping or spanking me until I cried. Yes, she could be cruel if it suited her. But I was never allowed one moment to think that I was unloved or unwanted as a husband and slave, and I think it was that gentleness that enslaved me the most. I’d find myself wanting to do anything, endure any punishment, suffer whatever she wished just so I could see her smile and know she was proud of her slave.
All of this came under one proviso: that if I ever used my safeword, it was over. We would go back to being normal husband and wife and I would know that I had failed her as a slave for all time. I would have to face the fact that I couldn’t follow through on the fantasies in reality.
But until one, fateful night, that had never been put to the test.
I was kneeling at her feet in my pink maid’s uniform as she was sitting on a stool before the vanity mirror, making herself up. She was dressed to kill, in a black, short, tight mini-skirt, a red, silk low-cut top and black stockings. She finished applying makeup, smiled down at me, and liberally sprayed her neck and arms with my favorite perfume. Then, lifting her skirt, she applied it to her thighs and crotch.
She got up and sat on the bed. “Here, be useful, you can take the curlers out of my hair.” As I was removing them she crossed her legs slowly. I could hear the sound of stocking against stocking. She knew the sound of nylon against nylon, the smell of the perfume, and the sight of her gorgeous legs would drive me crazy. My hands trembled.
After the curlers were removed, I was allowed to brush her long dark hair. As I brushed, she spoke to me, softly, gently.
“Do you know what I’m doing tonight, Kimberly?”
“I’m going out to be with a real man.”
I can’t describe the feeling that ran through me. The bottom of my world had dropped to the floor with my stomach. I felt hurt. I felt angry. And I felt deeply excited. The ultimate humiliation to have my wife fucking and sucking another man.
Pain must have been the dominant emotion however, because she took my chin and forced me to look at her. “Don’t look like that. You must have known that this would have to happen eventually. I have needs, too. And as much as I’ve loved having little Kimberly service meuits not the same as being fucked by a man, and you know it.”
I gulped. “I could make love to you more often, if you allow me to..” I began.
“What, and lose my new girlfriend? NouI much prefer you this way. Soft and sexy, meek and obeident, wrapped around my little finger. Every time you use that cock of yours I lose about a week’s worth of training in you. So no, once a month is our limit to be ‘normal’.”
She looked into my eyes. “Kim this doesn’t mean I don’t love you, I do. That hasn’t changed in all the time we’ve been together. No one else will ever take your place in my heart, and you’ve got to believe that, and trust me, or you can take that collar and that uniform off right now and forget about Kimberly entirely. We might go kinky once a month again after that, but I doubt it. I’ve gotten quite used to having you as my slave, and it’s either all the way, or no way. So which is it?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I felt so confused…torn between my desires and my heart. And I couldn’t believe my own mouth as a timid, quiet voice spoke. “I want to stay as your slave, Mistress”
She hugged me close and dried my tears, soothing me. “There there, that’s a good girl. I knew you would. This isn’t going to be as bad as you fear. I love you. Just trust me you hear me? Trust me. This is the first real test of your submission to me, and I want you to pass it with flying colors. You have to get it into your head that you are a possession now. My possession. Something to be used as I see fit on my terms. This isn’t a game anymore.”
I heard her, but everything felt like it was happening to someone else. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening. “Yes Mistress.”
After she was gone, I tried to bury my feelings carrying out the orders she left me. I cleaned the house spotless, practically attacking the kitchen floor with a mop in my frustrations. I tried making myself believe that this was all a trick-that she wasn’t out with someone else, that she was out somewhere, alone, chuckling quietly at pulling one over on me. She really wouldn’t break our vows, would she?
As it got later and later that lie I told to myself seemed less and less convincing. Some of the orders I was given didn’t help either. ‘Clean two of our best wineglasses and have them ready on the table with a chilled bottle of wine.’ ‘Set candles about the bedroom, living room, and around the tub in the bathroom.’ ‘Set up the spare bedroom for you to sleep tonight.’
At midnight she called. From the background noise, it sounded like she was in some kind of bar or nightclub. “Light the candles, freshen up your makeup, and put on a fresh uniform if you’re all dirty from cleaning. We’re coming home and you better answer the door, Kimberly.”
My heart was in my throat. “I can’t! Not like this!”
She hung up.
The next half hour was hell on my nerves. I obeyed her instructions to the letter and knelt by the door in the dark, shaking like a leaf.
I heard the car pull in the drive. No two cars. Oh my God.
I wanted to run and hide, to bolt like a rabbit, my heart pounding and heavy. But I rose, slowly and painfully in my heels, cheeks blushing red and waiting the inevitable.
The doorbell rang, and, more frightened than I had ever been in my entire life, I opened it.
