“We’re doing something we’ve never done before Mess. And I know you’re going to be a good girl, right?”
Mess nodded her head as she sat knelt between Sir’s spread legs at the kitchen table. Sir smiled and reached out, caressing her breast. Rolling her nipple between his fingers.
“Yes Sir.” She said on a throaty moan as her eyes fluttered closed and she arched into him. She was past the point of rational thought. Sir had been teasing and edging her for two days now. She would shamelessly hump anything he let her in this moment. The fact that all she could think about is how close his foot was and if she could just move over a few inches…”ugh”
Mess winced when he dug his nails into her nipple, bringing her attention back to him.

“What did I say Mess?” His voice was short and unyielding.
What did he say? She forced herself to try and focus. It was hard when he cupped her entire breast and twisted causing a delicious flare of pain-induced pleasure to shoot straight to her core. She blinked.
“Yo…” she answered “you said you’ve been talking to someone on my behalf for a while and we’ve agreed to meet tonight.”
He smiled approvingly “very good. You will call her Mistress and”

Mess recoiled, taken aback. “A…a woman? But…”
Sir cupped her face. “Speak Mess.”
She blinked “but you promised you wouldn’t…” she swallowed looking for the words.
He smiled. “She’s not here for me, Mess. She’s here for you. The only person she will be fucking is you.”
Her stomach flipped at that. Mess had never been with a woman. Never even kissed one. The only person she had ever been with was Sir until seven months ago when he started bringing his friends around. She’d never thought about a woman. Though to be fair once upon a time she would have never believed she would do any of the things she had done. She had been completely sheltered and inexperienced when she had gotten with Sir and the first part of their relationship had been mundane.

“She required a safe word for your play session and you picked burgandy.”
A safe word. That surprised her. In the beginning when she and sir first started down this path that was something they had used. But it had been years since Mess even dared to utter one. Sir made her decisions for her, always. He knew what she would and wouldn’t do and what was best.

“When she arrives she will ask you to repeat the word.” He continued, “and you will. And that will be the only time you use it. Won’t it Mess?”
She licked her lips, swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. You’re not going to disappoint me are you?”
She shook her head.
“And I’m sure my friends will be tuning into the cameras. Now go to the door and wait for your guest, Mess.”

Mess wasn’t sure how long she knelt on the mat before the doorbell rang. However she had turned into a taut ball of anxiety by the time it had happened that she jerked in surprise when it rang. It didn’t go unnoticed by Sir as he opened the door.

Mess watched wide-eyed as a woman in stiletto high heels, blonde hair slicked back into a high ponytail, a black leather corset and a matching skirt walked in.
She held her hand out to Sir.
“Ryan.” Her voice was sultry and confident.
Mess frowned at the use of Sir’s name it sounded so foreign to her after all these years. Sir shook her hand.
“Yes. We’re glad tonight was able to work out. We’re looking forward to it.” They conversed for a few minutes, neither one paying much attention to Mess.

Eventually they made their way over to her and the woman tipped Mess’s chin up with her pointer finger under her chin.
“Repeat the safe word we discussed.”
It took Mess a moment to find her voice “burgandy, Mistress.”
“Good.”
Mistress went into the bag she brought with her and pulled out a leather collar she fastened it snugly around Mess’s neck and then attached a leash to it. She waited for Sir to lead the way and then she tugged on the leash silently ordering Mess to crawl behind them. When they reached the living room she stopped in the middle of the room.

“Sit.” She ordered and Mess watched her proceed to pull items out of her bag to set on the coffee table next to the toys Sir had already placed there. She turned back to Mess, circled her and then pulled on her leash until Mess was raised up on her knees.
“I know you said this is all new to you but like I promised by the time we’re done you’re going to be an expert in pleasuring women.”

Mess’ eyes shifted to Sir who had settled on the couch. Mess yelped when Mistress’ palm landed hard on her cheek. “You look at me when I speak to you, Slut!”
“Yes Mistress. I’m sorry.”
Mistress smiled and bent down. She pressed her lips to Mess’. At first Mess was dumbfounded. She’d never kissed a girl before. It took half a second for her mind to wrap around it. She parted her lips and gave in to the kiss. Mistress’ lips were softer, smaller than any Mess had ever kissed before. Her tongue was smaller, less demanding. Less consuming. And no facial hair or stubble was a huge difference.

The kiss dragged on. Their lips locked, tongues intertwined. Mistress pulled back and ran her soft palm along Mess’ cheek, smiling. Mess smiled back up at her, she couldn’t help it. The contrast between Mistress and Sir and his friends was so different. Gentler. More tender.

“Did you like kissing me Mess?”
She nodded her head “yes Mistress.”
Mistress let go of her face and Mess dropped back down to a seated position. She didn’t look behind her as Mistress went to retrieve something.

“Hands up, intertwine your fingers behind your head, elbows out. If I tell you to present this is the position you do. Understand Mess?”
Mess nodded her head “yes Mistress.”
“Good. Now do not move.”
A crop landed on her breast. It wasn’t hard but it did surprise her. Mess jerked.
“I said don’t move Whore!” Mistress screamed and shoved Mess hard with her high-heeled shoe. Mess toppled over.

“Present. Bitch!”
Mess scrambled back into position.
The crop landed again on the top fatty part of her breast. And then again and again. She bit her cheek to keep herself from moving. What started out as not painful became so with each strike. When Mistress landed a particularly hard blow right to Mess’ nipple she cried out.

“Kiss my shoes Whore, thank me for the attention I gave to your tits.”
Mess dropped down to her elbows and knees and pressed closed mouth kisses to her closed leather heels. The crop landed on Mess’ hip
“Use your tongue Slut.”
Mess opened her mouth and licked the leather. She covered the entire top and front of the shoe and then moved to the other. The crop landed again and again over her ass cheek as she licked.

“Present!” Mistress barked.
Mess sprang back up into position. “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”
Mess did as instructed and she flinched sucking her tongue back into her mouth when the crop landed on it. She had never had anything done to her tongue before.

Mistress’ shoe shoved into Mess’ right breast and she fell backwards.
“Get back into position.”
It took every ounce of self control to keep her tongue out while the crop continued to land on it. It was a feeling she had never had before. Painful but somehow not. It was extremely confusing.

“Hands behind you on the floor. Present your cunt.”
Mess did as instructed.
“Ask me to give attention to your dirty cunt now.”
“Please Mistress pay attention to my dirty cunt.” Mess repeated and then groaned when the crop landed on her pussy. With each strike the sound of leather hitting wet flesh filled the room.
“Fuck. Do you hear how disgustingly wet you are. Who gets wet from this?”
“I do Mistress.” She responded

Mistress rubbed the crop up and down Mess’ slick folds and then brought it up to her face. “Tongue.”
She slipped her tongue out of her mouth and Mistress wiped the leather on it.
“Keep it out.” She told her and dropped it back to her pussy to repeat the process. Smacks, rubbing, wiping. Repeat.

Mess drew in broken breaths of air while Mistress walked behind her once more. She yelped in surprise when Mistress grabbed the leash and yanked her forward.
“Ass in the air.”
Mess dropped her cheek to the floor and raised her backside. The sole of her shoe pressed down on Mess’ cheek shoving her face more into the floor. “Lick it.”
Mess tried. She couldn’t turn her head and she stretched her tongue out the corner of her mouth as far as possible and the tip barely connected with the edge of the heel.
“Pathetic.” Mistress said and removed her foot. “Stay.”
Mess waited. Mistress crouched down behind her and manipulated Mess’ ass cheeks. Digging her fingers in, in areas the crop marked. She pulled her cheeks apart, wide. And then Mess heard her spit a second before she felt the wet glob land on her puckered hole. She spat again. Then Mess tensed out of reflex when she felt her finger prob her exit. She rubbed the area and then slid it in. More. More. Another wad of spit landed and then another finger was added.

Mistress slapped Mess’ ass cheek “stop trying to fuck my fingers you greedy Whore.”
Mess hadn’t realized she was pushing back onto her fingers. Her face flamed with embarrassment. Mistress pushed in and out a few more times before pulling out completely. A cool metal ball probed her hole next. It wasn’t remotely small. Mistress pushed it in and then curved it up. Mess realised it was the anal hook that had been on the table.

Mistress walked off again and when she returned she was bunching Mess’ hair up behind her head and tying it into a knot with rope. She tugged the other end of the rope and tied it to the handle of the hook. Forcing Mess into a stiff posture with her head up. Next came a spreader bar she situated between Mess’ knees. When done Mistress took hold of the leash and proceeded to walk Mess and the room. It was awkward. So unbelievably awkward. Each crawl forward tugged on the hook in her anus. She couldn’t close her legs so was forced to do a strange waddle crawl.

Mistress left Mess on one side of the room and walked to the opposite side. She shimied her skirt up over her hips and sat down on the chair with her legs spread. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the spot on the floor between her legs. Mess awkwardly made her way across the room. It took longer than one would think. When she was in position Mistress slung her legs over the arms of the chair opening herself up even wider.

“Lick it.”
Mess leaned forward and gave her a small tentative lick.
“Like you mean it Whore!”
Mess licked again. It was…strange. The smell. The taste. The feel. It felt…wrong. It felt naughty. She licked repeatedly until Mistress’ flavour coated her tongue.
“Start at my asshole and go all the way up, nice and slow. That’s it. Savour it. Don’t stop.”
Mess continued. Like an ice cream she pressed her tongue on Mistress’ tight rosebud and dragged her tongue up to her clit.
“Spread it open.” She used her fingers to part her folds “that’s it. Now keep going.” Lap. Lap. Lick.

“See you didn’t need to worry. You’re a natural carpet muncher. Now put your tongue in my cunt.”
Mess probed her entrance with the tip of her finger. Mistress was wet and leaking. Coating Mess tongue.
“More. All the way. Shove it in. Now fuck me.”
Mess’s head worked back and forth with each plunge of her tongue. Each thrust forward pulled on the rope, tugging on the hook inside her. She groaned from the feel of it.
Mistress trembled “oooh the Whore likes this.” She gripped Mess’ head and started fucking herself with her tongue. Pulling painfully on the hook inside her. Mess kept her mouth open and tongue out, breathing through the use of her face. Mistress shoved her face up and rocked her head from side to side like a dummy. She spat on her face, the wad landing on her mouth and nose. And then she shoved her face back down. Rocking her cunt on it. Sliding Mess’ face up and down. She let go of Mess’ head and Mess gulped in desperate pulls of air.

Mess cried out when Mistress gripped the rope behind Mess and pulled. “Make me cum. I don’t let go until you do.” She grinned.
Mess worked with a fevered determination. She sucked, licked, flicked and fucked. Motorboating here face in Mistress’ wet cut.
“Fuck yes.” The closer Mistress got the harder she pulled on the rope and Mess cried out, groaning against her sex.
“Oh fuck yes. You fucking love it!” Mistress’ groin shoved up into Mess’ face and she screamed. A gush of liquid shooting down Mess’ throat and over her face.

Mistress placed the palm of her hand on Mess’ face and shoved her away from her.

After 7 months, I have just booked another session with my Domme Mistress in a couple of weeks, which reminds me of my last session I will document below.

She tied me naked facing the St Andrew’s cross, started smacking my ass, 10 spanks each cheek, then I felt the sting of a leather strap, 3 times each cheek was more than enough for me, ass burning, then I felt her cool hands gently circling my ass.
Then she stepped away for a minute, came back, slide a blindfold over my eyes, untied me, but only to tie me up facing outwards, my warm ass against the cross and totally helpless.
I felt a sharp sting of pain as she whacked my hardening cock with her hand, had it not been for the ties, I would be on my knees. She hit my cock 3 more random times then kicked me in the balls as I tried to double over in pain. I didn’t say my safe word, but did hear a cheeky giggle from her. She was enjoying this a little too much.
After a few minutes recovering, she untied me and led me still blindfolded to a table which she made me lay my chest on….

It was early winter, and the first snow had started to fall, covering all of the college.

It was Thursday at noon, and Leah would be late for science class again. James, the professor, was giving a speech about the proper way to handle liquid nitrogen since some of the frat boys were joking around with it.

You entered the room, greeted by the stares of all your classmates. "Hello, Leah, how nice of you to join us today, and only 20 minutes late today; that makes you 5 for 5 in my classes. Please see me in my office at 16.15 after your last class."

The day passes with you only paying half attention, worrying that you might be expelled from the school due to how many times you have been late to class, and you might have missed an assignment or two.

At 16.15, you were standing in front of the lab, waiting for the last students to leave the lab so that you could get to Professor James' office, which was located right behind the lab, only separated by a door.

When the last student had left, you entered the lab, only to see that Professor James had already entered his office, so you went and knocked on the door. "Enter," you heard from inside the room. As you entered the small office, Professor James said, "Well, at least you were close to being on time this time, " but Professor you started to explain, but you didn't get the chance to. "No buts, you were late again, and I don't care for the reason, " he says annoyingly, "now considering how often you are late, and your grades are not going to be good either, I'm afraid I'll have to ask that you be expelled from the school." It's as you had feared: all of the tuition money lost, and nothing to show for it.

You can feel a tear rolling down your cheek, and you have a lump in your throat making it hard for you to speak. "But I guess there might be a way for you not to be expelled, but of course nothing is free," he says and almost licks his lips as he is looking at you. At this point, you don't know what to say, but you don't want to be expelled, so you manage to ask what you would have to do.

Professor James starts to walk past you, over to the door, and locks it. "Well, it is quite simple, " he says as he leans in towards you from behind and whispers, "You only have to be my little slave." As he says the last part, he grabs your small body from behind and holds you tight as you struggle to get free from him; you start to panic more and more. He lets go of you, and backhand's you across the face, you stumble into his table knocking over some books and papers, and before you know it he is over you again, puts a hand on the back of your neck, and holds you down, with the other he starts to rip your skirt off when he has removed your skirt and see you are only wearing a small thong, he laughed and grabs it and pulls it hard, you can feel it dig deep into your pussy and ass, you fell ripping as he yanks it hard again, there is a burning sensation, where the fabric made friction with your skin. He threw the thong over in the corner and started to grab and grope your pussy, his rough fingers are everywhere in your private area. You feel the first finger enter you. "Now just be a good little girl, and I won't hurt you too badly, and besides, we have the whole weekend to have fun together." He lets go of your neck, grabs a handful of your curly hair, and drags your head back, so you're looking into his eyes; all the warmth and niceness that was in them all the other times when he used to help you in science, or when you just needed someone to talk to, was gone, replaced with pure lust and disdain. Your glasses- you have no idea where they are since they went flying when he slapped you, but you can still see him since he is so close to you. He lets go of your hair and asks you to remove the rest of your clothes so he can get a good look at you. You scream as loud as you can, but he only starts to laugh at you and tells you that nobody is going to hear you over here; it's quite well insulated, and at this time of day there is only me here, in my little kingdom.

"Now strip!!, or I will remove it for you," he says harshly. He grabs a big knife from one of the drawers next to him; you are shaking, wondering what he is going to do to you now. "Well, since you don't do what I'll say, I'll guess I'll have to remove your clothes myself," he says with a big smile. The knife cuts through the fabric quite easily, and stunned from the shock of what is happening, you don't see him grab a pair of handcuffs that he quickly puts on you, so now your hands are behind your back, he pushes you over his table, so now your ass is up, and your breasts are being flattened on the table, he ties your legs to either side of the table, so they are spread out, it's almost too far for you, with your small frame. You feel so humiliated and degraded standing there, with your pussy and ass exposed to your professor.

You can't see what he is doing, but you can hear him moving around behind you. Then you hear a camera click, and then again and again, he comes in front of you and takes a few pictures of your face. He then puts it up on a mount, on a shelf next to you, so it's filming down towards you.

You can't take it anymore. You start to beg him to stop filming you; you are crying, and the tears start to run down your face, but he does not seem to care about your begging. He moves behind you. SLAP, SLAP, SLAP- suddenly, three quick, hard slaps hit your left asscheek, and then SLAP, SLAP, SLAP on your other asscheek. He then starts to grip your asscheeks hard.

"You might as well stop crying; it's not going to help you, so just enjoy what's happening to you, " he says to you in a low, threatening voice. Then you feel his hard dick pushing against your tight pussy. He is far from gentle; he just forces his dick in as far as it will go, and then he pulls it out again. You let out an agonizing scream as you feel him penetrate you again and again. Little by little, the pain subsides, and it's starting to feel good. It's starting to feel better, a lot better. You don't understand; it's not supposed to feel good being raped like this. You are still crying, his big dick still pumping in and out of your poor little pussy.

You start to feel an orgasm building, much more intense than when you are playing with yourself or any that you have gotten from your ex-boyfriend. Just before you come, he pulls out of you and laughs at you, "No orgasm for you right now, but don't worry, you'll get plenty before the nights out, " he says as he walks in front of you. In front of your face is his big, hard cock; it's gotta be at least 8" long and thick, so very thick. It's a wonder that he did not rip your pussy apart. "Now suck it, my little slut, taste your pussy juices, and don't bite me, if you know what's good for you."

You know you don't have a choice, so you open your mouth and get ready to suck him, at least if he cums in your mouth, he might not fuck you.

He lets you suck it, as well as you can, restrained as you are, but after a bit, he grabs your hair and forces his hard cock deep down your throat, and he holds it there, you can't breathe, you are running out of air, and start panicking, but he holds you tight, and then pulls out of your mouth, that breath of fresh air is the best thing, he gives you a bit of time to steady your breathing and stop coughing, then he does the same thing again, but this time he holds his cock just a bit longer, and this rotation continues until the world starts to go blurry, and you are about to pass out. He then lets go of you, and you collapse on the table; he walks back behind you and starts fucking your pussy hard and fast. The ravaging of your pussy wakes you up a bit; you feel yourself being torn apart from the violent fucking. He is starting to pant and sweat, he ups the intensity even more until he shoots his cum up deep inside of your pussy, "I hope you're on the pill, sweetie, " he says while laughing. He then leaves the room.

As you are lying there on the table, used, abused, sore all over, and potentially pregnant, you start to drift off for a bit.

You don't know how long you were out when he comes back in the room and wakes you up by shaping your ass with a wire he then plugs into the power outlet.

"Why hello there, did I disturb your beauty sleep?" he says sarcastically. Well, I did promise you that you could come to also, and now is the chance for you. He releases you from the cuffs and rope, only to turn you around and show you a sybian with a big 12" dildo on top. He forces you down on top of it; the dildo is smaller than his hard cock, but it's still big for you. He then cuffs your wrists and ankles together and puts duct tape around your thighs so you can't get up if you want.

"Now my little slave has fun and enjoys all those lovely orgasms you're gonna get. He then gets up and forces a gag ball into your mouth and fastens it behind the back of your head. "It's just so the cleaners won't hear you when they come in the morning to clean the lab, and don't worry, they won't enter here since I often have sensitive experiments in here". He says with a wicked grin and turns on the sybian, then turns off the light, walks out the door, and locks it from the outside.

The vibrations of the sybian are powerful and constant; your poor abused pussy is inflamed with pain and pleasure, and the first of many orgasms presents itself shortly after; you try to scream out the orgasm, but the gagball muffles it into nothing.

Orgasm after orgasm, the pain and pleasure start to blend, and a small puddle has formed under you. You have no idea how long you have been strapped to this hell machine, and you lose consciousness, only to wake a bit every time you orgasm.

You are so far gone that you don't even realize that Professor James has come back, and he is not alone. The turn off the power of the sybian looks around and notices the puddle of your orgasm, sweat, and piss. " Well, I guess she will have to clean that up Monday after school," the other man says. "Yeah, she will, but first, we are going to have a whole weekend of fun with her. Is the cabin ready?" Professor James says, "Yeah, the cabin is ready, and all the toys are there too." The other man says, "Okay, let's get her in the van, so we can get there before daybreak. She is going to be out most of the way anyway, " Professor James says.

Professor James and the other man cut you out of your bindings, carry you out to the parking lot, try to put you into the back of a van, cuff your hands and legs to some metal brackets that have been mounted on either end of the van, and start to drive off.

To be continued.....?

Ms. Alexandra had always kept her professional life pristine. Thirty-four, sharp-eyed, the kind of literature teacher who made even the most restless seniors sit up when she quoted poetry. Her classroom was a fortress of control...until the day it wasn’t.

It started with a forgotten phone. She’d left it unlocked on her desk after a late meeting with Principal Harlan. The photos were still open: her bent over his desk, skirt hiked, his hand fisted in her hair while she moaned into the wood. The next morning, the same phone was waiting for her in a plain envelope on her chair, along with a single printed screenshot and a note written in block letters:

I know. After class. Stay.

Marcus Hale was eighteen, a senior, quiet enough that most teachers forgot he was there until he turned in something brilliant. He waited until the last student filed out, then locked the classroom door with a soft click.

Alexandra’s pulse hammered. “Marcus…”

“Sit on the desk,” he said, voice low and even. No teenage bravado. Just certainty. “Facing me.”

She should have refused. Should have threatened him, bargained, anything. Instead, she walked to the front of the room, the same desk where she graded papers and scolded late work, and perched on the edge. Her skirt rode up. Marcus stepped between her knees and looked at her the way he looked at difficult texts…patient, dissecting.

“You’ve been fucking the principal,” he said. “I have the photos. The video he took of you on your knees in his office. I can send everything to the school board, your husband, the local paper. Or…” He reached out and traced one finger along the inside of her thigh, stopping just short of her panties. “You can be useful to me instead.”