There was my wife, my Mistress, smiling, in the arms of another man. He was shorter than I was, slender and handsome, definitely younger. It was a bizarre twist of life-he could’ve made a more convincing woman than I ever could!
Lindsay smiled wickedly. “Vin, this is Kimberly, my maid, slave, and property who I’ve told you so much about. Kimberly, this is Vin but you will call him Master.”
My jaw could have hit the floor. It was all I could do to curtsey, but with that one curtsey everything changed in my life forever. I had submitted totally, and accepted it, even if it would be some time before I could come to terms with it. Lindsay’s triumphant smile told me that she knew it too, that the line had been crossed and that now I truly was her slave and plaything. I was her possession.
Things could have gotten ugly right then and there if the guy had been an asshole, or like one of those macho types in forced fem fiction that slap the other guy around with contempt and amusement. To tell the truth, that’s what I had expected and feared I cringed when he reached out to me, expecting a slap on the face and derision.
But all he did was stroke my cheek, very gently, and whisper “Such a pretty girl..I’m glad to meet you, Kimberly.”
That kindness melted me. I knew I looked ridiculous, there in my pink maid’s uniform, cowering before my wife in the arms of another man. But he didn’t laugh or look at me with scorn, only a warm amusement.
Lindsay laughed softly. “I think she likes you Vin, she responded to your touch like a real slut. I think you’re going to be bring out her true colors, sure enough.”
She shut the door behind them and addressed me. “Fetch the drinks and serve us in the living room, slavegirl.”
I obeyed without even thinking about it, and soon found myself kneeling at their feet while they sipped wine and nuzzled. As she slipped a hand down Vin’s pants she spoke to me.
“I’m afraid I lied to you a little earlier, Kimberly I gave you the impression that I was going out to pick up a stranger. But that couldn’t have been father from the truth. I’ve been getting to know Vin for some time now.”
I must have winced, or shown some sign of pain at that. So she’s been unfaithful to me all along?
She could read my mind. “Oh, don’t start. It wasn’t like that-we haven’t touched each other until now. I met Vin over the Net, on one of those web sites you look at when you think I’m not paying attention. Something-trap or other, its been a while. Anyway, I needed to see that you would submit and go along with it first, so give me some credit, eh? And now that you’ve surrendered to me, and you two seem to get along so well, that the time has come to make things more interesting.
“Take his shoes off then undress him from the waist down. Now.”
My hands shook, the duality of my nature screaming at me from both sides. One side was that this was natural, as a slave, I was technically sexless in orientation, and should be able to serve both men and women equally. The other side was that everything in my upbringing and culture had ingrained inside me, that this was wrong, this was alien, this was sinful.
Sinful or not the warm thrill of submission as I began undressing him, forced to be this intimate with another male was beyond belief. The trembling soon eased and I found myself on my knees, facing his cock, my wife’s hand stroking and toying with it.
She smiled down at me. “Ask Vin if you can suck his cock.”
I had a feeling this was coming but it was still a bit of a shock. With that sense of unreality creeping over me I asked in a soft and unconvincing voice. “May I suck your cock?”
Her look of disapproval was as good as a slap. “I don’t think you were polite enough, and I don’t think you meant it. Mark my words, slut, before this night is through, you WILL mean it. I want you to beg for it. I want you to beg so much that I see tears.”
I cringed and tried again. “Please Sir, may I please suck your cock?”
Vin ran a hand absently through my hair. “Better, but I’m still not convinced. Stand over there and watch us. Play with yourself, but you better NOT come, got it?”
One look at Lindsay told me that I had better obey this man’s orders as if they had come straight from her. A new wave of embarrassment, submission and humiliation flooded me as I got up and stood in the corner, obeying him. I began to touch and caress my little traitor, who was erect through my panties and telling all the world that I was turned on by being made a cuckold.
Lindsay bent over and began kissing and licking his cock, eyes locked on meuoh god those eyes. Beautiful and dark, flashing with arousal at her triumph and my obedience, I could refuse those eyes nothing.
Vin lifted her skirt and was kissing her crotch through her silk black teddy. It was only seconds before it was unsnapped and her pantyhose was down. They moved around into a sixty-nine position and went at it, pleasuring each other while I watched helplessly. It seemed to last forever.
A little voice kept going over and over in my head: “This isn’t happening, Kim, this is happening to someone else.” But the voice’s words of reassurance were hollow compared to the sight before me, and its accompanying soundtrack of moaning and groaning.
Every once in a while Lindsay would pause and make comments to me. “Having a good time playing with yourself, girl?” “Wouldn’t you like a taste of this delicious cock? All girls love cock..aren’t you my good girl?” “Don’t you want to be my good slut and suck his cock, or take it up the ass? I know you want to you want to please Me and your new Master..”
The words and themes were repetitive, slamming home each time. Oh, she knew my buttons all right. She would condition me with her words, turn my every fetish into a weapon to use as she saw fit. This wasn’t topping from the bottom any longer, this was true slavery. And as her words rang in my ears I found the self of me that I called Kim slipping away to nothingness, replaced by a new persona: Kimberly, the slutty little slave-girl and maid, who would forever be at the feet of her Mistress and Master.
Eventually things got too hot for them, and they moved into the final act. I was ordered by my Goddess to position myself closely behind his balls as he entered her. She didn’t want me to miss a thing. “Keep playing with yourself, but you better not come, bitch.” I did as she commanded.
She gasped as he entered her, growing more and more vocal as theyufucked. There’s no better way of putting it-it wasn’t making love. Lindsay and I make love: Lindsay and Vin fuck. There’s a difference but I’m damned if I can explain it. She howled her pleasure like an animal, showing me a side of her I had never seen as she clawed his back into red, bleeding marks. It was so unreal I’m 6’4″ and this guy barely over five feet is like the fuck of the century?
After an eternity of the agonyuand ecstasy of watching this, Vin finally came as he brought her to a second climax. Bathed in sweat and catching their breath, they held each other on the couch for a while, my existence forgotten.
Once she had calmed down a while, she sat up on the couch and picked up a leash from the coffee-table. Attaching it to my collar she said in a husky voice. “Lick your Master’s cum from my cunt, slut.” She pulled me to my knees, my head between her legs and licking for all I was worth without hesitation.
I had done this before, plenty of times, but never like this, not another man’s cum. The aroma was familiar and pungent, the taste strange and bitter. It took a long time to clean her, and she moved and squirmed beneath my mouth, my licking bringing her to her third climax of the evening. Finally she gripped my hair in a tight grip and yanked me away from her now very sensitive pussy.
“Now bitch beg for your Master’s cock.”
And I did. I whined, I pleaded, I begged for it like it was the one thing that could make my life complete. I begged without shame. Somehow, within the space of a few hours, I was conditioned and broken enough that it felt right to beg for it, to be a slut. It fit the part.
She tugged the leash towards Vin, who took a hold of the end and drew me in between his legs. He pulled me towards his cock and ordered, “Suck me slut..suck me hard so I can fuck your Mistress again.”
His cock was still somewhat spent, soft and limp. I knew I had to do a good job to please my Owner both my Owners. Lindsay grabbed my head and pushed it to within an inch of it. She then put her face close to mine and teased. “I know you want it that’s a girl”
I slowly took it into my mouth, sucking lightly. It felt alien in my mouth, meaty, smelling of my wife and smeared with their juices combined. She stroked my hair and whispered words of encouragement in my ear, but I was past hearing. I closed my eyes and surrendered, body, heart and soul to my fate.
Kim was gone. I was Kimberly, now and forever a possession.
Greg unlocked the door to his condo, and they both entered. It had been over
three months since he’d gotten laid. Consequently, he had made a conscious
effort not to show his true hunger to the young woman that accompanied him.
Nikki removed her waist length black leather jacket. Greg politely took it and
told her to make herself comfortable. As he hung her jacket in the closet, he
offered her a drink. She requested white wine.
Greg confirmed that he indeed had white wine. On his way to the kitchen, he
stopped to turn up the thermostat. That was a little trick he had learned years
ago. He knew that women were more likely to remove their clothes if they felt
As he poured their wine, he thought about his good fortune. He had met Nikki
only two hours earlier at his favorite neighborhood watering hole. She seemed
so out of place, being such a beauty… and alone. Greg never really had
expected her to accept his offer for a drink. After all, they were a mismatch.
Being 44 himself, Greg figured Nikki to be in her mid to late twenties. He’d
somewhat expected her to address the age issue, but she hadn’t. Since he
usually passed for his late thirties, Greg saw no reason to bring it up
himself. He was proud of his low mileage and years of effort at the gym.
Greg carried the two glasses of wine out to the living room where he found her
inspecting the pictures on the wall. She accepted a glass, and then sat on the
sofa. He sat across from her in his easy chair, so that he could study her as
they made small talk.
Nikki was even more beautiful than he’d been able to earlier determine in the
dark and smoky bar. She wasn’t overly pretty or feminine, but she had a raw,
earthy, and exotic look that Greg found irresistible. Her chestnut colored hair
was long, thick, and wavy. Piercing steel blue eyes, pointed eyebrows, full
pouty lips, and high cheekbones adorned her softly chiseled face.
Whenever her eyes broke contact with his, he would quickly glance down at her
breasts. She had unzipped her tight, black, ribbed knit sweater far enough for
him to see her ample cleavage and the top of her black laced bra.
Every time she turned away, he would steal a look at her long, defined, slender
legs. She was not wearing any hose, but her legs were smooth enough to allow
her short leather skirt to slowly inch up her thighs whenever she shifted her
body for comfort. Another inch or two, and he might be able to see her panties,
if she wore any.