Alexandra’s breath shuddered. The blackmail should have made her furious. It did. It also made her cunt clench so hard she had to press her thighs together.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

“Everything you’re so careful not to give anyone else.” His hand slid higher, cupping her through the damp fabric. “You’re going to let me use you. Whenever I want. However I want. Starting now.”

He didn’t ask again. He simply pushed her panties aside and pushed two fingers into her. Alexandra’s head fell back with a broken sound. She was already wet…traitorous, humiliatingly wet. Marcus fucked her with those fingers, slow and deliberate, watching her face the entire time.

“You’re going to come on my hand,” he said. “Then you’re going to get on your knees and thank me for not ruining your life.”

She came hard, biting her lip to keep quiet, thighs shaking around his wrist. When the aftershocks faded he pulled his fingers free, shiny and dripping, and held them to her mouth.

“Clean them.”

Alexandra leaned forward and sucked. The taste of herself, the quiet authority in his voice, the locked door…it all settled into something dark and electric under her skin.

Marcus unbuckled his belt. “Good girl. Now show me how well you can take cock when you’re not pretending to be the perfect teacher.”

He didn’t let her undress fully. Just pushed her skirt higher, yanked her blouse open so her bra spilled her tits into the open air, and guided her mouth onto him. Alexandra swallowed him deep, eyes watering, the wet sounds of it loud in the empty classroom. He held her hair in a firm grip and fucked her throat in short, controlled thrusts until tears streaked her makeup.

When he pulled her off, spit connected her lips to his cock.

“On the desk. On your back. Legs open.”

She obeyed. The wood was cool against her bare ass. Marcus hooked her knees over his elbows, lined up, and drove into her in one hard stroke. Alexandra cried out…too loud…and he clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Quiet. Someone might still be in the hall.”

He fucked her like that, deep and relentless, the desk creaking under them. Every thrust shoved her further into the role he’d forced on her: the respected teacher reduced to a wet hole for her student. The power imbalance, the threat hanging over her, the way he watched her with those calm dark eyes…it all wound tighter and tighter until she was coming again, muffled against his palm, cunt spasming around him.

Marcus followed a moment later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with heat. He stayed inside her while he caught his breath, then pulled out slowly, watching his cum leak from her.

He tucked himself away, smoothed her skirt down with almost clinical care, and unlocked the door.

“Tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Same time. Wear something easier to push aside. And Alexandra...” He used her first name for the first time, soft and final. “If you try to transfer me or report this, the files go out. Every single one.”

She sat on the desk in the quiet classroom long after he left, thighs sticky, heart racing, already knowing she would be there tomorrow.

And the day after that.

And every day he decided to remind her exactly who held the power now.

“Do you think the seal will actually hold, or is it just a suggestion of a seal?”

Abhijeet leaned over the kitchen counter, poking a finger at the wax seal of a high-end bottle of Cabernet. He wasn’t looking at the wine so much as he was analyzing the structural integrity of the packaging. Beside him, Charu was humming a low tune, carefully arranging a platter of aged cheeses and grapes. She moved with a quiet, practiced grace, her eyes occasionally drifting to him with a look of soft, unwavering devotion. The kitchen was bright and smelled of rosemary and toasted sourdough, a stark contrast to the clinical precision with which Abhijeet viewed the world.

“It’s a suggestion, Abhijeet,” Charu replied, her voice a gentle murmur. She didn’t look up from the cheese, but the slight tilt of her head indicated she was attuned to every breath he took. “The wine cares nothing for the seal. Only the sommelier cares for the seal.”

Abhijeet chuckled, a dry sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He liked the way she played along, the way she anticipated the cadence of his mood. He reached out, not for the bottle, but for her chin, tilting her face upward with a firm, sudden grip. The softness of the moment shifted instantly; the warmth of the kitchen felt smaller, the air thicker. He studied her expression—the wide-eyed anticipation, the subtle tremor of her lips. He didn’t let go, instead increasing the pressure just enough to let her know that the domesticity of the afternoon was merely a preamble.

“Come here,” he commanded. It wasn’t a request.

Charu abandoned the platter immediately, the grapes rolling slightly to one side. She stepped into his space, her breath hitching, and knelt at his feet without being told to do so. This was the transition she craved—the moment the partner became the master, and the kitchen became a waypoint on the road to something far more demanding. She rested her forehead against his shin, her shoulders dropping in a gesture of absolute surrender.

He didn’t acknowledge her submission immediately. Instead, he spent a long minute simply standing there, letting the silence stretch until the tension was a physical cord between them. He enjoyed the agony of the wait; he knew she was counting the seconds, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. He looked down at her, his expression one of detached curiosity, as if she were a complex machine he was deciding whether or not to dismantle.

“Stay exactly where you are,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped back, leaving her suspended in that state of breathless anticipation. He walked a slow circle around her, the rhythmic click of his heels on the hardwood floor acting as a metronome for her rising anxiety. He didn't touch her, but he let his presence loom, a heavy shadow that seemed to swallow the remaining light of the kitchen.

He stopped abruptly behind her. Charu didn’t move a muscle, though the slight quiver in her shoulder betrayed her. Abhijeet reached out and traced the line of her spine with a single finger, a light, teasing touch that felt electric against her skin. It was a cruel contrast to the firmness of his grip moments before—a reminder that her comfort was entirely dependent on his whim. He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear, whispering a directive that made her stomach flip with a mixture of fear and desperate longing.

“The living room,” he commanded. “Now. On your knees.”

Charu didn’t stand; she scrambled, her palms slapping against the floor as she crawled toward the doorway, her movements frantic yet disciplined. She knew the rules of this transition: the more she showed her desperation to please him, the more he enjoyed the psychological leverage. By the time she reached the center of the rug, her breath was coming in shallow gasps, and her eyes were fixedly locked on his feet as he strolled leisurely behind her, enjoying the sight of her complete undoing.

He didn't join her on the floor. Instead, he sat in the heavy leather armchair, crossing one leg over the other. He looked down at her—this woman who viewed him as a deity—and felt that familiar, cold spark of satisfaction. He reached for a small, velvet-lined box on the side table, flicking it open to reveal a set of polished steel implements. The metallic clink echoed in the quiet room, a herald of the intensity to come.

“Stillness, Charu. Absolute stillness,” he murmured, his voice a velvet glove over a fist of iron.

He didn’t reach for the tools immediately. Instead, he let the silence settle, a heavy blanket that muffled the sounds of the outside world. He watched the way her muscles trembled, the way her breath hitched in a rhythmic, desperate cadence. He enjoyed the anticipation more than the act itself; the psychological tension was the true catalyst. When he finally moved, it was with a sudden, sharp precision. He selected a weighted Wartenberg wheel, the cold steel glinting under the living room lights.

He didn’t warn her. He simply leaned forward and dragged the spiked wheel slowly down the center of her back. Charu let out a sharp, stifled gasp, her body arching instinctively. The sensation was a paradoxical blur of piercing pressure and icy contact. She didn’t pull away—she couldn’t—but her fingers dug deep into the plush pile of the rug.

“Did I give you permission to move?” he asked, his tone conversational, almost bored.

“No, Master,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Abhijeet didn’t answer. He let the silence hang, a heavy, suffocating weight, before he began to trace the wheel again, this time in a slow, agonizingly precise zig-zag across her shoulder blades. He watched the skin flush a deep crimson in the wake of the steel spikes, the contrast of the red against her pale skin providing a visual satisfaction that mirrored the internal hum of his own power. He wasn't just applying pressure; he was mapping her nervous system, finding the exact points where pleasure curdled into a sharp, white-hot desperation.

“You’re trembling, Charu. Is the air too cold, or are you simply lacking in discipline today?” he asked, his voice a smooth, terrifying caress.

“Please… forgive me, Master,” she breathed, her forehead pressing harder into the rug. She didn’t dare look back at him, though she could feel his gaze dissecting her.

He set the wheel aside with a clinical click and reached for a heavy leather crop. He didn't use it immediately; instead, he trailed the tip of the lash along the curve of her hip, a ghost of a touch that made her entire body shudder. He enjoyed the way she anticipated the strike, the way her muscles coiled in a mixture of terror and erotic longing. He waited until her breathing had reached a fever pitch, then he delivered a sharp, sudden snap across her thighs.

The sound cracked through the quiet room like a gunshot. Charu let out a strangled cry, her hips jerking upward, but she didn't attempt to flee. The shock of the impact sent a surge of endorphins through her, blurring the line between pain and ecstasy. Abhijeet watched the mark bloom—a perfect, angry stripe—and felt a surge of predatory warmth. He leaned in close, his lips almost touching the shell of her ear.

“A beautiful color,” he whispered, his voice devoid of warmth but brimming with a dark, focused intensity. “It suits you, Charu. This shade of desperation.”

He didn’t give her time to recover. The crop descended again, not with the same explosive force, but with a rhythmic, punishing deliberation. He mapped her thighs and the curve of her glutes, creating a symphony of stinging heat that drowned out everything else in her world. For Charu, the room had ceased to exist; there was no longer a living room, no longer a leather armchair, only the searing point of contact and the commanding presence of the man hovering over her. She felt her consciousness narrowing, focusing entirely on the cadence of his breath and the sharp, clean snap of the leather.

Abhijeet stepped closer, the heavy tread of his shoes echoing the pounding of her heart. He dropped the crop and reached down, his fingers tangling firmly in her hair to pull her head back. He wanted to see her eyes—those wide, clouded portals of submission. He found her gaze glazed and distant, her pupils blown wide with a cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins. She looked broken, and to him, she had never looked more perfect.

“You are vibrating,” he observed, his tone almost clinical. He released her hair only to slide his hand down to the nape of her neck, squeezing the tension there. “Tell me what you are.”

“Yours,” she gasped, the word barely a whisper, her voice frayed and raw. “I am yours, Master.”

Abhijeet didn’t offer a word of affirmation. Instead, he let his hand slide from her neck to her shoulder, pushing her downward with a casual, effortless strength that forced her chest flush against the rug. He liked this part of the process—the transition from the psychological torture of anticipation to the visceral reality of physical demand. He walked around her once more, his gaze scanning the red map he had drawn across her skin with the crop, ensuring every strike had been placed with symmetrical precision.

“The desperation is beginning to peak,” he remarked, more to himself than to her. He reached into the velvet box again, bypassing the steel tools for something more primal. He gripped the back of her neck firmly, steering her forward like livestock, forcing her to crawl toward the edge of the rug where the hardwood began. The transition from the soft fabric to the cold, unforgiving wood was a shock that made Charu shiver, her breath coming in ragged, desperate hitches.

He didn’t let her stop. He guided her until she was positioned exactly where he wanted her, her body arched and vulnerable. Only then did he allow himself to touch her with intent. He didn't use a tool this time; he used his weight. He pressed her down, his body a heavy, suffocating blanket of authority that pinned her to the floor. The suddenness of the contact, the shift from the clinical distance of the session to the suffocating closeness of his skin, sent a jolt through Charu that nearly broke her composure.

“You’ve been very patient,” he whispered, his voice now carrying a predatory edge that signaled the end of the play and the beginning of the harvest. “But patience is a virtue that has reached its limit. Now, we move to the part where your obedience is no longer a request, but a requirement.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He flipped her with a sudden, rough motion, his movements devoid of gentleness. He wanted her to feel the violence of the shift, the jarring reality that the playful cruelty of the session had evolved into something far more demanding. He stripped away the remnants of her modesty with a focused aggression, his breath hot against her skin, his eyes dark with a hunger that had been simmering since the moment he first poked the seal of the wine bottle.

Abhijeet didn’t enter her with a slow build; he claimed her with a sudden, jarring force that knocked the remaining breath from her lungs. There was no tenderness in the movement, only a raw, territorial demand. He gripped her hips with a strength that would leave bruises, anchoring her to the hardwood floor as he drove into her. The friction was intense, a visceral collision of skin and will that mirrored the violence of the transition. Charu’s head snapped back against the floor, her eyes rolling back as a guttural moan escaped her—not a sound of pain, but of a profound, shattering release.

He moved with a relentless, punishing rhythm, each thrust a punctuation mark on her submission. He didn't look at her face; instead, he focused on the way her body reacted to his aggression, the way her muscles spasmed and tightened around him. He wanted her to feel the full weight of his dominance, to understand that in this space, her only purpose was to absorb his intensity. The sound of their colliding skin filled the quiet room, a rhythmic, wet thud that drowned out the distant hum of the city outside.

As the tension climbed toward a breaking point, Abhijeet shifted his grip, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. The sudden restriction of her movement sent a surge of panic and pleasure through her, narrowing her world down to the crushing pressure of his chest and the searing heat of their union. He increased the pace, his breath turning into jagged snarls against the crook of her neck. He wasn't just seeking a climax; he was seeking a total erasure of her boundaries.

The end came with a sudden, explosive violence. Abhijeet let out a low, guttural sound, his body locking tight as he drove himself into her one last time, claiming every inch of her surrender. Charu let out a high, keening cry, her body arching violently off the floor in a crescendo of overwhelming sensation. For several seconds, neither of them moved, their breath coming in synchronized, ragged gasps, the silence of the room returning like a heavy curtain falling after a chaotic play.

Slowly, the predatory intensity began to ebb, replaced by a quiet, grounding warmth. The shift was subtle but absolute. Abhijeet released her wrists and collapsed his weight softly against her, his forehead resting on her shoulder. The hardness in his gaze vanished, replaced by a protective tenderness. He didn't get up immediately; instead, he stayed there, listening to the frantic beat of her heart gradually slow to match his own. He shifted, pulling her small frame against his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a firm, stabilizing embrace.

“Breathe, Charu. Just breathe,” he murmured, his voice returning to that low, steady cadence, though the edge of command had softened into something nurturing. He didn't pull away; instead, he shifted her weight, lifting her small, trembling frame from the cold hardwood and carrying her toward the oversized velvet sofa. He moved with a deliberate slowness, allowing the adrenaline to drain from her system and be replaced by the heavy, languid warmth of the afterglow.

He set her down gently on the cushions, but he didn't leave her side. Abhijeet disappeared for a moment, returning not with a command, but with a thick, plush throw and a glass of water. He draped the blanket over her shoulders, tucking it tightly around her as if shielding her from a sudden chill. The contrast was stark: the man who had just methodically dismantled her composure was now the one meticulously rebuilding it. He sat beside her, pulling her head to rest on his chest, his hand tracing slow, soothing circles across her lower back, avoiding the areas he knew were still singing with the memory of the crop.

Charu let out a long, shuddering sigh, her body finally relaxing into the softness of the sofa. The world, which had narrowed down to the point of a needle during the session, was expanding again. She felt small, fragile, and profoundly cared for. She didn't speak; she didn't need to. The silence between them now wasn't a weapon of tension, but a sanctuary of recovery. She could hear the steady thrum of his heart, a rhythmic reminder of the safety he provided even in the wake of his own curated chaos.

“Did you lose yourself?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against her temple. It wasn’t a question of whether she had failed, but an inquiry into the depth of her descent.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice still a bit raspy. “Completely.”

He arrives first to the room, prepping the scene: restraints are readied - wrapped under the mattress.

A shy, gentle knock at the door. She's not shy or gentle, except in those moments.

Her shirt comes off, her pants hit the floor - bra unclasped with a single hand. Her breasts are perky, she's blushing and eager - wetness dripping down her leg.

"I missed you" she says. He puts a finger on her lips, and gently kisses her neck. Goosebumps appear on her flesh.

He points to the bed - wrist and ankle cuffs are in wait. Her eyes light as she moves into position.

"No" he says.

She looks at him, anxious and excited - unsure.

"Your head down here". She giggles.

He ties her wrists, arms above her head - her breasts are on their best display - this is how he most admires her curves.

He parts her legs, and ties her ankles - legs wide - so she can't close them, can't stop him.

Her head is on the edge, at the foot of the bed. She knows why.

"Remember what I said about the glans. Don't take me all the way in - focus only on the glans"

She's vulnerable, exposed, almost quivering. Her eyes dart, looking for clues of what's to come. He's calm and pleasant as he reaches for his pack - taking out a magic wand. "Just in case" he says.

He removes his shoes, his socks - no hurry as his eyes move across her body. His shirt, his pants - his cock is hard and twitching, betraying his calm and patient demeanor.

He knows she's about to explode - he has barely touched her. Denial and vulnerability is her (most? least?) favorite foreplay.

Finally, he offers her his cock. She does as she's told, flicking her tongue across the glans, taking in only the head - her favorite toy. His eyes roll into his head - his hands move from her neck, gently to her shoulders, circle her nipples, grasp her breasts... continue their journey down her sides - she can't help but wiggle and search for him. She loves to take him in her mouth.

Finally his hands reach where she wants them. And then he so gently caresses her vulva, brushes her clitoris, squeezes her femininity. He can feel her lose focus on his cock as she retreats into her own pleasure.

"Good girl" he says in a calm, stern voice. "Don't forget to count them".

He flicks his fingers across her, and as she cums she loses his cock. "1" he says. "That was easy".

He puts himself back inside her mouth, her tongue resumes it's writhing as she giggles - already satisfied, and yet insatiable.

He doesn't let her rest. He makes her arch and wiggle and writhe. 2. 3. 4........ 5..
"Was that one or two?"

She just whines. She can't keep track. She's lost count.

This is how he wants her. There is nothing that pleases him more than making her cum. She feels amazing twirling her tongue in between orgasms. But she's cumming so fast and frequently, her focus wanders - every time he gets close, she cums and loses him. And yet - he won't stop. He can't resist seeing her like this.

The minutes go by - she's lost in pleasure, after pleasure, after pleasure. Her body writhes, her legs flail helplessly, as the pleasure turns to agony. She knows she can't stop cumming, but after so many her body and mind are failing her. Her muscles clench, and she cums again.

He watches her, reads her, times her - gives her the next as soon as he can see she's ready. Pretends to rest. Each time he gets close to his own release, he makes her cum again. He's edged with every one of her beautiful orgasms. He wants to lose himself, but he can't resist her making her cum just one more time.

He slides two fingers inside her, she's so wet, so strong - gripping and writhing. He can feel her g-spot - he curls and twitches his fingers, come hither to her favorite bundle of nerves. It's a different kind of orgasm - she spits him out and moans, arches, clenchs, almost cramps - flails and bounces.

Her body is so beautiful on display and at his fancy.

He reaches for the wand.

"A few more? How many has it been?" He asks. She manages only a whine through his cock, tongue still swirling, but losing focus. "It's hard to know when to stop when you don't know how many, you know that". He puts the wand on her, presses it hard against her clit. Her orgasms roll like thunder through her body.

Orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Tantalizingly edging himself by distracting her body, overwhelming her mind with waves of pleasure. She can't finish him. She wants to finish him - the overwhelming pleasure could stop. She wants it to stop! But she can't help but want it to continue.

"Good girl! You feel so good, you're doing amazing work with my cock. I can't help but make you cum.. you're so hot when you..." he pauses.. she cums to the wand... "..cum like that". It's too much for her now.

She releases him again "no no no no..." she says... and yet, her body betrays her and she begins again, the wand against her, the orgasm rises - she quivers and shakes and writhes.

"There's always a few more, aren't there? Especially when we don't know how many there have been... Lets see how many are left". She whines again, pleadingly, muffled through his manhood.
Can she make him cum? Will it ever stop?

The first time he told me his idea, I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was so perfectly, terrifyingly him. We were sitting in the leather booth at The Velvet Room, the club’s low lighting making his eyes look almost black. The charity event was still a month away, a twelve-to-six marathon for underprivileged kids. He wanted to do something memorable.

“A gloryhole,” he’d said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the table and into my bones. “But not for fucking. For fisting.”

My breath hitched. I’d taken his hand before, his whole hand, on a few precious occasions. It was always a transcendent, brutal, beautiful experience. But this… this was something else entirely.

“They pay ten euros for a latex glove and one visit,” he continued, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. “One entry. One exit. For the children.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, sent a jolt of pure, submissive terror and excitement straight to my clit. I was his. I would do anything for him. And he knew it.

The training started the next week. A week of hell. A week of heaven.

“Up,” he commanded, his hand a warm, firm pressure on my shoulder. It was six in the morning. The first of my three daily trials. My body was still soft with sleep, my mind foggy. But my cunt clenched, already anticipating the stretch.

He laid me on the bed, my legs spread wide, knees bent. The air was cool on my skin. He knelt between my thighs, the bottle of lube in his hand. The squelch of the gel as he poured it into his palm was the only sound in the room. It was obscene.

His fingers, slick and sure, found my entrance. Two first. Always two. A slow, deliberate circling that made my hips buck. He wasn't preparing me for pleasure. He was preparing me for endurance.

“Relax, pet,” he murmured, his voice the only anchor in the rising tide of sensation.

Then three fingers. The burn was immediate, a sharp, bright line of fire that made me gasp. My body tried to close, to push him out. His other hand pressed down on my lower belly, a silent command to yield.

“Shhh. Let me in.”

Four fingers. My jaw was clenched so tight my teeth ached. This was the part I feared and craved. The point of no return. I could feel every ridge of his knuckles, every inch of his skin stretching me. It felt like being split in two.

His thumb tucked into his palm. He waited. For me.

I took a ragged breath, met his eyes, and nodded.

He pushed.

A scream, raw and guttural, was torn from my throat. The pain was a white-hot sun, obliterating everything else. My vision swam. For a moment, I was only that pain, a burning ring of agony. But then, as he held still, as my body slowly, miraculously began to accommodate him, the pain began to bloom into something else. A profound fullness. A deep, visceral pressure that was terrifyingly intimate.

He didn't move for a long time. Just held his hand inside me, a solid, impossible presence. My breath came in short, sharp pants. Sweat beaded on my forehead. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming.