Greg’s cock noticeably responded to the visual delight seated across from him.
The combination of his Dockers and boxer shorts gave his cock the freedom to
create a crotch tent. With the exception of attending a strip bar, he couldn’t
recall the last time he had gotten so hard from just looking at a woman.
Nikki shifted her weight again, and uncrossed her legs. Greg caught a glimpse
of a dark patch between her legs, but didn’t have enough time to determine if
it was her pubic hair or dark colored panties. His cock swelled to its’ full
capacity as he fantasized about burying his face between her thighs and using
his tongue to make her pussy feel good.
Nikki broke his reverie by requesting another glass of wine. He cursed himself
for using the small wine glasses. Now he had no choice but to stand up and
expose the huge bulge in his pants. He took her glass and quickly exited the
room, feeling a little embarrassed.
When he returned with the refilled glasses, he found her standing over his
entertainment system running her finger along a shelf. He handed her the glass
of wine and noticed that her finger had left a line on the dusty shelf.
“I haven’t dusted for a while.”, he explained, smiling sheepishly.
“Typical.”, was all she said. She sat down on the sofa once again.
“So, I see that you were able to… ahem, compose yourself while in the
kitchen.”, she commented.
“What do you mean?”, he asked, knowing full well what she meant.
“You were rather aroused before I asked for more wine.”, she explained with a
devilish smile, looking him straight in the eyes.
“W-well, yes I was. You’re a beautiful woman.”, he admitted, surprised at her
directness. He noticed that she may have unzipped her sweater another inch or
so while he was in the kitchen.
“Did you enjoy sneaking your little glances at my breasts and up my skirt?”,
she asked just bit curtly.
She had been cock teasing him all along, Greg thought. He felt a little
annoyed, but saw no point in denying it.
“I suppose I DID. As I’ve said, you really are beautiful and I … “, he tried
“How old are you?”, she interrupted, crossing her legs.
“Forty four.”, he responded.
“Hmm… A little older than I thought, but that may even be better. When’s the
last time you got laid?”, she asked in a matter of fact manner.
“It’s been a while.”, he replied, off balance from her directness. He preferred
to be honest, but he didn’t want to be any more specific than he had to.
“How LONG of a while?”, she pressed, uncrossing her legs and spreading them
just enough to make her skirt climb up a couple inches.
“Three or four months.”, he reluctantly responded.
“A one night stand?”, she inquired.
“Yes.”, he replied.
“Hmm. How many times have you gotten laid in the past year?”, she asked.
“Hey look, what’s with the third degree?”, Greg finally objected, but he had
allowed the conversation to go far enough for Nikki to tell that he could be
“Greg, haven’t you wondered what a woman like me would want with a man like
you?”, she asked confidently.
He grinned sheepishly and admitted that he had.
“You obviously find me quite attractive, Greg. What do you like about me?”, she
inquired with that devilish smile of hers.
“Everything!”, he responded. Unable to resist any longer, he stood up and
“Sit DOWN Greg, we’re not done talking yet!”, she instructed in a controlling
He looked into her piercing eyes, then docilely retreated back to his chair.
She caught him glancing at her thighs. He quickly looked away.
“Go ahead and LOOK Greg. Take a GOOD look! When’s the last time you wanted
someone as much as you want me now?”, she continued, shifting herself so that
her skirt climbed still another inch up her thighs.
“It’s been a very, very long time.”, he admitted.
“What do you think the odds are of having someone like me here again anytime
soon, Greg?”, she asked.
He unabashedly stared up and down at her body and thought for a moment.
“Probably not very good.”, he admitted.
“Listen to me carefully, Greg. If you play your cards just right, you’ll have
the chance to see a lot of me in the future. But if you fuck up just ONCE, I
will walk out of your life forever. Those are the rules, Greg. They’re simple
enough. Do you understand them?”, she asked, spreading her legs just enough for
him to see the patch of black between her legs once again.
“Yes.”, he replied. His cock was rock hard all over again, but this time it
didn’t concern him.
“Have you ever had a woman tell you what to do, Greg?”, she asked.
“No, I can’t say that I have.”, he replied, suspecting that he was about to for
the first time.
“No, I didn’t think so. Novices like you are often hesitant about doing some of
the things that I require. So here’s how it’s gonna work, Greg. I’ll give you
just ONE warning. If you don’t fall in line after that, I’ll walk out of your
life and we’ll be done for good. Understand?”, she inquired.
“Yes.”, he responded. He had read about women like Nikki before, but had always
believed such stories to be fiction.
“Good, I’m pleased! Tell me. What would you like to do now, Greg?”, she teased.
- Continued … -
Originally posted 2007-09-13 16:13:58.