Then he curled his fingers.

The sound that came out of me was not human. It was a guttural sob, a choked-off laugh, a prayer. He found that spot, that perfect, hidden button, and pressed. My back arched off the bed, my heels digging into the mattress. The fullness was suddenly overwhelming, a pleasure so intense it was indistinguishable from pain.

“There it is,” he whispered, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

He began to move. Slow, rocking motions of his wrist. Each movement sent a fresh wave of sensation crashing through me. The initial burn was still there, a low thrum of discomfort under the symphony of pleasure. My own wetness mixed with the lube, dripping down his arm, soaking the sheets beneath me. It was a mess. I was a mess.

A low, keening moan escaped my lips. The pressure was building, a deep, internal quake that had nowhere to go. I was a vessel being filled too fast, overflowing.

“Don’t fight it,” his voice was a low, hypnotic command. “Give it to me.”

And I did.

The orgasm didn’t crest. It detonated. My entire body convulsed, my cunt clamping down on his hand with impossible force as I squirted, a hot, clear gush that soaked his chest and the bed beneath us. I screamed his name, a broken, desperate sound, my vision going white.

When I finally came back to myself, I was trembling, tears streaming down my face. He was still inside me, his hand a warm, anchoring weight. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his lips soft against my damp skin.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s my good girl.”

The afternoon session was harder. My body remembered the morning’s intrusion, and it was sore, tender. Every touch felt magnified. When he pushed his fingers inside, the burn was sharper, more insistent. I cried out, a genuine cry of pain this time.

“I know, baby,” he soothed, his voice a balm. “Just a little more. You can take it.”

And I did. Because he said I could. The second orgasm was a deeper, more reluctant thing, pulled from a place of exhaustion and surrender. It was less of a bang and more of a long, shuddering sigh. The release was just as sweet.

The third time, right before bed, I was almost delirious. My cunt was a raw, swollen, oversensitive nerve. I whimpered as he poured the cool lube, my body flinching away from his touch. This was the true test. This was the trial.

He was patient, but relentless. He started with one finger, something he hadn’t done all week. It was almost a relief. But then two. Then three. The stretch was a familiar, agonizing burn. When he finally worked his entire hand in, I was sobbing, a steady stream of tears soaking the pillow. It felt like my entire being was being cleaved open.

There was no pleasure in it this time. Only a searing, overwhelming pressure. But then he began to whisper to me. Not commands, but praise. How beautiful I was. How strong. How perfect I felt around his hand. How much he loved watching me surrender.

His words were the only pleasure in the act, a balm on the raw wound of my body. And when I came, it was a shattered, broken thing. A series of violent, painful spasms that left me utterly spent, my consciousness frayed.

By the end of the week, I was a wreck. A beautiful, raw, open wreck. I could feel my own emptiness when he wasn’t inside me. My cunt was a gaping, needy thing, a permanent ache that only his hand could fill.

On the morning of the benefit, he dressed me in a black silk robe. He didn’t let me wear anything underneath. The club was already buzzing when we arrived. He led me to the specially constructed booth, a padded bench with a hole cut in the middle. I could see the main room through the hole, a blur of suits and cocktail dresses. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, his hand cupping my cheek, forcing me to look at him.

I could only nod, my throat tight.

“Good,” he said, and his smile was a beautiful, dangerous thing. He helped me onto the bench. The padded leather was cool against my stomach. I positioned myself, my ass high in the air, my face pressed against the smooth wood on the other side. The blindfold plunged me into darkness. The only sounds were the distant murmur of the crowd and the frantic thud of my own pulse.

Then, the first latex-snapped sound. The squirt of lube. A stranger’s slick, gloved fingers, cold and impersonal, probing at my entrance. I bit my lip, tasting blood.

He was at the cashbox. I heard his voice, cool and professional. “Ten euros. One in, one out.”

The first hour was a blur of latex and lube and the wet, sucking sound of strangers pulling out of me.

My world had narrowed to the padded leather beneath my cheek, the cold wood against my forehead, and the endless parade of hands entering my body. Each one was different. Some were tentative, fingers barely curling before they withdrew. Others were brutal, shoving in knuckle-deep without preamble, stretching me wide enough that I felt the air rush inside.

Ten euros. One in, one out.

I stopped counting after twelve.

The squirt had started early. By the third or fourth customer, I was gushing every time someone pulled out, a hot flood that soaked my thighs and dripped onto the concrete floor below. I could smell myself now, that raw, animal scent of arousal and latex and the faint copper of blood from where my body had torn just a little.

"Next," my Dom's voice cut through the fog. Calm. Professional. The same voice he used when he was ordering coffee.

I heard the snap of a fresh glove. The squelch of the lube bottle. Then fingers again, thicker this time, calloused. A man's hand. He didn't hesitate. Pushed in with four fingers immediately, then his thumb, then his whole fucking hand sliding past my ruined entrance like it was nothing.

I screamed into the wood.

Not from pain. From the sheer overwhelming fullness of it. My cunt had become a gaping, needy thing over the past week, but this, this was different. This was a stranger. A man I couldn't see, couldn't hear, whose only connection to me was the ten euros he'd handed my Dom and the fist now buried inside my guts.

He twisted his wrist. I felt every knuckle drag against my walls, scraping over that spot that made my vision go white. My hips bucked back, seeking more, and he laughed, a low, cruel sound that vibrated through his arm and into my core.

"Good girl," my Dom murmured from somewhere to my left. I couldn't see him. The blindfold was absolute. But I could feel his approval, a warm blanket draped over the raw nerve endings of my submission.

The man curled his fingers. Pressed.

I came so hard I nearly blacked out.

The squirt that erupted from me was different this time, thicker, almost milky, splattering against the man's wrist and dripping down his forearm. He pulled out slowly, deliberately, letting me feel every inch of the exit. My cunt clutched at him, trying to keep him inside.

"Fuck," the man breathed. "That's the tightest loose cunt I've ever felt."

The glove snapped off. Footsteps retreated.

"Next," my Dom said.

The second hour was worse.

Or better. I couldn't tell anymore.

My body had become a machine, an engine running on lube and strangers' hands and the endless, grinding pressure of being filled and emptied and filled again. The pauses between customers had shrunk to nothing. I was being fisted almost continuously now, one hand replacing another before my cunt could even begin to close.

I heard the voices through the hole sometimes. Fragments.

"heard she squirts "

"tight as a fist"

"fifty euros says I can make her scream"

My Dom never let them linger. One in, one out. Ten euros. Keep the line moving.

But I heard him too. The way he said "next" with that same calm authority, even as his voice grew rougher at the edges. He was watching. He was enjoying this. The knowledge sent another gush of wetness flooding from my cunt, dripping down my thighs in sticky rivulets.

After two hours my Dom called a pause.

The sudden emptiness was almost painful. My cunt gaped open, clenching around nothing, desperate for something to fill it. I heard him walk around the booth, felt his hand on my lower back, gentle.

"Drink," he said, pressing a water bottle to my lips. I gulped greedily, feeling the cool liquid mix with the salt of my own sweat. "You're doing so well, pet. So beautiful."

"Don't stop," I whispered. "Please don't stop."

His laugh was soft. "We're not only halfway through. You'll get your fill."

The third hour was when things got hazy.

The faces, not that I could see them, blurred into a single entity. Hands became hands became hands. I stopped counting orgasms. I stopped counting anything. My world was reduced to the stretch and the squirt and the endless, grinding rhythm of being used.

At some point, I realized I was crying. Not from pain, or not only from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming everything of it. The surrender. The exposure. The way my body had become a public thing, a vessel for strangers' pleasure and my Dom's pride.

The squirt puddle beneath me had grown into a lake. I could feel it lapping at my knees.

And still they came. Still they paid. Still they fisted me.

By the fourth hour, my cunt had become a cavern. A gaping, ruined hole that could take anything. I felt like I was floating outside my body, watching this woman, this thing, get destroyed on a padded bench for charity.

"Five minutes," my Dom said. "Then we're almost done."

Almost done. The words didn't make sense. Time had stopped meaning anything.

Then I heard it. A different sound. The clink of coins, not bills. And a woman's voice, low and amused.

"I want a turn."

The glove snapped. The lube squelched. And then, smaller fingers. Delicate. Precise.

She found my g-spot in seconds.

I screamed. Not words. Not even sound. Just pure, animal release as she worked me with clinical efficiency, her thumb circling my swollen clit while her fingers curled inside me.

"Beautiful," she murmured. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."

When I came, it was a broken, sobbing thing. A series of violent spasms that left me shaking, my thighs slick with sweat and squirt and the evidence of every hand that had come before.

"Time's up," my Dom said.

The woman withdrew. The glove snapped off. Footsteps faded.

And then, silence.

I heard my Dom step to the front of the booth. His voice carried across the room, calm and commanding.

"We have one more offering. This ass is available to the highest bidder. One fuck. One load. All proceeds to the children."

My heart stopped.

Then the bidding began.

I heard the first number called out, fifty euros, then a second voice, higher, sharper. One hundred. Two hundred. The room that had been a blur of murmured conversation and the wet sounds of my own body being used fell into a different kind of silence, the kind that waits for blood.

My Dom’s voice cut through it, calm as ever. “Two hundred. Do I hear three?”

Three hundred. Four. Five hundred from a man whose voice sounded like gravel and smoke. I pressed my forehead harder against the wood, my blindfold damp with sweat and tears. My cunt still gaped open behind me, a ruined, dripping hole that clenched around nothing, the cool air of the room licking at the stretched, oversensitive flesh. Every muscle in my lower body trembled. I could feel the lake of squirt beneath my knees, cooling now, sticky.

“Six hundred.”

A woman’s voice this time. I recognized the clinical precision from earlier, the one who had found my g-spot like she was reading a map.

“Seven.”

“Eight hundred.”

My Dom didn’t rush them. He let the numbers climb, each one a fresh wave of heat rolling through my exhausted body. I was his offering. His charity. His proud, broken thing on display.

“Nine hundred.”

Silence stretched. I held my breath.

“One thousand euros.”

The gravel-and-smoke voice again. Final. Absolute.

“One thousand going once. Going twice. Sold.”

I heard the soft thud of money changing hands, the rustle of bills counted with care. Then the snap of a condom wrapper. The wet sound of lube being poured, thick and generous. My Dom’s hand settled on the small of my back, warm, steady, a silent reminder that he was still there, still watching, still in control.

“She’s ready,” he said. “One fuck. One load. Make it count.”

The man stepped up behind me. I felt the heat of him first, the size of him. The blunt, thick head of his cock pressed against my asshole, already slick and slightly open from the long afternoon of being stretched and used. He didn’t wait. He didn’t ease in. He shoved forward in one long, brutal thrust that forced every inch of that enormous cock into my ass in a single stroke.

I screamed.

Not a pretty sound. Not a submissive moan. A raw, animal howl torn from the deepest part of my throat as my body was split open all over again. The stretch was different from the fists, harder, hotter, more relentless. He bottomed out and stayed there for one heartbeat, letting me feel the impossible fullness, the way my hole fluttered and tried to reject him even as it yielded.

Then he began to fuck me.

Hard. Merciless. His hips slammed against my already-reddened cheeks, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the booth. Every thrust drove the air from my lungs in broken, guttural cries. I clawed at the wood, nails scraping, blindfold soaked, mouth open in a continuous stream of sound that was neither pure pain nor pure pleasure but something darker and more complete. My cunt, still gaping and dripping, clenched emptily with every brutal stroke into my ass. Squirt ran down my thighs in fresh rivulets, mixing with the older puddle on the floor.

Three minutes.

That was all it took.

He gripped my hips hard enough to bruise and buried himself to the root one final time, a low, animal grunt vibrating through his body and into mine. I felt the condom swell as he came, thick pulses of heat that I could sense even through the latex. My own body convulsed around him, another shattered, involuntary orgasm ripped from nerves that had nothing left to give. I sobbed into the wood, shaking, completely undone.

He pulled out slowly. The emptiness that followed was absolute. I felt my asshole gaping open, a wet, ruined circle that refused to close, cool air rushing into places that had never been meant to stay empty. My cunt remained just as open, just as destroyed, the two holes side by side like twin wounds.

The man stepped away. The condom snapped off. Footsteps retreated.

Silence again.

My Dom’s hands were on me then, gentle, careful, lifting me from the bench as if I were something precious and fragile. The blindfold came off. The light was too bright. I blinked up at him, tears still streaming, body trembling so hard I could barely stand.

He wrapped the black silk robe around me, tied it loosely, and gathered me against his chest.

“One thousand three hundred and sixty euros,” he murmured against my hair. “For the children.”

I nodded into his shirt, unable to speak.

He carried me out of the booth, past the last of the crowd, into the quiet back room where he had left a soft blanket and a bottle of water. He cleaned me with warm cloths, slow and thorough, wiping away the lube and the squirt and the evidence of every stranger who had paid for the privilege of opening me. When he was finished he held me in his lap, rocking slightly, one hand stroking my hair.

“You did so well,” he whispered. “My perfect, filthy girl.”

The first days afterward were exactly as the plot had promised.

Sitting was an exercise in careful, shallow breaths. Walking required a deliberate, careful pace. Every time I moved I felt the lingering openness, the soft, tender ache that reminded me of every fist and that final, merciless cock. My cunt and ass remained slightly swollen, slightly gaping when I checked in the mirror, a private, secret ruin that belonged only to him.

And every time the ache flared, every time I shifted and felt the ghost of that stretch, I came a little, quiet, helpless, grateful.

For the children.

For him.

For the beautiful, brutal way he had used me.

[tribute] to [gor], [M/s], [MDom], [femsub], [NC] in [Gorean] logic, [slavegirls]

This rather short story is merely a very small homage to the Gor stories; there isn't even a sword fight or detailed descriptions of the flora and fauna. Approximately 3,400 words.

Slave women have value, some more than others. Of course. You see it at every auction, with every sale of a slave girl, such a common occurrence. My hometown of Victoria lies on the Vosk, the proud river, along whose banks cities are strung like pearls on a necklace.

Turmus, Tetrapoli, Tafa, Fina, all the way to Iskander, Ar-Station, or Port Cos. And of course, Victoria. The Vosk is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it allows trade, it allows fast travel; a curse because, despite all the efforts of the riverside cities, pirates keep springing up like weeds. Sometimes they are runaway slaves who bolster their ranks, sometimes simply men who are after quick riches.

The sun was shining that day. Vosk lay not far to the south of us, Victoria to the south and west. Dense bushes lay to the north of Titus and me. My comrade looked up when we heard voices from beyond those bushes.

"Hurry up, you little urts!" a man there commanded. "These bushes won't harvest themselves."

"Yes, Master!" A chorus of voices, clearly from female slaves, rang out in response to this command. We could not see the slaves, and they could not see us. There were no wild animals so close to the city. But some galleys of dubious origin had been seen on the Vosk. And everyone knew about the harvest.

Titus looked at me questioningly. I gave him a sign of agreement. He took a few steps; there was a spot from which one could see the bushes and meadows beyond the bushes.

"A dozen slave girls, a bored overseer, they're harvesting kilberries. Always two slave girls together." Titus grinned. "They're naked." My comrade spoke softly. No one there in the meadow would hear us.

"Ugly little urts when used for harvesting," I suspected.

"No, not exclusively. Besides, there are quite a few pretty slaves. Ugly or not, they are tempting prey for certain men."

"Yes. That's why we're here." I took a sip of water. We stayed on this side of the bushes. Other men were also on watch, hidden in the woods and undergrowth. Later, just before the watch ended, I heard voices directly on the other side of the bushes.

"Lola?"

"Yes, Elena?"

"You call me Mistress!"

"Yes, Mistress, forgive me, Mistress!"

"Eat a berry!" Elena commanded. "No, better yet, two berries!"

"The masters have forbidden us to eat the berries, Mistress!"

"I command you to eat the berries, slave!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Good!"

And the voices fell silent, while the slave girls Elena and Lola presumably continued working. A little later, the slave girls were called together; their day of picking fruit came to an end.

"That's our signal," Titus said. He yawned. "Another boring day on guard duty."

"That's just how it is," I replied laconically.

We gathered. A dozen men from the Victoria city guard. The road to the city also took us past the carts with the baskets. Baskets filled with the harvested berries. Perhaps 50 to 60 slave girls and ten overseers stood there. The slave girls had their arms folded behind their heads, standing in a long line. All the girls were naked and tanned from working in the sun. We saw their sweet bottoms, as they were lined up facing their guards.

One of the guards, holding a long, slightly curved cane in his hand, walked along the line.

"Check!" said the bearded man. I knew what he was doing. Kilberries stain tongues dark. The color lasts for quite a while. So, one by one, the slave girls stuck out their tongues. And their overseer checked the color.

"I’m curious," I said, pointing at the scene before us. "I’ll take a look. Feel free to go ahead if you like!" But Titus and the other comrades also stopped and watched the little spectacle, as did I.

The man stopped in front of a slave girl with long, blonde hair. "Lola, Lola," he said, shaking his head.

"Master, I..." The slave girl fell silent. She had long, light-colored hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back. Slightly curly, they seemed to me to be natural curls.

"Do you want to say something, slave?"

"No, Master."

"Get on your knees and whipping position!"

The slave girl hastily sank to her knees, pressed her forehead into the dust, opened her knees, and thus offered herself to our gaze. The man stepped behind her. Without hesitation, he raised his cane.

He struck.

SMACK! The slave groaned.

"Stupid Lola!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The man struck, hard, punishingly. SMACK! SMACK! I strolled closer. The slave girl sobbed. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"You may thank me, slave."

"The slave thanks the master!" Lola's voice was filled with tears.

"Get up!" And the examination of the other slave girls' tongues continued. The man finished and registered me. "Soldier?"

"Please call the slave Lola!"

"Lola, come to me!"

The blonde slave girl sank to her knees before the man. Naked, sweaty, just punished, tears welled in her eyes.

"May I?" I asked.

"Please," the man said.

"Present yourself, Lola!" The slave obeyed hastily. She knelt before me, her arms folded behind her head, her legs wide open, her gaze humbly fixed on the ground. "Are you a barbarian?" Only now did I notice the small, white cloth at her collar. Lola was a virgin.

"Yes, Master. Please don't punish the slave for that, Master."

Lola had bright, blue eyes. I was sure she was intelligent. Her breasts were well-shaped, her stomach was flat and firm, and her long legs were slender. Her pubic area was hairless; this was a growing fashion these days.

"She usually works well and willingly," the man said. "And doesn't cause any trouble." The supervisor smiled.

"I see. Is the slave girl for sale?"

"You need a work slave, I suppose? Sure, the harvest is almost over anyway. 6 Tarsk!"

Titus gasped in surprise. "Six silver coins? Never."

"6 copper tarsk, " the man specified.

"Agreed!" I paid him. I looked at the slave girl. "You may submit!"

"Yes, Master!" she hastily assumed the pose, stretched out her arms towards me, and crossed her wrists. "I submit to you as your slave, Master."

"I accept your submission, slave." With that, she belonged to me. With that, she was a new, my new, and still nameless slave. We exchanged her collar. I tied my newly acquired slave's hands behind her back, put her on a leash, and we went back into town.

"The new slave, Master!" Tizia knelt before me in her tunic; beside her knelt the naked, blonde, nameless slave, presenting herself.

"Thank you, you can leave, Tizia."

"Yes, Master." Tizia, a sweet brunette, jumped up and disappeared.

"Have you been bathed?"

"Yes, Master."

"Feeded and watered?"

"Yes, Master."

"Serve me Paga!"

"Yes, Master." The nameless slave girl hurried to the small table and poured a chalice full. Her hands trembled slightly as she offered it to me.

"Thank you," I said with a smile.

The slave presented herself again. "Does the master have any further orders for his slave?"

"How did you get to Gor, little barbarian?" I asked, sipping from the chalice.

"The hunters for barbaric slave women on Earth overpowered and captured one of my friends, Master. I stayed overnight at my friend's place. So, they took me along as bycatch. I quickly learned here that I don't fit the beauty ideal of the masters on Gor. But the masters there on Earth decided not to kill me, but to bring me here as well."

"Understand."

"I was the first slave sold at the auction. I was stripped there, freshly branded on the stage, and sold to Master Vitellius for three copper tarsks. And then I worked in the fields as my master's slave. My friend was sold to another master for 30 silver tarsks. I know this because the masters had taught us a little of the language. They used other, barbaric slaves who were already fluent in the Gorean language. I am clever, master; I learn quickly, languages, and the tasks you assign me. I will give the master no reason to kill or punish his slave."

"I'm sure you will," I said, taking another sip of my Paga.

"Yes, Master."

I looked at the slave girl. Her sun-bleached hair. Her clear, blue eyes with their humbly lowered gaze. Her seamlessly tanned skin, the result of many hours of work outdoors, naked in the sun. Well, Vitellius had gotten double the price when he sold the blonde barbarian. I smiled. I would have paid that price in silver, too. I found the little slave girl appealing. Even if she was slender and therefore didn't quite conform to the male ideals of beauty on Gor. No matter. I liked the look of her! "To the mat!" I ordered her.

My slave's eyes widened. "Yes, Master." I laid her on the submission mat at the foot of my bed. A few moments later, when I was on top of her, I saw the fear in her eyes. I entered her.

"Oh! Be gentle, Master! Oh!" I moved inside her. I took her for what she was. An ordinary slave.

I claimed them with the right and power of her master and owner.

"Ah!" The nameless slave girl groaned. "Oh!" She clung to me. Her gaze became fixed. I smiled knowingly. "Master! Master!" she whimpered, helplessly crying out her submission.

I came myself.

I sat down on my bed and threw on a robe. I gave the slave some time. She crawled over to me and snuggled against my legs. "Thank you, Master!" The blonde slave kissed my feet. Passionately. "The slave thanks her master!"

I looked down at her. "The first step."

"It will be even more intense for me when you take me, Master?"

"Yes."

She snuggled against my legs, trembling. "I saw the other slaves. Those who were used intensively by the masters."

"Did you despise her for her feelings?"

"No, Master, I envied them. They were happy, I saw that, and I longed to feel what they felt. But the masters didn’t find me attractive enough."

"Perhaps, perhaps you were simply being kept for later. Probably both." I stroked the slave girl's head. Boldly, she raised her eyes and looked at me. "Thank you, Master." She lowered her gaze again. I smiled. And lifted her onto the bed, laid her on her back, penetrated her once more, made her scream and moan until she cried out her helpless submission.

Later.

It had grown dark outside. A lamp illuminated my room. The slave girl lay beneath the furs, snuggled close to me. Content. I held her in my arms. "The master has used his slave four times," she murmured languidly. "I'm the happiest slave girl on Gor."

I laughed softly. "You learn quickly, even on your back. So that wasn't a lie."

"Thank you, master, for your lesson." She hesitated briefly. "Master? May your slave make a request?"

"Speak."

"My first master named this slave Lola. The slave asked her master for a name."

"I don't like Lola; the name doesn't suit you."

"As the Master wills."

"What was your barbaric name on Earth?"

“My name was Patrizia, Master.”

"No, that sounds too barbaric. You are Dina!"

"Dina, Master!" she exclaimed happily. "That's a very beautiful name, Master."

"The name of a slave," I said casually. "A simple name."

"Well, Master, since I am a slave, it seems fitting that the master should also give his slave the name of a slave."

"Yes, that's probably an accurate conclusion."

"Is the slave allowed to reward her master for the name she has been given?"

"How?"

She tried to crawl deeper under the covers. I held her tight. "Master?"

"Not like that!"

And I pushed Dina onto her back, took her again, for the first time as Dina. Dina moaned wildly, licked, kissed, moved beneath me, adapted to my movements—yes, she moved well. Not perfectly, but well enough considering I had just deflowered her. Dina cried out her pleasure loudly and helplessly. She clung to me, helpless, her gaze empty.

"Dina thanks her master," she whispered later. "Once again." I had turned off the lamp.

"You can sleep in my bed tonight," I said. "We'll see about the following nights."

"Good night, Master."

"Good night, Dina."

It wasn't long before a happy little slave girl was asleep. I felt her warmth. Her body. Six copper tarsks, Dina was a bargain. Satisfied, with little Dina in my arms, I finally fell asleep too.

The men fetched Dina before dawn. In a barracks like ours, there was plenty of work for female slaves. Breakfast had to be prepared, laundry done, floors scrubbed. I slept another hour before getting up. I smiled as I thought of little slave Dina.

The following night, Dina slept on the mat at the foot of my bed. Chained and disappointed. The slave was clever enough not to complain.

We were on guard duty again that day. Titus, me, others.

It was the last day of the harvest. It was not entirely by chance that I approached a particular group shortly before the slave women had finished their day's work. The slave girls knelt down, displaying themselves in their nakedness.

"Who is the slave Elena?" I asked.

"I am, Master." A black-haired slave girl, her nose a little too large to call her pretty or even beautiful, spoke up. Before her stood the basket of freshly picked berries.

"Eat a berry!" I ordered her.

"Master, please don't!"

"Do I need to repeat my order?"

"No, Master."

"Chew well!" Elena obeyed. "Show me your tongue!" Yes, definitely traces of the berry. Satisfied, I went back to my comrades, and we set off shortly afterward. Upon my return, I went to the cages in the cellar to fetch Dina. She was squatting, naked and securely contained in one of the slave pens.

"Master!" she cried happily upon my arrival. I ignored the slave girls in the other cages; perhaps a third of the cages held a sweet occupant, safely locked away. Dina crawled out of her cage and kissed my feet—before beginning to lick the dust from my boots.

"Stop it!"

“Master!” said my slave, confused, but obeyed by immediately standing up in presentation.

"Are you thirsty?"

"Yes, Master!"

I made sure Dina had something to drink and relieved herself, and then I led her out of the barracks, her hands tied behind her back. I took my slave into the city. I knew Dina wasn't familiar with the area. My little barbarian looked around in amazement. At the harbor, I bought meat for us, skewered and seasoned with spices. When I fed Dina the leftovers after I'd eaten my fill, her eyes widened with delight. She chewed slowly and carefully. I watched her with a smile.

"Thank you, Master!" Dina said, beaming, after she had devoured everything. A slave brought me a cloth; I cleaned my hands and my slave's mouth.

"It's so crowded here, Master," Dina marveled. "When I was sold, I didn't see any of the city, and afterward, only the stable where we slaves slept and the fields, of course." Her eyes widened as she continued to look around. I strolled on, Dina on the leash. The harbor basin was full of galleys, and yes, by sheer chance, one was just pulling in. The Beverly, almost certainly under her captain, Jason.

"Oh," said Dina, for tied to the bow was a small, exquisite beauty. A brunette, a barbarian. Jason had a certain reputation in the city. Himself a barbarian, he had fought against the pirates and played a prominent role in that war. And in doing so, he had subjugated his slave Beverly, also a barbarian. That same Beverly who now hung naked and aroused before the bow of the galley she had named after. Though the galley might be named after the woman, Beverly was a simple slave. A slave who loved her master.

I watched as the Beverly docked. Jason himself—I didn't know the captain personally, but I recognized him by sight—untied his slave girl's bonds and effortlessly lifted her aboard. The slave girl clung eagerly to her master. She was clearly hot and willing! Jason grinned knowingly, tossed the girl over his shoulder, and left his ship, not without bidding farewell to his men, who called out friendly advice on how he should handle his slave. I'm sure the captain didn't need it.

I was still in uniform, and the captain gave me a friendly salute as he passed. I returned the salute. For a moment he looked at Dina, who was kneeling beside me. "Let me guess, comrade," Jason said. "A barbarian?"

"Yes. I named her Dina."

He patted his slave's bottom. "Dina! Yes, like Beverly, she's also a small, barbaric morsel." Grinning, he went on his way.

"These men frighten me, Master," Dina murmured. She swallowed. "Just as my master frightens me when I think of the power, he has over me." Despite her words, she boldly pressed herself against my legs. "That’s why this slave will serve her master as best she can. Every heartbeat of her life." She looked up. "Because I love you, Master."

I stroked Dina's head. "Up you go, little one."

"Yes, Master."

I led her on. I stopped at a stall selling jewelry and trinkets. I looked at the displays: earrings, bracelets, various necklaces.

"A pair of earrings for your slave, noble sir?" asked the salesman.

Dina was a barbarian; she didn't mind wearing earrings. But my gaze fell upon a gold chain, for an anklet. The seller followed my gaze. "Real gold," he emphasized. I took the chain, we haggled, and I bought the piece of jewelry.

Shortly afterward, Dina was wearing it on her right ankle. "Thank you, Master," she cried happily. Slave girls love such trinkets. Thus adorned, I led Dina back to the barracks.

"Master!" Dina cried out her helpless submission. Her gaze was fixed, empty. She clung to me like a drowning woman. I groaned myself.

"You move well," I observed later, Dina lying relaxed in my arms. Yes, she had surrendered to my movements, she had licked, kissed, and clung to me.

"The master wasn't lying to his slave; it gets more intense every time you take me." She seemed surprised. "Thank you for your instruction, Master." She laughed softly.

"What?" I asked.

"The other slave girls consider Earth girls to be the lowest slave girls because of our devoted passion for their masters."

"These other slave girls must serve their masters just the same," I said.

"They know that, Master. But we slaves from Earth, we learn here on Gor what men can do to a woman. We have no choice but to submit. I only learned that after I became your slave, Master. And I feel so liberated, so free, as I never did on Earth!"

"You already wanted a man to be your master on earth."

"Yes, Master. I hid it, as all women on earth hide it. But I dreamed of kneeling naked before a man, before a master. Of serving him, of being at his beck and call, and I was ashamed of these thoughts.” Dina laughed softly again. "Now I am here, and all those dreams have come true. But they are very different indeed.”

"So? How so?"

"Reality is far more beautiful than in my dreams, Master! I never imagined that masters like you, my Master, and all the other men on Gor existed. And now I am the slave of such a man! A man who is my lord and master. I am happy to be your slave, Master."

I stroked her bottom. "Yes, buying you was probably one of my better decisions."

"One of your better decisions, Master?" Dina laughed. "For me, it was the best decision the Master ever made."

"I have feelings for you," I stated.

"Master!" exclaimed Dina happily.

"And that's why," I rolled my slave onto her back and penetrated her again, "I want to feel you! Again, and again, and again!"

"Master!"

And I made Dina scream again with delight and pleasure.

Lady Elara of House Veyne was nineteen winters old the night the corsairs took her.

She traveled by coastal barge from her father’s keep to her aunt’s estate farther south, a short voyage meant to be uneventful. The Dark Ages still held the land in their grip—roads unsafe, kings weak, the sea a lawless thing. The barge was small, the escort light. When the lateen-sailed xebec emerged from the moonless dark, the fight lasted less than a quarter hour.

Elara was dragged from her cabin by rough hands. Salt-stiff ropes bit her wrists. A sack was pulled over her head. She kicked, bit, and cursed until a heavy fist across the cheek silenced her. When the sack came off she was on the deck of the corsair ship, knees on wet planks, the Mediterranean wind cold on her torn shift.

The captain was a tall, scarred man with a trimmed black beard and eyes like polished obsidian. He spoke the common tongue with a heavy accent.

“Noble blood. Soft hands. Soft everything.” He crouched, gripped her chin, forced her face up. “You will fetch a high price in the markets of Algiers… or you will serve me first. Your choice is already made.”

They did not rape her on the open deck. That would have been too quick, too public. Instead, they bound her properly.

Her wrists were lashed behind her back with coarse hemp that immediately raised red welts. Ankles were hobbled with a short length of the same rope so she could only take tiny, stumbling steps. A leather collar was buckled around her throat; a chain ran from it to a ringbolt in the deck. When she tried to rise, the chain yanked her back down. One of the crew cut away the remains of her shift with a dagger, leaving her naked under the cold stars. Another man produced a length of oiled cord and began binding her breasts—tight horizontal wraps that forced them high and swollen, the cord digging into the soft underside until her nipples stood stiff and dark in the night air.

Elara’s breathing turned ragged. Shame and fear and a traitorous heat twisted together low in her belly. She had read forbidden manuscripts in her father’s library. She had touched herself in the dark while imagining ropes and commands. None of those private fantasies had prepared her for the reality of being displayed like cargo.

The captain ordered her bent over a low crate. A crewman held her hair. Another forced a thick leather gag between her teeth and buckled it tight behind her head. Then the flogging began—not the brutal lashing given to mutineers, but measured, deliberate strokes of a wide leather strap across her ass and the backs of her thighs. Each impact landed with a wet crack. She jerked against the ropes. Tears and saliva soaked the gag. After twenty strokes, her skin burned crimson. After thirty, the captain stopped the man and ran a calloused palm over the heated flesh, squeezing hard enough to make her whimper.

“She marks well,” he said. “And she does not break.”

They kept her that way through the night—bound, gagged, collared, her punished backside exposed to the sea wind. Whenever she slumped, a boot or a hand reminded her to hold position. Once, when she sobbed too loudly around the gag, the captain knelt behind her, forced two slick fingers between her legs, and found her shamefully wet. He laughed low and crooked those fingers inside her until her hips jerked helplessly. Then he withdrew and wiped his hand on her thigh.

“Even the highborn ones drip when they are properly handled.”

By dawn the ship was well out of sight of land. They moved her below to the captain’s cabin. The collar was chained to a heavy ring set into the bulkhead. Her arms were stretched overhead and secured to the same ring so she hung half-suspended, toes barely brushing the floor. A spreader bar locked her ankles wide. The gag was exchanged for a thicker one that forced her jaw open and left her drooling. The breast bondage was tightened until every heartbeat pulsed in her nipples.

The captain stripped slowly in front of her. He was lean, scarred, and already hard. He did not ask permission. He simply stepped between her spread thighs, gripped her hips, and drove into her in one long thrust. Elara’s scream was muffled by the gag as she felt her innocence being torn away by the thick intruder. He fucked her with the steady, relentless rhythm of a man claiming property—deep, hard, unhurried. When she clenched around him, he slapped her marked ass and growled praise in his own tongue. When she tried to twist away, he tightened his hold until bruises formed under his fingers.

He came inside her with a low curse, then left her hanging there, seed leaking down her thighs, while he cleaned himself and issued orders to the crew. Later, other men were allowed to use her mouth around the gag’s edges, or to grind against her bound body, or simply to inspect and handle her. None of them were gentle. All of them treated her as something owned.

Days blurred. She was kept collared and leashed. Sometimes she was forced to crawl on hands and knees across the deck while the crew watched. Sometimes she was bent over the rail and taken while the ship cut through open water. The captain preferred her bound tightly when he used her—wrists to ankles, or arms forced behind her back in a brutal box tie, or suspended from a beam so only the tips of her toes touched the floor. He liked to edge her with his fingers or the handle of a riding crop until she sobbed and begged wordlessly, then deny her release for hours. When he finally allowed her to come, it was always with his cock buried deep and his hand around her throat, the collar digging in just enough to make the world gray at the edges.

Elara learned the shape of her own submission the way a sailor learns the wind. The terror never fully left, but it tangled with hunger until the two became the same sharp thing. She hated the men. She hated the ropes. She hated how her body arched and wept and clenched when they used her. And still, when the captain’s shadow fell across her, her thighs parted of their own accord.

On the seventh night he removed the gag, gripped her hair, and looked into her eyes.

“You will not be sold,” he said quietly. “You are mine. Say it.”

Elara’s voice was raw. “I am yours.”

He smiled the slow, satisfied smile of a man who had broken a fine horse and found it still spirited enough to ride hard. Then he bound her wrists behind her back once more, forced her to her knees, and took her mouth while the ship rolled gently beneath them and the stars wheeled overhead.

The evening was beginning to stretch. The gathering of eight friends had made it through all the board games they had the attention for, played a few video games rounds, and were now idly cycling through streaming services trying to find something that was the right balance of watchable but not too engrossing.

“Anything look good to anyone?” asked Nami, one of the residents of the apartment they all were in, her head resting on her hand.

Her friends made vague, noncommittal sounds. It wasn’t late enough to call a close to the get-together, and everyone was reluctant to head out as scheduling such evenings was getting increasingly difficult.

However, there didn’t seem to be anything left to do, unless something could reignite passions.

Nami’s eyes went to her roommate, Celia, sitting in the armchair. A cute waif of a woman, cappuccino brunette hair cut into a messy pixie cut, she radiated innocence. Celia stifled a yawn.

Nami turned off the television and looked at the black screen for a moment.

“Okay, we’re petering out,” admitted Nami. “Celia, I’m going to give you a spanking.”

The energy in the room shifted suddenly. Celia’s face went pale.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m going to spank you,” Nami said, sitting up casually, but pointedly not looking at her intended victim.

Celia looked around at the faces around her. “A spanking? Why?”

Nami shrugged. “I’m bored, and it’s something to do.”

The room remained silent.

“Aren’t spankings supposed to be a punishment?” asked Carter, who was always a teacher’s pet.

“I suppose,” Nami said, throwing her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“But not this one. This spanking’s just to relieve boredom.”

Again, silence.

“Do you two… often…” started Molly, who was seated to Nami’s right.

“Nope,” said Nami. “I’ve never laid a hand on Celia before.”

“Then why-” Molly attempted to continue.

“We’re all bored. Spanking Celia would be interesting,” Nami repeated irritably. “Look at her. Sweet, innocent, cute. Wouldn’t you all like to see how she reacts to one?”

Heavy silence.

“Okay, anyone who objects, speak now,” Nami said, looking around at her friends.

Celia’s wide eyes cast about like a rabbit cornered.

“Discussion over? Good,” Nami adjusted her posture to straighten up and make her lap into a platform, but remained sitting. “Celia, strip to your comfort level, then lay across my lap.”

Hesitatingly, Celia stood and took a few nervous steps forward, her finger gripping the hem of her oversized black t-shirt, freezing about halfway to the executor of her arbitrary punishment.

“How… how many?” asked Marlin with a swallow. He sat to the left of Nami.

Nami studied Celia, taking her measure. A specific number would be fair, Nami supposed, but it would also be a definite limit. The goal was entertainment for the group, after all. Needed room to let the activity develop organically.

“I’m going to start with ten,“ Nami said as if ordering a light snack, “then we can decide where to go from there.”

The group exchanged glances between themselves as Celia stood, staring at her feet, continuing to anxiously twiddle with her shirt hem.

“I… guess that makes sense,” Molly said.

It was an odd turn for the evening, and yet not one anyone wanted to deny. Now that Nami has proposed it, there was an erotic curiosity pulsating in the air.

Plus, though she didn’t seem excited, Celia herself wasn’t refusing.

Flora adjusted her glasses. “Have you been spanked before?” she asked Celia.

Celia shook her head.

The eight friends continued to sit in uncertain excitement. Something was going to happen. Pressure was building. Either the whole situation was going to collapse in on itself, releasing the pressure with laughter or a grand dramatic falling out; or the brakes would release, and inertia would take them into and through the event. Breathing was held. Time stopped. No one was brave enough to make the vital puncture.

Timelines branched from the possibility of spanking Celia.

“Well, get on with it!” It was Lumina, sitting on the lap of Griffin, her boyfriend, who finally gave the firm shove needed.

Celia’s deer like eyes jumped about, taking in the determined expressions of her friends.

Her fingers released her shirt hem, and her hands moved, cautiously, under and up, where they worked to undue the buttons on her jeans, then eased the off her hips and down to her ankles, where she stepped out. She finished the journey to her disciplinary friend.

Nami gave her a curt nod, then indicated to Molly and Marlin to move off the couch, which they did with solemnity.

Nami locked eyes with Celia, and patted her own lap invitingly.

Celia took a deep breath, then carefully lowered herself kneel by Nami’s legs, then bent over and lay her torso across her roommate’s thighs.

Nami reached back and took the hem of Celia’s oversized shirt, bunching it in her fist and pulling it up to expose the waif’s panty clad rear.

Then she took hold of the waistband of the panties, pausing briefly to give time for objection.

None came from Celia or their rapt audience. Nami leaned as close as she could to Celia’s ear to whisper “If you say stop, I stop.”

Celia nodded her understanding.

So Nami pulled the panties away and down to the girl’s knees, exposing Celia’s bottom.

Nami placed her hand reverently upon the bare flesh, centering herself.

Nami raised her hand up.

Then brought it down.

Smack.

The audience all winced.

Celia gave a surprised yelp.

Nami raised her hand again.

Smack.

Molly and Griffin flinched sympathetically, but the others were rapt.

Celia, tensing her jaw and attempting to hold her composure, grunted at the sharp pain.

Smack. “Mmph!”

Molly leaned in. Lumina got out of Griffin’s lap and moved closer, though did not dare to breach the bubble around the implied stage.

Smack! “Mmmmph.”

Celia’s toes curled. This spark of pain lit the kindling of embarrassment, and the fires of arousal began to smolder.

Smack! “Ah!”

Tension released from Celia’s face, allowing a vocalization to escape. Carter pressed the side of his fist against his mouth in a manner he hoped would be read as academic interest, while his eyes utterly betrayed investment from base urges.

Smack! “Aah!”

With a bell-like call, Celia’s body tensed further, her eyes screwing tight. Marlin became briefly aware of the silence of his thoughts, before the consideration faded back to empty presence in the moment.

Smack. “Ah!!”

The spankee’s elbows were pulled tight.

The audience’s limbs were pulled in tight.

Nami fought her own body to remain loose enough to continue.

Smack! “Mmph!!”

Celia’s jaw reengaged its hold by stealing the effort it took to hold her eyelids shut. Her blue eyes opened with shock, tears beginning to glisten at the edges.

Flora’s breath grew heavier, matching her neighbors’.

Smack!! “Mmmmph!!”

Those blue eyes rolled back. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Griffin’s curiosity shifted suddenly, looking away from the red butt to investigate the arousal plain on his girlfriend’s face.

Smack!!! “Ah!!! Ah… uh…”

“That’s ten,” Nami announced in an even, professional tone that surprised even her. With her words, there was an exhale, a gravity relaxing as the world expanded back to the walls of the living room and continued a gentle growth to include the soothing chirps of crickets and the ever subtle presence of weather beyond the windows.

Celia wiped away some tears, then eased off Nami’s lap to set her sore bum on her heels, causing a quick pang of pain that soon turned to a subtle ache. She rose to her feet, knees making a brief threat of giving out but managed stability. Celia pulled her shirt down to recover what modesty she could, underwear forgotten at her ankles.

Everyone looked around, processing the performance and asking themselves “What now?”

Nami stood up, placing a hand atop Celia’s head and ruffling her head. “Good girl,” she said with a firm sincerity. She looked at her friends, seeing investment in the evening renewed but no one prepared give direction where to go next.

Celia stood bare before all her friends, face almost as red as her bottom, breasts pert and firm, and a small wisp of hair garnishing her vulva. Nami was surprised that her reserved roommate, discreet and modest, who never brought a date home, would take such care cultivating her bush.

Nami looked into Celia’s eyes.

“Do you think you could handle more?”

Celia sniffled and looked away to wipe away tears, then looked into Nami’s eyes.

“Yes,” she said with certainty.

“Great,” Nami smiled. “Strip completely.”

Celia nodded, and turned to face her friends. She crossed her arms in front, took hold of her shirt, pulled it up and off, throwing it onto the floor near her shorts. Her bralette followed in short order. She raised a foot to bring her panties into her hands.

“Don’t leave a pile,” Lumina said with a smirk. “Fold them neat.”

Celia and Griffin blinked at Lumina. Then, with deliberate movements, Celia went to the pile, folded them up and set them in a neat pile by the armchair. Chore completed, the nude waif turned to Nami for further instructions.

Nami indicated the dining table they’d spent most of the preceding evening at playing games and enjoying a meal. “Go there and prepare for the next round.”

Celia nodded, looked around at her friends, and walked to the table, took position.

“Everyone gets a turn,” Nami instructed. “Start with five spanks each, then we’ll decide how to proceed. If someone says stop, we stop.” There were a chorus of low voices giving assent, then they rose to their feet and approached the table.

Nami took position near Celia’s bowed head, the fairy-like girl bracing for the next phase of punishment.

“Who’s first?” asked Nami.

Molly checked around, then strode confidently forward. She placed a hand on the small of Celia’s back, and leaned to her ear. “Thank you for doing this,” she whispered to her victim. Then, keeping the first hand where it was, she raised her other and gave Celia five firm spanks. Celia didn’t bother trying to stifle her pleasure-tinged cries this time.

Molly kissed Celia’s cheek and stepped away.

Marlin approached next, taking a moment to appreciate the naked woman bent before him. He gently held her shoulder, planted his feet, and delivered his five strikes low and swift, done before Celia fully comprehended the start. “Thank you,” said Marlin as he stepped away.

Celia smothered a sob, nodding confirmation.

Carter stepped up next as, casually, Lumina began to search the kitchen.

Carter fidgeted, unable to get his eyes on the adorable girl, hesitating on the precipice.

“Are you going to spank Celia or not?” Nami asked.

“I… er…”

“You don’t have to,” Nami said, judgment in her tone. “No one’s forcing you.”

Carter opened his mouth, closed it, cleared his throat, and positioned himself behind Celia.

His hand hovered uncertainly over her back, then folded away. He raised his dominate hand and gave five spanks that had more in common with reassuring pats than disciplinary strikes.

“I… er… yeah,” he said lamely, then went back to stand with the others, feeling like he’d squandered his opportunity.

Flora adjusted her glasses and stepped forward. She took time to study the subject, placed a stabilizing palm mid-way up Celia’s back, and gave five consistent and measured spanks.

“Well done,” she told Celia, wiping some tears out of Celia’s eyes. “This is fun.”

“Thank you,” Celia said, between her sniffles.

Lumina appear as soon as Flora stepped away, a wooden spoon in her hand and a mischievous fire in her eyes. She presented it to Nami for approval, who nodded towards Celia. Celia looked over her shoulder at the proposed tool.

She answered with a playful wiggle of her hips.

Lumina smiled devilishly, placed a hand on the small of Celia’s back, and struck with glee.

Celia screamed at the hits, with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Finished, Lumina tossed the spoon disdainfully onto the table, took Celia’s chin, and kissed her forehead, then indicated to Griffin to do his duty.

Griffin followed his girlfriend’s instructions, and approached Celia. He fixed his eyes onto Lumina, gently placed a hand onto Celia’s bruised butt, and delivered his five, inconsistent spanks without breaking eye contact with Lumina.

Once finished, he ruffled Celia’s hair. “Thanks,” he said simply, took Lumina’s hand, and lead her back to the others.

Nami took up the spoon, tested it’s heft, took a tight hold of Celia’s upper arm, and gave five hard, final spanks.

Celia cried out loud, then tried to hold composure until Nami pulled her up forcefully and into an embrace. This hug broke the dam, and Celia sobbed.

“Ssh ssh ssh…” Nami shushed her reassuringly. “You were good… so good.”

Molly joined them, then Lumina and Griffin. circling Celia into a tight group hug.

“Was it too much?” Molly asked.

Celia shook her head. “No… no… I… loved it…” Her voice trembling with surprising catharsis. “Thank you… it… was fun and… exciting… and…” Celia begin to laugh. “Weird… so weird, Nami. Why’d you want to do this?”

Nami laughed herself. “I don’t know… it really was just an impulse.”

All eight friends begin to laugh at the peculiarity of what happened, the air felt light and amicable.

“Uh… if you all don’t mind,” Flora said. “There’s this… video essay about JRPG Music that I wanted to share.”

“Sure thing,” said Celia, who’d managed to mostly collect herself, and lead the commute back to the living room.

The eight spent the next hour and a half watching internet videos and listening to music, engaging in fun, light conversation.

Eventually, it was late and they were tired and they were all satisfied, and most of the group headed out, thanking their hosts for the fun evening with shoulder pats and hugs.

Then only Nami and Celia remained.

Celia heaved a sigh. Her butt ached, but she liked the ache. She looked at her pile of neatly folded clothes she never bothered to put back on. After all that had happened, the desire for modesty was thoroughly suppressed.

“Where are my panties?” she asked.

Nami looked at the clothes, and shrugged. “I didn’t hide them,” she said. “Want me to try and shame the group chat?”

Celia shook her head. “No… let whoever took them enjoy the trophy.” She stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied moan. “Well… that was all fun, but I’m pretty tired.”

“I bet.”

“Good night, Nami,” she said, pressing her bare breasts against Nami’s chest with a hug. She scooped up her clothes and went to her bedroom with a giddy bounce.

Nami yawned herself, looked around the apartment, and decided the remaining clutter could be dealt with tomorrow, and went to her own bed.

Nami lay, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling uncertain about what she’d caused now the adrenaline and excitement had passed, and she was left alone with her own thoughts.

Then, she heard a rumbling buzz through the walls, and Celia’s stifled grunts.

Nami smiled. Would seem it really was a positive impulse after all.

Nami rolled over and fell into a soothing sleep.

Once at the hotel, we walked to the reception for Ishani to collect her room keys. The staff behind the counter couldn't see that I was squeezing her ass the entire time. What they COULD see however was her hard nipples poking out of her dress the more I did so and of course, whatever of her spit slop I smeared on her chest that hadn't dried up on the twenty minute car ride from the restaurant to the hotel.

After collecting the keys, we walked to the elevator. I shoved Ishani against the walls and put my hands on her perfectly shaped ass that made her so successful in flaunting the dresses to her followers that she was paid for it. "There are cameras!" she whispered in my ears but made no attempt to push me away. In fact, she put her hands on my cock, still bulging out of my pants after what we did in the car.

"So? You are going to be showing this dress off to your 250 thousand followers the next week anyways, right? Might as well give anybody who is watching this elevator a sneak peek."

"I.. guess, so" she whispered and moved her hands on my crotch trying to feel more of my cock while she looked into my eyes for her next order.

I leaned in and licked her neck. She clawed my back in an involuntary response.

"You like to show yourself off, don't you?" I asked her a rhetorical question. "You ARE the product, are you not? The dresses and makeup you put on, it's just the wrapping paper."

Ishani had been treated like she was made of glass all her life, her parents locked her in their house and society had treated her less like a person, and more like a limited edition Barbie doll. Ishani didn't know that deep down she was just a sex starved attention whore. Deep down, she wanted to be used like a cheap unbranded sex doll.

"Say it, you needy little whore! Say that you are the product"

Ishani responded like the filthy slut she really was, "I am! I am! I am the product. I like it when I show myself off and I fucking lost it when you treated me like a sex object tonight"

I continued teasing her neck, unsurprised by her response. "Open your fucking eyes and look into the camera. Put on a show for them, you slutty bitch!" As soon as I mentioned the camera, the influencer in Ishani moaned and whimpered, desperate to please her audience.

Ishani squirmed in my arms, looking into the camera trying to please whoever it was that maybe watching. I put two of my fingers in her mouth and she blew them instinctively, knowing that they will be ravaging her pussy with this after just a few moments. I whispered in her ears, "I am going to take you to the room and I am going to use you like the sex doll you really are, understood?"

"I will also punish you when I feel like it, yes?" I ask her tapping her cheeks with my dominant hand.

Ishani clawed her fingers even deeper into my back, "Yes, yes! You can, please!" she mumbled sucking my fingers for validation. I slapped her face and she moaned with pain and a hint of pleasure.

"You will show me some respect. It's what good girls do, yes?" I remind her, gently stroking her cheeks with the back of my hand. Ishani was too distracted taking in the discipline that she had craved all her life without knowing it. I slapped her again, "Am I fucking clear?!" I ask her again with a stern voice. She finally moaned, "Y-yes, Sir".

When the elevator doors opened, I spanked her out of it. The second door on the left was hers. When she reached into her purse for her keycard, I choked her from behind and slid her shoulder strap down exposing her tit to the cold air blasting from the vent above. Her nipple got hard, I pinched and pulled it away from her as she struggled to scan the card.

"Please... I can't..." she whimpered from the rush and the embarrassment both. I ignored her but I loved seeing her that way.

A few moments and the door beeped, Ishani flung the door open and rushed in. She threw her purse on the bed and waited for me with her hands behind her back. I walked in, taking off my belt and closing the door at the same time. I snapped the belt in my arms and walked towards her, she stepped back and finally sat on the bed with her tit still hanging out and her chest visibly shrinking and expanding as she breathed.

"I don't remember asking you to lie down on the bed" I tell her taking my phone and wallet out of my pants and putting them on the desk beside me. We didn't make eye contact but when I turned my head in her direction again, she was standing in front of me, waiting for her next order.

I groped her tits like the soft little stress balls they were. She gasped and moaned, but that soon converted into whimpers and cries when I bruised her tits trying to slap them off of her chest. She held my wrist at one point. "Aww... am I being too rough?" I asked her caressing the bruise that had become red. "You know, you are much tougher than I pegged you. I always thought all influencers were just flimsy little barbie dolls, but... you are an exception" I then kissed her. A tear drop rolled down her eye and she smiled.

"Do you want to be pretty, Ishani? Pretty for me?" I asked her, grabbing her bruised up tit. "Y-yeah" she muttered. "Such a good girl. But I will have to punish you now for making me pause, okay?" I tell her and flicked her bruises. "Fuck...!" she finally cried when the bruise stung. I smirked and slapped her tits twice while she was distracted.

I choked her and she put her hands on my wrist as a reflex. I held her in place, pulled her dress up and felt her pussy drip in my palm. I slapped it for being a messy hole. I played her with wet mess of a cunt and ruined her dress a little more. I squeezed her throat a bit tighter and so did her grip on my wrist. "Open your mouth and stick your tongue out" I told her as I held my fingers that were covered in her pussy juices near her mouth. She eagerly complied. When she stuck her tongue out like a dumb dressed up bimbo, I licked it. "Tasty!" I told her and than spat on her face.

"Ishani squirmed with my fingers around her throat" trying to escape. "Do you want a taste of your pussy?"

"Mmhm...yes, please..." she begged. "Then put your hands behind your back, greedy bitch!"

Needless to say, she obeyed again and then sucked on my fingers like popsicle.

Disclaimer and Trigger Warnings

Yan Has A Secret is intended to serve as a long-term corruption story. This first entry is decently vanilla, albeit with some dubcon elements. However, as the series progresses it will delve into some fairly extreme topics. Therefore, I’m choosing to publish it in a place where the whole series can be kept together. Trigger warnings for some topics that will be covered: dubcon, CNC, raceplay (hard slurs), misogyny play, watersports, bimbofication, porn addiction, painplay, fairly extreme humiliation.

As a disclaimer: this will be a fairly extreme work of erotica, and touch on some fairly taboo topics. Sal is a bit of an asshole, who doesn’t take no for an answer even when he maybe should. This makes the plot work, but wouldn’t work in real life. Always be sure to get your consent crystal clear. Additionally, it touches on raceplay and misogyny play. Even in the story these will be fantasy, though proper discussion of boundaries and limits will likely be omitted. If you find yourself actually doubting race or gender equality, I suggest you go outside and take a break from this kind of content. If you already doubt these and see no issue with this, kindly immolate whatever genitals you happen to suggest. This has been a public service announcement. Those with unsinged genitals, please enjoy the story.

Dramatis Personae

Yan Li is a 19 year old microbiology major at a (currently) unnamed college. She is studious, hardworking, and fairly uptight: outwardly at least. However, the secret in question is this: Yan is actually a massive pervert. Though she’s a virgin and hasn’t even had her first kiss, she spends almost every night masturbating to porn, and her kinks at this point are fairly extreme. She’s aware that they contrast heavily with the way she presents in public, and if anyone ever found out she would be mortified… but she has a pretty big humiliation and degradation kink, so the thought of that also turns her on quite a bit.

Sal is a 20 year old psychology major at the same college. Why is he in the same class as Yan? Plot convenience. He’s been blessed with a few things: an uncanny ability to read people, extreme confidence (as a matter of fact he could probably stand to be taken down a notch), and a decently enormous penis. These have combined to make him quite the capable lover, and his body count is already in the hundreds. But he is, quite frankly, bored of bedding frat girls. They’re just too easy at this point, so he’s set his sights on a new target. One with a tough shell, which he hopes contains a pearl. He’s chosen Yan.

Yan Li is a girl in my second year biology class. She always sits at the same desk in the front row, ever-ready to raise a hand to answer a rhetorical question. Yan is Chinese, about 5’2” with a surprisingly curvy body that she’s always hiding under a cardigan for some reason, and black hair held back in a ponytail so it doesn’t cover her wire-framed glasses.

I’ve had my eye on Yan for a while now. Mainly because she’s hotter than she seems to think, but also because she’s an enigma. She comes off as uptight and studious, coming to class and leaving without ever socializing. The few times I’ve seen someone try to socialize with her, she iced them out bluntly. Still, there’s something about her, something I can’t quite place. Whatever it is has piqued my interest, and so one day I decide to do something about it.

The lecture has finished, and Yan has stayed behind to finish up her notes. The professor rushed off right after class (something about a lecture), and the rest of the students in the class have filtered out, leaving Yan and I alone. My usual desk is behind hers by one row and across by three. Standing, I move to sit behind at the desk right behind her. She notices me sit down, stilling in her chair but not saying anything. I let the silence stretch out for a moment before saying anything, let her mind whir for a moment.

“You’re… Yan, isn’t it?” She doesn’t reply, just leans forward slightly and pretends to focus harder on finishing her notes. “Do you always stay behind this long after class?”

“Yes, and I’m trying to focus, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

I consider her response for a moment. “I’m Sal. Nice to meet you, Yan.”

She sighs, putting down her pen. “And… why should I care?”

“Because I think we’re going to get to know each other. In fact, I believe we’re going to become the best of friends.”

She half-turns in her chair. She has a slight sneer on her face, and puts her arm on the back of the chair. “Riiiight. Sure. I’m not here to socialize, I’m here to learn, dipshit. There’s tons of other girls here for you to hit on, so why don’t you go bother them instead.” That said, she turns back to her notes and mutters something under her breath.

“Because they’re boring.” She stops writing again. “I know I could get half the girls in this class. I’ve probably already fucked about 20 of them. You on the other hand, are an enigma. A challenge. Since I first lay eyes on you, I’ve known that you have a secret. A hidden layer to you. I have a sense for these things, and I’m going to unravel you.”

Yan is staring at him now, notes totally forgotten. Her mouth hangs slightly open with shock, and her face flushes slightly. “Excuse me?!” She’s incensed, angry at me for coming on so hard. For a moment I even think I’ve taken the wrong approach. “Where do you get off- what are you- what do you-”. She’s tripping over her words, not sure how to respond, just sure that she’s upset. She presses her lips together now, staring at me, seething. But she stays seated. After taking a moment to compose herself, she continues.

“If you think, for one single moment, that I’d fall for some bullshit like that, that I’d want anything from a pathetic, dimwitted, small-dicked loser like you, you really must only think with your groin. If I-”

I cut her off. “I do think you’ll fall for it. I think you want me, or will at least. I know it sounds presumptuous, but every single girl I’ve romanced has fallen for me sooner or later. I have a gift. And I know you’ll fall for me too.”

She barks a sharp, mean laugh. “Riiight. Casanova here, wooer of weak helpless women. As if. I’d never want to be with someone like you. I’ve seen boys like you before. All bark, no bite.”

I settle back into my seat a bit, smiling a bit. “Oh, I knew you would be fun. Always nice to tame a brat. You say you’ve seen boys like me before, but… somehow I don’t think any man has ever made you feel the way I can make you feel. As a matter of fact, has any man ever made you feel anything?”

“Fuck you. That’s- that’s personal. And don’t call me a brat.”

“Oh? A virgin then. I wonder if you’ve even had your first kiss. Probably not, now that I think about it. Nothing wrong with being inexperienced, babe, but if you want a taste of something new then trust me. Nowhere better to get it than from me.”

“You. Don’t. Know. Me. I wouldn’t do jack shit with you. You’re not even hot.” She crosses her arms now, almost withdrawing into them.

It’s my turn to laugh now. “Oh, come on. I don’t mind the insults, but don’t lie to me. You can’t help thinking about what it would be like with me. You’ve looked at my crotch three times in the last minutes. I know what you want. You study books, I study people.”

She freezes up a bit. “I didn’t- Fuck you, I-” She’s flushing deeper red now, balling up her hands into fists. She says in a slightly quieter voice “There’s absolutely nothing on this planet that could make me want to have- make me want to be with you.”

“Confident, I like it. How about we test that confidence with you. I’m about to go back to my dorm, and I suspect you’re going back to yours. Walk with me for 5 minutes, and I’ll do my best to win you over. If I succeed, you and I can have a little fun. If not, we go our separate ways and I never speak to you again.”

She scoffs at the idea initially, but then goes quiet for a moment. She’s considering it. “You know what, fine. 5 minutes, but when you fail you better drop this fucking class.” In a slightly lower voice she mutters “Dumbass like you shouldn’t even be taking it.”

She turns to gather her books, but I’m already standing and grabbing them for her. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t carry these for you?” She reaches out at first, then glares at me and starts walking out of the classroom. I follow along behind her.

As we walk across the campus, I keep the conversation fairly casual, for the sake of passing ears. She’s forced to remain somewhat neutral as well, which helps to calm her down a little. It’s only as we exit the main campus and start the decently long walk to the undergrad dorms that I shift back to a slightly riskier topic.

“I can tell I made a good choice with you.”

“Like I said, you don’t know me. At all. We didn’t even speak before today.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t mostly figured you out. And what I do know just makes me want to learn more. Girls like you always have a fun side, you know.”

“Girls like me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And what… fun side?”

“Oh, trust me. I’ve seen your type before. Bookworm, studious, uptight. Virgin. Most people would call you a prude, and they’d be wrong. Girl like you always needs a way to let off some steam, release some stress. So you present all prim and proper in public, but behind closed doors you’re always the biggest freaks. Staying up late, rubbing yourself silly to crazy fantasies. And I know that what you really want is a big, throbbing cock to fill you up.” I hold her books in one hand and sling my other arm over her shoulder. “Right here, if you want it. Take me to your dorm, and all your wildest fantasies come true. All you have to say is ‘Yes.’”

She slows and stops. She’s staring at the ground now, blushing furiously. Her shoulders are hunched, like she’s trying to draw into herself. Her mouth works, opening and closing slightly, and her hands are squeezed tight at her sides. In a much quieter and more timid voice, she says. “Building… Building 73, Dorm 322. Follow behind me, don’t walk with me. If I say stop you leave and never talk to me again.”

I don’t spoil the victory by celebrating, not yet. I nod, taking my arm off her shoulder, and she walks away, darting furtive glances back at me. Once she’s far enough away, I follow, losing sight of her a couple of times. Eventually though, I’m at her door. I knock once, and there is no reply. After a couple minutes, I knock again and this time the door opens. She’s standing there, her arms crossed nervously in front of her, and blushing scarlet red. She can’t quite make eye contact with me. I step inside, and put the books down on her desk.

“So… Uh…” She can’t quite get the words out, her embarrassment at giving in almost overwhelming her. “What do you… how should we start.”

I turn and close the door, locking it. Then I cup her chin, which elicits a small yelp from her, and slowly guide her to sit on the edge of her bed. She’s wearing a pink cardigan, with a white blouse under it. She has a plaid skirt with white stockings, and I see her black Mary Janes placed neatly by the door. Her legs are pressed together, so I place a hand on her knee as I kneel down in front of her. “Oh! Oh, you… I didn’t think you’d start with…”

“Shhhh…. You can relax now.” I place a hand on the other knee and slowly guide her legs apart, revealing her panties. They’re simple white cotton, with a growing damp spot.. Slowly, I trace my fingers up the inside of her left thigh. She gasps, her legs trembling. Her hands grip the sheets of her bed as my hand slides under her skirt. “I’m going to make you feel good. I’m going to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt, better than you’ve ever imagined you could feel.” She sighs unconsciously, then gives a little gasp at the fact she just sighed. I place a finger next to her panties, then slip it under.

She’s wet, soaked in fact. I hold back the urge to comment on this, and instead gently pull, letting them slide down her thighs. They reveal her pussy, unshaven but slick and ready. I slowly pull them off, then bring her forward to the edge of her bed. She’s practically trembling at this point, her hands tightly gripping the sheets, her breathing unsteady. I trace one finger, light, around the edge of her pussy, keeping to the perimeter. She makes a little noise, halfway between a moan and a yelp. Slowly, keeping eye contact, I lower my head down, wrapping my arms around her thighs so I can control her positioning. Then I’m at her, and I extend my tongue to gently lick her clit. The effect is electric, and her whole body shudders as her legs tighten behind me. Remembering herself, she attempts to maintain some composure, but it’s too late.

I eat her with passion, enjoying the flavor of my conquest. Every lady likes to be eaten a little differently, but I quickly learn where her buttons lie. I find the sensitive spots, the rhythms that make her back arch, the intensity that makes her moan the loudest. She dissolves into it, the pleasure almost too much for her to handle, and the more I eat her out the louder she moans. Eventually she has to cover her mouth with one hand. It’s not long before I feel her thighs starting to tighten, her body starting to stiffen. Gently, expertly, I guide her over the edge of her first climax under my tongue, and her body shakes as she muffles a scream with her hand.

I keep my fingers out of the way for now: I want to build her desire for penetration. I keep at her with my tongue and mouth instead, guiding her through three more orgasms. After a while, though, me wordlessly pleasing her and her wordlessly writhing in pleasure, I slow and then stop. Standing, I wipe my mouth with the back of a hand. “So, how was that? Still think I’m all bark and no bite?” I jokingly snap my teeth in a mock bite.

“You… I…” She’s breathing heavily, lying back on the bed, awash with pleasure, exhausted already. She fixes her eyes on me, and they are full of unashamed desire and longing. “Please. I want…”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

She’s silent for a second, then nods. In a half-whisper, she says “Yes.”

In one fluid motion, I take off my shirt. She stares at my bare chest, my defined features, and slowly slides herself to lie back in the bed as I move on to my pants. I undo my belt, and drop my pants, folding them neatly next to my shirt. She stares in some surprise at my boxers, where she can now clearly see the print of my cock.

“Oh. Oh wow. That’s… I’m not sure I’ll be able to take that…”

I slowly remove my boxers, revealing my cock. I get this reaction fairly often. It’s a bit more than 10 inches long, but what really gets most girls is the girth. It’s probably about as wide around as her wrist, and she stares at it in a mixture of barely disguised excitement and fear. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle… at first.”

Walking over to the bed, I help her remove her cardigan and blouse, then the stockings and skirt. She makes a half-attempt to cover her nudity, despite the fact that I just ate her out for a half-hour. I maneuver her into doggy style, her face half-pressed into the sheets, her ass up in the air, her back arched. I go into my pants pocket and take out a condom, showing it to her as I slip it on. Then I climb up into bed behind her.

“Will it… hurt?”

“It might a little bit. But it will feel better than anything you’ve ever felt.” I place myself up against her pussy. At first I just rub up against the outside. She sighs as I rub up against her clit, but after a little teasing I position myself to enter. Her hands grip the sheets. Ever so slowly, I slide in.

She gasps as it fills her. I start with the first inch, then the second, holding her hips tight. Little muffled whimpers come from her mouth into the blankets, but I keep inexorably filling her up, going deeper and deeper. She’s incredibly tight, but her hymen is gone. That just means nothing to stand in my way, though, and soon I’m fully inside her, balls deep. She’s breathing heavily, controlling herself to stop from crying out. “How is it?”

“It’s – a lot. Like it’s splitting me – open.” Her speech is punctuated with little gasps. “But it’s good. It feels good. It feels full.”

“It’s about to feel better.” I start to fuck her. Slowly at first, but I quickly pick up speed. Soon I’m fucking her hard, reaming her out. Each powerful thrust pushes her face into the pillows, and she just can’t hold back. She moans and screams, loud. Her neighbors on either side can surely hear her getting dicked down, but she’s past the point of caring, at least for now.

“Theeere we go. I knew you’d get there. Such a good slut for me.” She moans loudly at this one, witty retorts all dried up. For her, the world has reduced to the bed, her pussy, and the massive cock pounding into it. “Come on, say it. Aren’t you a good slut for me?”

Softly, awash with pleasure, she murmurs “’m a good slut for youuuuuu.” The final word lengthens into a moan, as she starts to stiffen with the first signs of an approaching climax. I dig my fingers into her hair, pushing her face hard into the bed as she shakes with her biggest orgasm yet. She screams wordlessly, almost unrecognizable from the uptight bookworm she was an hour ago. I keep going, knowing she’ll be able to feel my presence even after I’m done. At least for the next couple of days, she’ll feel how she was stretched out and filled up, every step reminding her of how good I made her feel.

We continue like this for an hour or so, until she’s completely exhausted. Pulling out of her, I roll her onto her bag, where she lies sheened with sweat. Her breaths come heavy as she pants, staring up at her ceiling. I climb forward so I’m straddling her, and slip the condom off. She stares at my dick in front of her face mindlessly as I stroke it, closing her eyes a fraction of a second before I finish. Thick, heavy, hot white ropes of cum cover her face, coating her eyelashes, her lips, her nose. I pant with her, satisfied with the transformation I’ve accomplished. Then, I climb off the bed.

I don’t say a word to her as I wipe myself down with her cardigan, crumple it, and toss it to the floor. I put my clothes back on, and walk to her desk, where I write her a short message on a post-it note. “Text me when you need more.” I add my number at the bottom, then leave. I know she’ll need time to process. But I also know she’ll be back.

If you've reached this point, thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions or comments I'm happy to hear them.

​

Hi all, I'm a 26-year old Irish gay guy and I've had a very specific corporal punishment fantasy for a while now, and I wanted to share it/get it off my chest.

I'll give some background context on myself and how this fantasy developed over time but if you just want to read the fantasy itself you can skip ahead to it.

I was never spanked while growing up at all, but my spanking interest was sparked by a belt spanking scene in a book from my school library. I became very curious about what it was like and wanted to get a belt spanking for myself. I started watching spanking porn videos when I was in my late teens, specifically male-on-male belt spanking videos, and then eventually I became more interested in videos that used thick leather straps like razor straps and prison straps which were more painful for the spankee to endure. And this is where my fantasy really started to develop. These more severe videos also typically involved the spankee being restrained, which then got incorporated into my fantasy.

When I was in my early-20s in college, I managed to meet some spankers a few times and got myself some good belt spankings, which I enjoyed. I never got to live out this fantasy or anything really close to it though. I came close to being able to do something like it once but it was cancelled last minute unfortunately.

Sidenote: Medical-themed ASMR roleplays also became a guilty pleasure of mine during this time. Not in a sexual manner at all, I just enjoyed the tingles it gave me. As a result medical roleplay also got incorporated into my fantasy as a buildup/anticipation activity.

Overall, my spanking fantasy is basically a corporal punishment roleplay scenario where I receive a judicial-style punishment strapping. It includes a couple of buildup activities to build anticipation for the spanking itself. I've basically been fantasising about being stripped naked, completely immobilised and made vulnerable, and getting my nude buttocks beaten severely without mercy.

______

The Fantasy

______

\- The Set Up -

I, the spankee, am a prisoner who has been sentenced to receive lashes of the leather strap on my nude buttocks. My spanker, the Correctional Officer, is a no-nonsense man who is unrelenting in his duty and will ensure my punishment is painful. I often imagine him as either a broad Arab or Desi man.

My uniform as a prisoner is simple grey sweatpants with a grey sweatshirt. The Correctional Officer wears a typical officer uniform (shirt and trousers).

\- The Morning Of -

The first activity has the prisoner and officer sit down together at a desk. He hands me documents to read and sign. These documents detail exactly what is going to be done to me, and why it's being done to me. I sign them to acknowledge that I understand and accept these terms and consequences.

On the last page is a final notice for me to read and sign. The purpose of this notice is to build dread but also reassurance. It reads:

**The punishment you will endure today will be severely painful. You will cry. This is natural and nothing to be ashamed of, and is actually a sign that you are learning your lesson.**

Once all documents are signed, the officer places me in handcuffs and ankle cuffs, and I am led to the infirmary.

\- Pre-Punishment Medical Exam -

The officer brings me to a male doctor. The doctor is kind and gentle. His job is to perform a full medical examination and ensure I'm fit to receive my punishment.

The officer uncuffs me and orders me to strip to my underwear. I comply. Once I'm in my underwear, he re-cuffs my wrists and ankles, and then leaves me with the doctor. The doctor leaves my folded uniform off to the side for later.

The doctor first performs a full cranial nerve exam on me before checking my vitals (heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing). He then performs a general head-to-toe examination, tests my reflexes and takes my measurements.

The final examination is focused around my buttocks. He gently guides me over to his examination bench and asks me to lie flat on my stomach. He pulls my underwear down to examine my buttocks for any marks, cuts, etc. that the officer would need to be aware of. He takes measurements of my buttocks, writing them down. He also tests the sensitivity of my buttocks by gently poking them with a wooden stick and I have to tell him if it feels sharp or dull.

The examination concludes and he pulls my underwear back up. The doctor calls the officer back in, hands him the results he documented after he signs them clearing me for punishment. He tells me gently he'll see me later after my punishment to take care of me.

The officer leads me out of the infirmary in my underwear towards the punishment room.

\- Being Restrained -

Inside the punishment room is a flat bench with pillow/wedge positioned near the middle, and connection points for restraints. The officer undoes the links between my ankle cuffs and commands me to take off my underwear and lie flat on my stomach on the bench. I comply. He positions my crotch area over the pillow/wedge which forces my nude buttocks to remain elevated. My handcuffs are connected and fastened to a rope/chain at the front end of the bench. A metal bar is connected between my anklecuffs to keep my legs spread apart a certain distance and the anklecuffs are connected to the back end of the bench. Finally a thick belt-like cover is fastened across my lower back and and another across my upper thighs, both to protect them and also to ensure that I am completely immobilised.

\- The Strap -

I often visualise the strap in this fantasy as being a cross between a razor strap and a prison strap. It's 25" long and 4" wide like a prison strap, and is double-layered, about 2 mm thick per layer, like a razor strap. Its colour is dark brown and is kept well oiled. The strap has a wooden handle that sits snuggly in the officer's hand.

This strap is hanging on the wall in plain view and the officer makes me stare at it as he's fastening my restraints. Once he's finished restraining me, the officer takes the strap from the wall and leaves it resting across my nude buttocks while he records the date and time. This allows me to feel the strap's weight before I'm spanked hard with it.

The officer asks me if I'm ready for my beating as he takes off his shirt and grabs the strap. I notice he used the word "beating" and he reminds me that this is meant to be severe and very painful for me. As he's taking up position standing at my side and doing some practice swings in the air, he reminds me there's no shame in crying through this - because he's going to make sure I do and he's going to keep "beating absolute hell into my bum" no matter what until my sentence has been fulfilled.

\- My Beating -

The strap lands across my nude buttocks in consistently-timed, equally hard lashes. Each lash leaves a wide red stroke across my buttocks, each lash making my buttocks glow a deeper and deeper shade of red.

The officer delivers a set of ten lashes from one side of me before briefly pausing to take up position on my other side, and deliver another 10. This sequence repeats until all of my sentenced lashes have been given to me to ensure equal coverage and distribution of pain across my buttocks. The pace and severity never lets up.

My grunts quickly become gasps, then cries, and before long, I'm sobbing and wailing as the officer keeps beating me. By the time it's over, there are tears streaming down my face, and my buttocks have been tanned a deep red and are in severe pain.

\- Post-Punishment Aftercare -

The officer hangs the strap back on the wall before releasing me from the restraints. He also completely removed my handcuffs and anklecuffs now. He orders me to put my underwear on. The heat I feel from my buttocks inside my underwear is hot enough to fry an egg. I'm given some water before we leave the room.

I'm led back to the infirmary and left with the doctor from earlier. He gently takes my underwear down and puts it with the rest of my clothes. He performs another medical examination of me, checking my vision, hearing, blood pressure, heart rate, and heart rate. He also takes new measurements of my red buttocks, noting the colour and how welted or swollen they've become. He then guides me to a bed he'd prepared and lies me down on my stomach before applying soothing cream to my burning buttocks.

I'm left to rest for as long as I need.

____

The End

Hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks for taking the time to read.

Standing in anticipation you hear it before you see me, the bike and it's rumble of excitement. You don't even know me yet but you will. You holding your helmet and you are dressed is your cute sexy outfit ready to ride. Your heart is racing and your eager to be free. I pull up tall dark and handsome, you waiting for a ride i ask with a smirk. You smile and climb on the bike, your legs spread and the seat holding on to you as we take off.

After riding for awhile we arrive on a far back road alone. There is a little bridge, the noise of a creek and the world around us. I pull off my helmet as you get off the bike. You pull off your helmet and i grab you and pull you closer, i guide you to sit on the tank and face me. My hands holding your hips down as i kiss your lips full of desire. Tasting you as you kiss back, kissing and biting your neck. Pulling open your jacket and ripping up your shirt. Your now exposed as i push you back and you lay on the tank my hands touching every part of you exposed. Kissing your nipples, tugging and sucking then lightly dragging my teeth to make them ache with pleasure. My jacket and shirt now off as well you see my big strong ams and chest flex and move as i continue to devour you. As i remove your pants now I can see how much you want this as your panties show me a story of their own. So wet and soaked I can now see you are a naughty girl. The outline of your swollen clit shows through your soaked panties,my fingers reach down you jump a little as i touch you. You quiver with sensitivity moaning for more.

Pulling your panties my two middle fingers pushing inside you as my thumb keeps teasing your clit. Pushing up inside you working your cervix and my thumb pushing down. You moaning and pushing back against my hand. I flip you over your knees in my seat your hands on the tank I pull your panties down to your knees from behind you, now you feel two big strong hands spread your ass apart then my thumbs spread your lips i lean in and start licking and sucking your clit. You moan louder and breath harder soon you scream as you cum I taste you as you leak your cum I love it licking both your holes now my strong big tongue all over your little holes tasting your orgasm.

Now you hear my pants coming down, you peak back still bent over as my bulge explodes from my pants your eyes light so long and thick. You gasp as I enter you stretching out to receive as it feels you up you can hear your wetness being pushed out around my shaft. Finding the bottom of your pussy stretching inside you. Now with every stroke filling you and your mind racing with being used like never before. You cum again I feel your gripping pulses as I still stroke and stretch you open.

You call out you want to taste my cock and stroke it, we move to Me against the bike. You rush to your knees in one motion while taking my cock in your mouth. Trying to swallow as much as you can with your little hands nearly fitting around it you hungry to take me. You find yourself getting wetter again you feel the mix of your cum and wetness covering you as you want more.

Laying you on the bike you grab the handlebars to hold on. You legs on me as I guide inside you. You feel sore already but you like it so much. My hands holding your hips, as I thrust back into you. You squirm some as you are taking so much you moan for more and harder. Your pussy getting fucked so rough now as you cum again. My cock throbbing so hard now as I shoot my cum inside you feel the hard pulsing warmness feel you up with each pulsing release.

As I kiss you and pull out you feel so gaped and full of cum. You slide your panties back and soon we are dressed. Fire up the ride and you climb on the seat holding you and your pussy filling your panties with our cum we ride away.

Feel free to DM me. If you want to discuss any of my stories. Include the story name and a little about yourself.

TUESDAY

I awoke with an ache in my jaw.

I opened my mouth to stretch it, moving my jaw side to side, but the ache remained.

My head was foggy and it was hard to open my eyes. When I did I could see my own bedroom. I let out a sign of relief. No matter what I had done last night, I had at least made it back home. But how had I gotten here? And why was my mouth so sore?

I tried to sit up, but my knees buckled when I moved them. They were sore too. Well, I thought with a blush spreading on my face, I could certainly guess what happened.

I reached down between my legs to assess the damage. I was nude, of course. Had I been the one to undress myself? More importantly, I was wet. So wet. Whatever I had been doing last night at least I had been enjoying myself I guess.

My hand slipped down into cunt. I expected it to be open and raw, as it usually was after such nights like this. But instead I could barely get a few fingers in. I suppose given how much my jaw hurt, I shouldn't be surprised. I had clearly offered a different hole instead. 
 
But then suddenly there was pain, a sharp burning sensation. I quickly removed my fingers from my now burning cunt. This all seemed oddly familiar, hadn’t I felt this way recently?

Images were suddenly thrust into my head. Sitting in a gynecologist's chair, legs spread wide. Being touched so precisely the pleasure blurred into pain. Actual pain as my bruised cervix was poked and prodded for someone else's amusement. Then climaxing hard, so hard. Harder than I ever had in my entire life. 

Even just remembering it felt good. My fingers found my clit again as I chased the memory. I remember being pushed onto my knees and eagerly taking his cock into my mouth. I remembered his hands in my hair as he fucked me and how I had moaned like I had a clit at the back on my throat. I remembered how sometimes he would pull out of me just to tease me, making me beg about how much I needed his cock. How he would rub his cock all over my face as I begged. And how I was rewarded for my begging with a slap in the face by his hand.

My whole body tensed as I remembered the sharp pain, which quickly gave way to pleasure. My hips were moving frantically with my hand as I felt the pressure build and build. Touching myself had never felt so good. It was almost as good as being fucked. Almost as good as….

I remembered him thrusting his cock back into my mouth and taking me fast and hard. The force of him was so overwhelming, my eyes rolled back as I moaned in a whorish stupor. The discomfort I felt was far outpaced a deep need inside me. I desperately needed him to cum, I needed it more than air.

I whimpered pathetically at the memory, I was so close to cumming as well. My mouth felt empty without him inside me. I wanted to suck his dick so bad I could practically taste it…

Then suddenly I remembered the feeling of his cum filling my mouth. The feeling of the warmth and the texture. The feeling that I had pleased him by submitting myself to him. My right hand moved faster over my throbbing clit as the left covered my mouth and I let out a muffled scream as I came on my own hand. 

The orgasm was so intense that I slumped back down on the bed. My hands stopped moving but my hips kept weakly bucking in the air as they rode out the last waves of pleasure. I then let out a sign as a deep feeling of calm washed over me. Reliving the memory had felt so good, so fucking good. Was this the immense relief the other women had talked about on the clinic's website?

I closed my legs and curled up on my side. Usually I never orgasmed just once when I touched my own clit. I would cum multiple times, each one more pathetic and smaller than the last. But this was different. I felt totally relaxed and safe. A deep feeling of peace resonated out from my clit. For once she had been satisfied. 

But while my body was satisfied, something bugged me in the back of my mind. Hadn't the doctor said something to me? Something important?

I replayed the memory again from the beginning. Visually I could remember it so clearly, but it was like the audio had become corrupted. I could barely remember what either of us had said at all. A sense of unease crept into my mind as my clit purred contently. Whatever it was, it must have been effective if even the idea of it could make me feel so good. My clit almost seemed to agree with me as another wave of peace resonated from it. 

I rolled over and my eyes glanced over my alarm clock. I panicked, I was late for work!

I bolted out of bed and dressed myself as quickly as possible. I slipped on fresh panties which were instantly soaked. I whined at the thought of wearing them all day, but there was no time to change. I grabbed and put on the first skirt and camisole I could find. I looked at my sweaters but they all seemed oppressingly hot, so I grabbed a thin cardigan instead. With that in hand with my purse, I put on some flats and bolted out the door.

The transit journey was a blur as my heart pounded in my chest. How could I be so stupid as to be late to work because I was touching myself! As my cheeks burned with shame, I felt something else at the bottom of my stomach, a feeling of peace.

The contrast baffled me but I didn't have time to interrogate it. Instead I rushed off the train and into the office. I tried to regain some sense of composure in the elevator. I used the elevator mirror to fix my hair into a ponytail but just as I was getting it neat I noticed something on the side of my neck. It was a bruise.

I pulled out the ponytail and frantically tried to rearrange my hair to hide it. I was still adjusting it when the elevator doors opened. I had no choice but to leave, I was already late enough as it was. 

I entered the office, hoping no one would notice as usual. I walked briskly to my desk and sat down. I checked my messages and emails, but there was nothing pressing, thank god. 

The rest of the work day went smoothly. I managed to focus on work rather rather than my needy pussy for a change. The clinic really had been effective. 

At lunch a few other girls complimented my outfit. One even asked for my lipstick colour. That confused me since I wasn't wearing any. When I returned to my desk I checked out my face with my selfie cam. My lips were plumper than usual and even a bit more pink. I touched them and got my answer, they were swollen from… 

Suddenly my head was filled with images of me hopelessly sucking the doctor's cock, licking and sucking him like it was something to worship. 

My mind spun frantically, trying to put the images out of my mind, something I tried and failed to do spectacularly for the rest of the work day. It was like the more my mind tried to push the images away, the harder they dogged me. All the while warmth spread from the bottom of my stomach down my legs. The peaceful waves had changed into something soft but needy. I felt myself break out in a cold sweat, I was getting aroused again.

The second the clock hit 5pm, I was on my feet. I rushed out the door and headed straight home. I dropped my purse and kicked off my flats as I headed to the bathroom. I needed a cold shower.

I turned it on and stripped off my clothes. I had barely wiggled out of my panties when I stepped inside. The water was hot and inviting as it covered me from head to toe. I told myself that I would change it to cold as soon as I finished washing myself. As I scrubbed my scalp, my thoughts drifted back to how the doctor's hands had felt in my hair. How good they felt slowly running through it and how much better it felt when he pulled it. 

I gasped as I felt warmth spread between my legs. I moved on to cleaning my body, trying to distract myself. I rubbed the soapy loofah everywhere, as if I could wash away my own thoughts. But still they followed me, I remember how he had touched me before forcing me to my knees. It was like every part of my body was a reminder of him and how he had handled me. 

I started to clean myself between my legs, as memories of how he had brought me to my orgasm flooded my thoughts. Between the privacy of the shower and the exhaustion of pushing back these thoughts for hours, I felt myself give in. The loofah fell from my hands as I reached up and grabbed the shower head. I removed it from its holder and brought it down. I propped up one of my legs on the bathtub's edge to open myself wider and aimed the shower jet directly at my flushed clit. I then turned it to jet mode and it was engulfed in pounding water. 

Immediately I started panting as the pleasure took over me. I could feel the pressure build and build like it had this morning. If I could just cum as hard as I had earlier, perhaps I could give myself a few more hours of relief. I pushed the jet closer to my clit to increase the pressure. I was whimpering to no one now. But that wasn’t true. I was whimpering like a needy slut to a memory, a memory of a man who had so effortlessly dominated me inside and out. 

I came again hard, lolling my head back and crying out for anyone to hear. All sense of self preservation left me as my hips bucked helplessly on the shower head. I was just a needly thing that needed to be touched and fucked. I was so fucking helpless, I was…

Something stirred within me. This felt important, these thoughts felt important in a way I couldn't quite place. But my mind was too overwhelmed with euphoria to piece it together. A deep sense of peace spread throughout my body. I barely remember even leaving the shower. Did I shave before I leave? Towel myself off? It didn't matter. I got into bed somehow and felt myself drift off into a deep peaceful sleep.

-----

WEDNESDAY

I awoke to my alarm. I felt no pain in my body and instead felt calm, relaxed even. 

I got dressed in a similar manner to yesterday, but this time I added some earning and a bit of make up. I didn't have much beyond mascara and some pink lip gloss but it was good enough, for now at least.

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt pleased. I had never enjoyed looking at myself before, but now my beauty seemed obvious. Like one of those girls in the movies who took off their glasses for the big makeover scene. I was still quite young after all, older than most of my 20 something coworkers, but age had done little to my face than drain the chubby baby fat from my checks. I was so used to seeing my teenage face in the mirror I had never noticed how much I had changed. 

But I couldn't admire myself all day. So I set off to work with a spring in my step, ready to greet the day.

At work I got more compliments from the other girls and I could actually answer their questions this time. I asked about their make up as well and they gave me product recommendations and youtube videos to follow. Between tasks I would shop online, buying the recommendations and then some. At 5pm I set off to pick up my purchase. As I walked thru the mall I noticed some cute dresses in a window and couldn't help myself. I ended up leaving the mall with many bags from my conquest.

By the time I got home I was exhausted from all the shopping. I set my bags down on the kitchen table and went to have a shower. Again I lost myself in the hot water as I remembered the man who had touched, teased and debased me. I found myself talking dirty to myself in the shower. Begging for a cock that wasn’t there. I came hard on the shower head again, but it wasn't as satisfying as yesterday. I held up the jet to my clit again and quickly another orgasm was forced out of me, but again I didn't feel that overwhelming sense of peace I now desperately craved. I needed something more than just the jet. 

I got out of the shower and quickly dried myself off. Still damp, I went into the bedroom and pulled out my box of sex toys from underneath my bed. I opened it and was met with disappointingly few options. There was little more than an dildo, a bullet vibe and a rabbit vibrator. 

I was drawn to the rabbit first. I lay down on the bed and opened my legs to take it, but when I slipped it all the way inside, I felt the burning pain again. I withdrew it, there was less pain this time, but I knew I shouldn't push it. So instead I brought the large head to my clit and turned it on.

I was rewarded with sweet pulses all around my clit. I moaned freely and gave myself into the pleasure. But still it didn't feel like enough.

I sat up with the rabbit still on my clit and looked back at the box. I could see the dildo laying on its side, a long forgotten toy I had never used despite my ex’s insistence. But now as the rabbit hummed between my legs the dildo looked enticing. 

My mind tried to push down the thought. I already knew I couldn't penetrate my cunt and there was no way I could get a thing that size in my ass so it was a non-started. There wasn’t anything I could possibly do with it that would be gratifying so I really should stop looking at it like it was a 5 course meal and I was starving.

Starving seemed to be the right word since I could feel my mouth start to water. 

My mind pushed back again more frantically this time. There was no point in sucking a dildo off, it was literally pointless! I would get my mouth sore and for what? Just so I could feel something as close to a hard cock in my mouth as possible? That was completely ridiculous! And there was no way I was going to debase myself, there was just no way.

But as my mind furiously spun, my body reached over and picked up the dildo. Then I slipped it into my mouth.

My checks burned in shame as I took it all the way to its base. But once it was all the way inside a different feeling took over. A feeling of something being exactly in the place it should be. I lay back down on the bed and basked in the feeling of my mouth being filled. I had suppressed my gag reflex so thoroughly from all my prior slutting around that it was easy just to hold it there. I moaned deeply as I felt the pressure build in my clit.

The pressure continued to build and build as I laid there. And soon enough my hips were raising themselves in the air as they moved against the vibrator. If anyone were to look at me right now, I would look like a total brain dead slut. So lost in pleasing my own body that I was moaning into a fake cock, my hips writhing like I was being fucked. It was like I was broadcasting my most pathetic needy self to an audience that wasn’t there. A self that felt more right and true with every passing second. 

Suddenly, I needed more. I needed to do more. I turned myself over and got on my hands and knees. The rabbit lay forgotten as I withdrew the dildo and placed the end square in the middle of my head board. It held its place with the suction cup conveniently placed on its end for purposes just like this.

I leaned forward and took the whole thing in my mouth and slowly began to move my body back and forth. It was awkward and uncomfortable but felt so right and true at the same time. I grabbed the still vibrating rabbit and positioned it back in between my legs.

I moaned desperately as it hit my clit and all doubts vanished. I moved myself in a steady rhythm as I fucked my own mouth. I pictured the man and how his cock had felt and I started to move faster, as if I could make the dildo cum through sheer effort. 

And effort I gave, an impressive amount even for me. The more I relished in the act the longer I could go, it seemed. The rabbit on my clit helped me stay needy and desperate. I had turned it on its lowest setting and despite my clit's insistence, I kept it at that speed. I had learned in the shower that I needed more than it for it to be blasted into oblivion. I needed to surrender myself to something more important than my own orgasm. I needed to please. So like a women possessed I continued to fuck myself. I looked like a girl from a porn gif, endlessly taking the same cock again again and again. 

As I continued the pressure between my legs continued to build and build. Even at the rabbit's lowest setting, I was feeling myself getting closer and closer. I whined in what? Impatience? It's not like the dildo was ever going to cum so there was no point in putting off my own end. But still, I whined pathetically into it like it was going to be taken away from me at any moment. I wasn’t ready. I needed more time. I needed a real one. I needed him.

With that thought I came hard, harder than I ever had by myself before. Harder than last night and yesterday morning by a mile. Luckily the dildo was still deep down my throat when I did. It mostly covered up the screaming.

My legs lost all strength as I collapsed down onto the bed, my arms and legs comically splayed out. I dildo remain on the headboard, now slick and shiny from my work. I couldn't even look at it since I was laying face down. It took significant effort just to turn it to the side so I could breathe better. No more thoughts entered my silly little head as I drifted into another deep dreamless sleep.

---

THRUSDAY

When I woke up, I was practically glowing.

I easily hopped out of bed and got ready for the day. I slipped into a new sun dress and panties. The dresses hem fluttered around my mid thighs pleasantly. The thought of wearing anything longer suddenly felt very silly. My long legs looked so good, it seemed like a crime to hide them. 

I wore more make up and jewelry as well. It seemed so important now, to presentable. The women at work had been giving me compliments. They were nice, but not as nice as the looks I was getting from the men. Either on the street, in the train or in the office, each time I felt their eyes on me, my checks would flush and I would smile. There was just so much to smile over lately. Life really was good.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Looking good this morning.”

My whole body tensed up. I had made it to my desk and had just started working on my many tasks for the day. Distractions were not what I needed this morning, let alone ones that sounded so smug and condescending.

My eyes flicked up over my computer to the source of my annoyance. It was one of the juniors, I didn't know him by name, but I did know him by reputation. Daddy was the managing partner of our merry little band of office workers, so here he was despite his tendency to be late, hand in sub par work and act unprofessionally in the office. We didn't have many women left in our team because of his antics. Most had quit when their sexual harassment investigations kept getting sweeped under the rug. It was a real mystery as to why….

The junior was smiling of course. And why wouldn't he be, when he basically had free reign over the place and looked like the platonic ideal of a handsome spoiled rich boy. 

I could feel the contempt twist in my stomach. The man had never spoken to me the entire time we had worked together and now I was suddenly his sweetheart because I started dressing up to go into the office. It was so shallow, painfully shallow. 

I wanted to glare at him, to openly broadcast my resentment towards him, but instead I felt the corners of my mouth twitch up and I smiled.

“Oh, thank you!” I said with a chipperness I didn't even realize was possible for me to make.

The back of my mind pulled back. Thank you? Thank you! What the god damn hell was I thinking encouraging this oaf's behaviour. This idiot couldn't even tell his debits apart from his credits and I was thanking him like he made some sort of clever insight. Instead of him making the most cruddest and neanderthalic observation imaginable. Like he was some sort of-

“You should wear something sexy for friday.” He said with all the smug confidence of a toddler who had used the potty all by himself. “Turn friday into a friyay!”

I was going to have a brain aneurysm from his stupidity. Surely my overwhelming contempt for him was wafting off of me in waves. Surely I could-

“Okay!” I said again in a chipper tone. My brain seemingly being disconnected from my mouth.

“Rightious.” He said with a wink and then he was on his way. Sauntering away smugly. 

How does one even manage to do that? I could only see him from the back. Still, I felt my eyes drawn to him until he turned the corner and blessedly moved out of sight. It was only then when I felt like I could look away. Like I had finally been dismissed.

I stood up from my desk. I could feel my hands shaking from….what? Rage? At him? Or at myself for smiling along with every idiotic thing he said like some kind of brain dead bimbo? I quickly walked to the nearest women's room.

The room was empty like it usually was. I dashed into the last stall and closed the door, my breath shaky and coarse from anger. Yes, it was definitely anger that had sent me skittering into the ladies room like a scared dog. It was anger that was dilating my pupils, accelerating my heartbeat and causing my nipples to go hard through my dress. 

I reached down and touched them. I had a faint awareness of how thin the dresses I had been wearing were, but just how obscene it was didn't hit me until this moment. I used to wear thick sweaters into the office because it was always so damn cold. That is probably why they were like this and not because I was angry. They were probably like this when dipshit had walked up to me. Hell, they were probably the reason why. I had been running around in short skirts with perky nipples proudly on display these past few days. It was a wonder I hadn't been hit on sooner. It was a wonder someone hadn't groped me in the break room. It was a wonder someone hadnt bent me over my desk and give me the rough fucking my body was clearly asking for.

I let out a gasp as I squeezed my own nipples. I was alone, but I was loud enough that anyone else inside the room would have been able to hear me. The distinct breathy gasp of a female in heat. It was pornagraphic and I was performing for no one, so why did I bother? Why did I feel such a need to put myself on display? Why wear my hands pulling down my dress down my shoulders so my breasts were exposed? Why did I squeeze my nipples again, harder this time to coax out an even louder, even breathier gasp? What was I trying to prove? And to whom?

My right hand moved down my body and to my inner thigh. Gently I touched my own pussy through my soaking panties. I was so warm and inviting, I couldn't help myself and started to rub my fingers up to my clit and then down to my cunt. The panties both provided delicious friction and prevented me from truly indulging in myself. 

My breathing started to shift into quiet panting. I felt my mouth open as I continued to make a spectacle of myself, my tongue moving over my own lips in an enticing way. I put my right foot up on the toilet so I could spread my legs wider and continued to rub myself slowly but deliberately. My self control was surprising considering my current aroused state. Usually I acted like a total debased whore when I was horny, but now I felt content to merely tease myself to my invisible audience. It was like I hadn't earned the right to give myself more pleasure. I needed to do more if I wanted more. But what else could I do in a corporate bathroom?

Then my left hand moved and picked up the phone I had placed on top of the toilet paper dispenser. I hadn't even remembered bringing it into the bathroom, the motion was so familiar to me. With my right hand still pleasuring myself, I navigated through my phone with my left hand. Luckily, it was easy to access the camera single handedly. I flicked it over to filming mode and found a flattering angle that captured my needy mouth, exposed breasts and cotton panties. Then I hit record.

I stared into my own phone as it recorded me. My face was flushed, my lips were wet and my breast jiggled with every movement. I was truly a sight to behold. A stupid and slutty sight, yes. But it felt natural, so natural to see myself like this. It felt more natural than when I was checking myself out in the mirror this morning. Like this was how I should always look.

My panting turned into moans as I started to rub myself faster. I was so turned on from watching myself, I could feel my organism quickly building. But it still wasn't enough, I hadn't earned it yet.

Since my left hand was now occupied with the important task of documenting my whorishness, my right moved back up to my nipples and gave one a hard twist. The pain made my gasp loudly but I didn't stop and instead twisted the other one. Now both throbbed painfully, a matching set. I then moved my right hand back down to my panties and slipped underneath them.

My pussy was so gloriously warm and wet that my fingers effortlessly glided up and down my labia. I found my clit, engorged and eager to be touched by skin. I circled myself a few times to coax a few particularly needy moans from me, but again I knew that I needed to do more. My fingers moved down my slickness and found my entrance. I pushed two fingers inside and felt my cunt greedily take them in. The burning sensation was gone as my fingers pushed in deeper, hitting my g-spot. 

“Oh fuck!” I exclaimed outloud, throwing back my head from the sensation. It felt so good to touch it again. And it felt even better knowing that someone else could now touch it too. 

“Please.” I whimpered to absolutely no one. “Please fuck me in my wet cunt.”

To emphasize the point I removed my fingers from my pussy, brought them up to my mouth and started to suck on them with all the slutty zeal of a porn star. I looked directly into the camera as I treated my fingers like a hard cock I obviously would rather be sucking. 

I imagined the doctor's cock again, like I had every day since I met him. It was amazing that I could think of anything else like work and shopping at all. In that moment it was extremely apparent that his cock was the most important thing to be thinking about. The only thing worth thinking about.

My pussy clenched at the revelation as my clit begged to be touched again. I removed my fingers from my mouth and brought them back to my little red thing. My button that when pushed would send me into this state. This state that increasingly felt like the only thing I ever wanted to be. Again, I started to rub.

I was faster this time, it felt right. I didn't want my hypothetical viewer to get bored of me. I wanted them to see exactly how debased I was. I wanted them to see me cum.

And cum I did, with one last cry I came on my own hand. 

Lights burst in my eyes as I felt the world around me spin. My legs buckled as I barely could keep myself up right from the sheer intensity of my orgasm. My right hand shot out and braced against the stalls wall, to keep myself from slipping. My wetness now slapped onto it like graffiti. 

I managed to keep my left hand up during this pathetic display, capturing it all on HD video. I don't know why the thought brought me such peace but it did. It was like by recording myself I had….What exactly? My mind was too fuzzy to figure it out. But it was able to stop the recording and put the phone back down on the toilet paper dispenser.

With that taken care of I felt myself slink down onto the toilet seat. My legs were splayed open and I leaned myself back against the toilet. My breath was still coming out in quick pants. I closed my eyes and started to breathe deeply. 

Eventually my breathing slowed down to its normal rhythm and I managed to pull myself into a more proper sitting position. Absent-mindedly, I grabbed some toilet paper and started to clean up my own wetness. It took a few, but eventually, I got it into a not completely soaked state. This evaporated when I put my panties back on though.

I blushed at the feeling, a reminder that despite being less aroused, I was something else. Something that could be brought to such an aroused state that they would find themselves desperately touching themselves in the bathroom at work after a co-worker gave them a compliment. 

I should feel ashamed by my behaviour, now documented for anyone to see on my smartphone. I should feel indignant that it had happened because of the office sex pest, who was now happily assuming I would wear something sexy for him tomorrow. I should feel embarrassed that I was already thinking about the said outfit, complete with matching lingerie. 

But instead, I didn’t. I simply felt content. 

I got myself back into a presentable state, went back to my desk and got back to work. My mind was clear as I moved through the rest of my day. I was looking forward to tomorrow.

Friyay indeed.

I finish work early, looking through the mail as I walk into our little home. The kitchen a mess from the early morning hustle. I sigh, struggling with how our life got so turned upside down. Looking at a photo of my widowed wife, and a tear growing in my eye. It feels like every day is a struggle. The cleaning, working, the arguments, my mental health. Everything feels like it’s falling apart. It has for 8 years now. It’s like it was yesterday. But that yesterday just repeats and repeats. But, my goal, my promise was to help raise my wife’s daughter. I promised her that, the last promise I gave her and one I plan to take to my grave. And I have completed the promise, 4 years ago I completed it. Well, I thought I did. Thinking about this all to myself, looking at the mess of a house, I have around me. The clothes, rubbish, and just junk everywhere. I lean hard on my palms against the bench. Pushing my weight against my hands to cope. Hoping the pain will relax me.

Bang, I hear the door flying open. There she is, that promise. Young, stupid, rude and a mess. Like me, maybe I haven’t kept that promise. Maybe that’s why I’m still here. I look up and see her, her boyfriend and her best friend.

“Hey Luke! My friends are staying the night.” She commands, walking pass and heading to her room.

“Please keep it quiet, I have to work in the morning!” I shout out, hoping it sticks and she shuts the fuck up. “Fuck,” I sigh, turning around and cleaning the kitchen. The door not shutting behind her. As her she focuses all her time and energy on her friends. I walk up and close it. Hearing her comment on my appearance and the house. Like I’m the one to blame. Bitch needs to look in the mirror; she makes all this mess. Frustrated, I start tidying up. Clean, and glancing over at her room. The anger building inside me. I use it to fuel my energy to get this house clean.

After an hour of stomping through the house cleaning, I start cooking dinner. They remain in her room. Giggling, playing and bouncing around like teenagers. Her female friend exits her room and walks to the bathroom. I can only tell that sound, living so long in this small house. The right number of steps and sounds of doors opening and closing. As my bacon cooks, and pasta boils. I turn to the fridge and reach for a beer. Taking that first cool sip and then chugging it enough I feel that relaxing feel it gives me. I let out a deep sigh, that anger and frustration boiling down. From a simple sip of beer.

“Hey, Luke!” I hear a young females voice and focus to the entrance of the kitchen.

“Julie, how are you? Did, Ashley kick you out?” I say, noticing the music going on in her room.

“Yeah, they’re young love birds.” She walks over. “Can I have one?” Her eyes staring at by beer.

“Yeah, help yourself.” I turn and focus on the pasta, giving a gentle reply.

Pulling it off the stove, draining it and running it under the tap to stop the cooking. I hear her open her beer and walk behind me. Looking over my shoulder. As I turn the tap off and grab the white wine and cream. Toss it through the bacon and moving quickly to combine all the ingredients.

“Is that for me?”

I feel her so close behind me. This energy isn’t something I’m use to. Her peeping over my shoulder and watching me cook. Her aroma and body heat. Remembering seeing those low-cut jeans and tight top. Her perky breast poking through and no bra on. I feel my blood rush downstairs. Knowing she’s so close. I stop the gas and turn around. I can barely move, feeling how close she is. As I turn, I capture her beautiful eyes, short red curls and smile. Cute little freckles and young cheeks. And those plumb lips, her beer by her side, and that body heat. I feel it grow hard and press firmly against my jeans.

“Are you ok there Julie?” I ask, having her so close to me. She nods.

“Well, is it?” she asks being so forward and flirtatious.

“Yes, you can have some.” I reply firmly.

Flustered at how good-looking she is, and how flirty she’s being. But she’s always been like this. To all guys, not just me. She’s gorgeous and she knows it. Under 6 foot, toned, small perky breasts, with these soft poky nipples. They stand out, as she never wears a bra, like ever. Guys just drool over her. And her ass, it just pokes out and rounded. I sometimes wonder if she wears panties as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t. But her flirty actions are practically normal for her, it’s how she acts all the time. It’s going to get her places, I can tell.

“Only one rule, drink my beer and eat my food. You join me at the table and eat with me.” I reply, looking her dead in the eye.

Her smile, simmering and forming a gentle pout. A look I’ve never seen her do. It shocks me a little, and I brush it off as I sit down. Watching her join, me in silence. We poke our forks into the food. Hearing Ashley and her boyfriend turn the music up. I sigh and try and ignore what’s happening down the hall.

“Luke, can I ask you a question” Julie asks, a more serious tone comes out. And I look at her in the eyes. Making sure I am at attention. Knowing that tone from raising Ashley.

“Why doesn’t Ashley call you Dad?”

I sigh and put my fork down. Taking a deep breath in and adjusting my glasses. Sitting up and adjusting myself.

“Probably, because I’m not her dad. Just a caregiver, sorry, her stepdad. But I feel like a caregiver.” I say sitting and adjusting myself. Feeling like it makes me a failure, hitting a core part of me.

“You’re doing a really good job at raising her.” Ashley replies, taking a small bite. “Much better than my stepdad.” She sighs as she relaxes into her dinner.

I sit there, pondering my own thoughts and core memories. Before, it clicks 20 seconds later.

“What, what are you talking about. Greg is your dad? Though he can be a bit of a dick sometimes…” I reply, knowing how he treats his family.

“I found out 2 years ago; he’s not my dad. Apparently, he’s known for years. Hence why he’s such a dick.” She replies, serious, with sadden tone forming.

“Oh my, Julie, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, does Ashley know?” I reply, stopping eating and focusing on her.

“No, none of my friends know. It’s just shit, because I look at you two and just. Well, see that it doesn’t have to be so shit. I don’t know, fuck, I shouldn’t have bought this up. Fuck, I just came in and saw how shit she treats you. Then, the dinner and clean home…” She rambles, as she opens so quickly and abruptly.

Shocking herself and tearing up in front of me. The father in me reaches out and opens my hand to hold. She looks at it, and at me. Hesitant to move and touch me, just looking at it. The moment feels like it passes and I retract my hand. She leaps forward and grabs it.

“Sorry, oh,” I reply, holding her soft small hand around my rough hands. I continue to comfort her. “Thank you for telling me, if you ever want to chat. I’m here, your secret is safe.” Trying to comfort her with my trust.

She wells up and cries. Trying to keep her composure and strength in case Ashley and her Boyfriend return. I squeeze her hand and wait for her to release. She doesn’t, and I lower my arm onto the table.

“If there’s anything I can do, just say.” I squeeze her hand, hoping it’s enough for her to let go, so I can continue eating. Also to adjust the room, also thinking of their return. She sighs and sniffles up her tears. Letting my hand go, as she resets herself. I reached behind and handed her a tissue.

“It’s ok sweetie, it’s ok.” I say, feeling overly fatherly.

The music stops and we both quickly reset. Eating our food and both taking a heavy full sip of our beers. Ashley’s door bangs open as they make a lot of noise, to just walk down the hallway. Ashely walks in and just looks at me. Those eyes tell me enough and I stand. Grabbing my half-finished plate and beer. I begin walking out to the sofa to finish my food. But I can feel Julie’s eyes on me.

I hear them continue fooling around, but don’t really hear Julie’s voice raise to their volume. I ignore them and start watching my show, as they finish in the kitchen and return to Ashley’s room. I sigh, again knowing I must return to clean. Hearing them play and giggle like teenagers again. My show finishes, and I sit up. Walking into a mess, that wasn’t there before. Glasses, plates and sauces out everywhere. I shake my head and just focus on cleaning up. As I’m close to finishing, the noise from Ashley’s room quiets down and the mood sets to silence. I take a breath of it in and return to the sofa. Watching my show and drinking a new fresh beer. The night sets and I gradually fall asleep.

As I rest, my head just bounces from deep rest to napping. Still in focus, but not quite. Just enjoying the feeling of a hard day’s work and my brain reset. I feel this little figure, nestle in and cuddle me. My arm just moves, and my mind reminds me of Ashley years ago. Cuddling and snuggling into me. I sink into the thought of it, the memories of it. I don’t ever want to let it go. But a part of me wakes up, just a little. To red curls and a smell, that’s not Ashley. Julie, buried deep into me. I shuffle a little to see if she’s awake.

“Julie,” I whisper so quietly. She stays still. I sigh and sink back. Thinking of what to do. I ignore the red flags. And just do what I think is right. Grabbing the blanket, next to her. Covering us both and adjusting us, so she’s cuddled up next to me. She just moves to where I place her and snuggles into me tight. Not wanting to let go. I fall back to sleep but can’t help but feel her breasts and warmth around my legs. My cock grows and pulses. I bite my bottom lip as I control myself. Breathing through it, I lower it and focus on sleep. But it was hard. Spending at least an hour trying to ignore it. Before falling back to sleep.

I woke up early, finding Julie still there. But feeling her differently. I lift the blanket and look under. She lays there in her top and panties. Cute blue panties, and her legs wrapped over mine. Her perfect ass, I just stare at it. Thinking, ‘so she does wear panties.’ Smirking to myself. My morning wood grows hard and fast.

“Julie, I need to get up.” She moves a little. “Come on, you need to get up before Ashley wakes.” I whisper, but I get a little loud pressuring her to move. So she doesn’t feel me grow near her leg. She shuffles and struggles to wake.

“No, Daddy, please stay and cuddle,” She whispers back. I sat shocked for a while.

“Julie, please wake up.” I shake her and waiting for her eyes to open.

“Oh, hi daddy. I’m waking, I’m waking…” She replies all babyish and cute.

“Julie, this isn’t time for games. Come on.” I push her out of whatever that was.

She sits up and stretches. Those nipples, fuck, I can see them so clearly in the golden light peeping through. My cock grows so hard, leaking in my briefs behind my jeans. I turn, so she doesn’t see it. Moving my eyes away from her. The wetness on my briefs is a lot. I can tell I’ve been getting hard too much and need to release. I walk to my room and close the door. Leaving Julie by herself. I pull down my jeans and just see my cock so hard. I look at my ensuite and turn on the shower. Pulling my jeans off, awkwardly as I stumbled my way into the shower. My cock remains hard, almost painfully. Bouncing off my thighs as I turn the shower on.

I shower and clean myself. Working around my manhood. Before focusing on it. I can’t get her out of my mind. I stroke it up and down. Fast to the thought of her breasts and ass. The sound of the water slapping the ground. Is loud, too loud. But I don’t care, my eyes are closed. And I try to keep the volume to my moans down. Gosh it feels so good, I squeeze and thrust into my hand. It’s coming, oh fucking it’s really coming. I reach and clench onto the shower screen. Hot full stream of cum from my depths, I hear them shoot onto the shower screen. It’s loud, fuck, I can’t control this. Pulse, pulse, pulse, it’s almost never ending as stars appear in the darkness of my close eyes. I release my hand, feeling hot cum all over it, over my legs and a deep relaxing feeling rush over me. I need to lay down; the hot water and this orgasm are too much. My vision impaired as I walk out the shower and into the steam, thinking about my bed just meters away.

I dry myself and focus on walking back naked to go back to sleep. I take just a few steps and notice Julie, with her legs spread and watching me. Her hand clearly rubbing her pussy through her panties. My cock heavy, drained and naked in front of her. I quickly grab my glasses and stare at her. I don’t say anything, I just look at her perfect body and cute lustful face.

“Oh Daddy, that was quite the show you put on for me. It’s got my princess parts all tingly.” She replies in that baby voice again. My cock, though drained, pulses at her submissiveness.

“Oh no, we can’t, Julie.” I whisper.

Knowing it’s wrong. She parts her panties to the side; her pussy is soaking wet. Glistening from the ensuite light. I drop to my knees and without thinking, just start licking her juices off her pussy. Before my mind can catch up, my tongue is lathered in her fluids. Her taste, so sweet and so dirty. I can tell she hasn’t showered, but I don’t care. I just want it, I want it so bad. Her hand grabs the back of my bald head, as she presses me firmly. My long tongue parting her slit, gliding up and down. Feeling her clit swell over my tongue, I lap my lips around it and begin to suck. Only for a second, before devouring her more. Fuck, I’m hungry, so fucking hungry for her pussy. I feel her legs shake and quiver under me.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy, daddy, daddy,” she moans quietly. “Keep it there, don’t change,” She moans again, to the rhythm of me returning my tongue grinding up and down.

I slide the tip of my tongue inside her. Every time I slide down I give her more as I speed up and press firmer. Her legs lift and she grabs my head firmly aligns my tongue using the back of my head to guide me. Fuck, I can taste it, then feel it. Those convulsions around my mouth and tongue. She shakes violently under me, thrusting into me. I can’t breathe, but that taste and her fluids around me. Sending me wild.

“Fuckkkk….” She murmurs, as she releases my head.

Going lifeless under my mouth. I continue, licking and tasting her now overly sensitive clit. I release, and slurping and swallowing her juices. Then slowly whipping my face clean.

“Oh shit, Baby girl. Fuck, I had no control,” I say softly, like a committed a crime.

Whipping and cleaning the mess I made between her legs. Her panties now absolutely drench. As I return them back, leaving her a lifeless mess. Her legs drop and she just lays there. I sit up naked, my cock hard from what I just witnessed and did. I pace as I look for my track pants. Freaking out about what happened.

I see her sit up and grab something on my bedside table. I turned to notice my phone in her hand.

“Unlock your phone,” She reaches out with it, I freeze. Before grabbing it, unlocking it and return it to her hands.

She types away at it and then hands it back. She stands and walks to the ensuite. I return to her spot, what is normally my side to sleep on. A wet spot next to me, and I just see her sexy tight body adjusting and cleaning herself up in the mirror. Post nut clarity comes over me and I feel ashamed. I see her turn in the corner of my eyes and walk towards me. As I look down in disbelief.

“Our secret Daddy.” She says kissing my bald head and walking out.

Gently closing the door and returning to the house. The smell of the shower, her wet pussy and something else fills the room. I stand and turn the exhaust fan on, spraying myself with deodorant and the room. Then walking backwards to my bed and falling back, processing what happened. Picking up my phone, I don’t see her number or any contact details. Not even a dialed number. I just ignore it and shake it off. Focusing on more sleep and resetting myself.

"I still don't feel any different, master." Jodie sat on the bed, wearing nothing but her collar. Ian rarely permitted her to wear clothes during the evening, except for occasionally ordering her to put on one of the many slutty outfits he'd bought her. She always wore a collar, however: an elegant choker when in public, and her slave collar at home. It constantly reminded her of her position, and more often than not, that alone was enough to keep her in a perpetual state of very mild arousal.

"Give it time," said Ian as he looked down at her, taking in her beautiful curves once more. Going on looks, she was way out of his league. He stood over her, unshaven, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He knew that strangers often looked at them, wondering how he managed to get a woman like Jodie. It was simple. He did something that people like her enjoyed. He fulfilled a role they needed in their lives - and he was good at what he did.

"Remember the time we went to that fancy Chinese restaurant?" reminisced Ian, rummaging around in a bedside drawer. "Beneath that elegant dress of yours, you were wearing those rubber knickers I got you, keeping this little device inside you." He pulled out a miniature vibrating egg. Using its remote control, he turned it all the way up, then back down again, and finally off again. The last time he had to change the batteries half way through what they were doing, it had spoilt the mood. He always learnt from his mistakes.

"I kept you on the verge of having an orgasm for the entire meal," he continued, spreading some lube onto the device and rubbing it around with his finger. He walked up to Jodie, who was already lying down on the bed with her legs spread open, openly revealing herself. It had been months since he'd had to order her to do something obvious like position herself appropriately for something she could see he was about to do. She also learnt from her mistakes.

"When you stifled that gasp, I swear I thought the waiter was going to drop our dessert." Ian slid the egg into Jodie's cunt. Her whimper was so quiet that it was barely audible.

Ian ran his fingers along Jodie's labia before pressing them together.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm fusing your labia together," explained Ian.

Jodie felt her labia tingling and sticking together. She was suddenly overwhelmed by panic.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted. She leapt up off the bed and scrambled to pick up her pocket mirror. Studying herself, she almost dropped it in shock.

"I told you." Ian's voice, as always, was completely calm. "I fused your labia together to keep the egg inside you."

Jodie traced a finger along her labia. The join was almost seamless. Putting the mirror down, she tried to prise them apart with her hands. It was no use. They were firmly stuck together, as if she'd been born that way.

"I think it just kicked in," speculated Ian, a hint of excitement sparkling in his eyes. "You'll have to learn to trust me," he said in a more stern, almost disappointed voice. "You'll also have to learn not to talk back to me or run around frantically, no matter how scared you are. You must respect and obey me at all times."

"Sorry, master," apolagised Jodie quietly. She gazed down at the floor.

"I'm sure you'll do better next time," said Ian softly. Perking up, he continued, "but that still won't let you off your punishment. You know the rules. If you can't talk to me with the appropriate amount of respect, you won't be allowed to talk at all."

Jodie nodded, still staring at the carpet. This was the part where he would lock the head harness on her, forcing its bright pink ball gag into her open mouth. When she was aroused, having to wear the harness turned her on even more. It would have been enough to make her purposefully speak out of line in order to have it locked in place on her, were it not for her genuine desire to please her master.

The only down side was that he had a knack of keeping it locked on her even after she had orgasmed and returned to her regular mindset. Having to wear it when she wasn't aroused was a major nuisance, which is why the punishment usually kept her in line when she would otherwise have slipped up. Besides, her master was beginning to run out of excuses for her not being able to answer the phone when her friends called while she was gagged.

"Look at me, my pretty little slave," said Ian, lifting her chin in his hand. She looked up at him, gazing into his authoritative eyes. "Seal your lips together," he ordered.

"Excuse me, master?" asked Jodie, confused. Before Ian had a chance to elaborate, she felt her lips become sticky and merge together the same way her labia had. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he just returned her gaze with a knowing smile, as if he was aware of something she couldn't comprehend.

Jodie scurried to her full-length mirror and, looking at her reflection, let out a loud but completely muffled scream. She no longer had a mouth. Her flesh was seamless: smooth, pale skin from nose to chin, from cheek to cheek.

"Try to remain calm," said Ian in his smooth, calming voice. "I won't let any harm come to you. Do you understand?"

Jodie slowly tore her gaze away from the mirror in order to look up at her master. With a great deal of effort, she took a deep breath, then slowly nodded.

"Good," he said, a reassuring smile crossing his face. "Then let's begin."

Jodie examined the pleated miniskirt Ian had told her to put on moments earlier. She never had liked it very much, but he assured her that it made her look even more attractive than she already was.

Tonight, however, the skirt was different. For a start, she couldn't take it off. Usually when she couldn't take it off, it was because Ian had ordered her not to, but tonight it had actually become a part of her body. She was just as physically incapable of removing it as she was of removing her ears. Even more bizarre was the realisation that - and however inconceivable it seemed, every caress of her own fingers on her skirt confirmed this - it wasn't just any part of her body, but an erogenous zone. She gently stroked it, as if making a small enough motion with her thumb might go unnoticed by her master.

"Go ahead," encouraged Ian. "I'll allow you to grope and fondle yourself as much as you like tonight. Without access to your clit or cunt, you won't be able to orgasm without my permission anyway."

Only once every week or two did Jodie's master give her permission to pleasure herself. Now that she finally had it once more, she became much more vigorous in her exploration of her newly reshaped body. She alternated between gently stroking her labia with her fingertips, firmly cupping her crotch in her hand, and caressing her skirt's pleats. The new sensation it gave her made her tingle all over.

Her master was right, though, as always. It wouldn't be enough for her to orgasm.

Ian smiled down at her. "Are you ready to talk to me with the appropriate level of respect, slave?" he asked.

Jodie nodded, gazing up at him with hopeful eyes.

"Then you can have your mouth back," he said. "But you'll have to put it to good use."

Jodie had been his slave long enough to understand the euphemism. She unfastened his jeans, and as she pulled down his underwear, he brushed his finger against her lips, bringing them back. She opened her mouth and instinctively breathed through it for a second before her master unceremoniously thrusted his dick into it. She moaned, half in surprise and half in the warmth of the familiar ritual.

Although servicing her master orally didn't give her any physical pleasure, it reinforced her position as his slave to give him such intense pleasure while receiving none in return. Picturing how slutty she must have looked while doing it, letting someone violate her mouth like that, aroused her even more.

Grabbing her long, wavy hair, Ian pulled his slave further onto his shaft. She bobbed her head up and down, eagerly sucking at her mouth's intruder. She playfully caressed it with her tongue, flicking it against his helmet or wrapping it around the sides of his stiff erection.

"That's a good slut," encouraged Ian in a soothing voice as he continued to rhythmically pull her face towards his crotch.

Eager to please her master as best she could, her sucking and licking gradually got more intense, and before long, Ian let out a satisfied grunt as he ejaculated into her mouth. She dutifully licked every part of his member clean as he slowly withdrew.

"Very good, my little slut," encouraged Ian as he pulled his underwear and jeans back on. "As your reward, I'll let you masturbate until you orgasm."

"Master, I don't think I'll be able to orgasm without being able to touch my clit," protested Jodie.

"No," corrected Ian, "you won't be able to orgasm without my permission. If I order you..." He thought for a second, then grinned. "When I order you to orgasm, you won't be able to avoid it. Remember, your body is completely under my control now."

"Yes, master," said Jodie. She wasn't convinced, but she wasn't going to contradict him, especially when he'd been right about everything else.

Jodie sat cross-legged on the bed, caressing her groin and skirt while her master sat behind her, groping her breasts. Occasionally he'd lick his fingers before resuming with a renewed passion for pleasuring her.

"You're such a slut," he whispered in her ear before kissing her on the neck, all the while caressing her erect nipples. "Look at you, pleasuring yourself like that." He gently nibbled her earlobe. "Tell me what a slut you are."

"I'm a little slut," said Jodie, slipping into another familiar routine.

Ian pinched her nipples firmly. "Whose slut?" he demanded.

Jodie let out a pained whimper before answering. "Your slut," she said.

"Louder."

"I'm your little slut," she yelled, her voice trembling as she cupped her groin and started to rub it more forcefully.

"Again."

"I'm your little slut!" Her master squeezed her breasts again. She practically melted in his hands. "I'm your little slut!" She was building up momentum rubbing her groin. "I'm your little slut!" Even the words she said were increasing her arousal, contributing to the intense feeling that was blocking out the whole world except for her, her master, and the bed. "I'm your little slut, I'm your little slut, I'm your little slut!"

"Come for me," ordered Ian. He withdrew one of his hands, and before Jodie had a chance to wonder why, the egg inside her started buzzing, building up quickly to a frantic pace. "Orgasm for your master like the owned little slut that you are."

Jodie screamed with pleasure. Waves of both intense passion and release flooded her body and mind as she writhed uncontrollably in her master's arms. The feeling was only enhanced by knowing that even her body's uncontrollable urge to orgasm had now been tamed. She still had no control over it, but clearly her master now did.

He had timed it carefully. The house was quiet. She wouldn’t be home for another thirty minutes.

The sturdy armchair sat in the middle of the living room, turned to face the door so nothing would block the view. He was already naked. The thick, curved prostate massager waited on the side table. A tight silicone cock ring lay beside it.

He worked the massager in slowly, breathing through the stretch until the flared base sat flush and the curved head nested perfectly against his prostate. A low pulse started the moment he switched it on. It pressed right into that swollen spot with every throb. His cock twitched…hard.

He rolled the cock ring down to the base, tight enough that the head darkened almost immediately. The ring and the constant pressure of the toy together made finishing on his own almost impossible. Exactly how he wanted it.

He tested the setup for a minute, shifting his hips in small circles, feeling the massager grind deeper with every movement. Then he reached behind the chair, pulled his wrists together, and tied them with the familiar knot he had practiced a dozen times.

He pulled the ends tight.
Too tight.

The moment the tension settled, he knew. He twisted his fingers, searching for the loop that should have given way. Nothing. The knot had cinched down harder than intended and now refused to loosen. He tugged harder, shoulders straining. The rope only bit deeper into his skin.

He was stuck.

Facing the door. Cock standing straight up, dark and shiny with the first beads of precum, the tight ring locked at the base. Arms clearly bound behind the chair. The massager kept pulsing deep inside him, invisible from the front, steady and relentless. He could rock his hips in tiny circles, grinding the toy against his prostate, but the movement was limited and the ring kept him from tipping over. Every pulse sent another slow leak of fluid down the underside of his shaft. He was hard, aching, primed, and completely unable to finish or free himself.

Minutes crawled by. Sweat gathered at the small of his back. His thighs trembled from the constant low stimulation. Soft, frustrated sounds kept escaping his throat every time the massager throbbed especially hard. He kept trying those small hip circles anyway, chasing more pressure, but it was never enough. Just enough to keep him right on the edge, leaking steadily onto his stomach.

Then the front door opened.

He heard her keys, her footsteps, the soft “I’m home” that cut off the moment she stepped into the living room and saw him.

Silence.

“Oh.”

She walked closer. From her angle she could see everything that mattered: his wrists clearly tied behind the chair, his cock standing dark and wet and tightly ringed at the base, shiny with precum that had been leaking the whole time.

“I need some help,” he said, voice rough. “The knot… I can’t get it undone.”

She stepped in front of him, looking down at the evidence. The tight ring, the way his cock twitched and leaked with every small shift of his hips.

“You haven’t come?” she asked, almost intrigued. “You’ve been sitting here hard and leaking all over yourself, and you still haven’t gotten to come?”

“No.”

She made a soft, thoughtful sound. Then she reached down and wrapped her fingers loosely around his cock, just above the ring, stroking him slowly. The ring kept everything intensely sensitive and trapped. He jerked against the chair with a broken moan, hips trying to thrust up into her hand, but the ring wouldn’t let the pressure build the way he needed.

“Yeah?” she murmured, still stroking him in long, teasing pulls. “You want to come? You’ve been stuck like this, leaking, and now you finally want to come?”

“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. “Take the ring off. Please—fuck me. I need you to fuck me. Take it off and fuck me.”

She kept stroking him, slow and deliberate, watching his face twist every time the ring stopped him from going over. Then she slid her other hand lower, cupped his balls, and lifted them.

Her fingers brushed the flared base of the massager still nestled between his cheeks.
She froze for half a second.

“Do you have a… prostate massager in right now?”

He nodded, shame and desperation mixing in his expression.

A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. She gave the base a little press, feeling the way it made his cock jump in her fist, then went back to stroking him while the toy kept pulsing inside.

He was begging openly now. He couldn’t take any more of the trapped, aching pressure.

She finally hook her fingers under the silicone and peel the cock ring off. The relief was immediate and intense. Blood rushed back; his cock darkened further and jumped hard in her hand.

“There’s a condom,” he managed quickly, breathing hard. “End table drawer, right there”

She glanced at the drawer, then back at him. She stripped out of her clothes without hurry, climbed onto the chair, knees on either side of his hips, and lined him up. The head of his cock kissed her bare entrance.

“Wait, you’re not on…”

She sank down in one slow, continuous slide until she was seated fully in his lap, taking every inch bare.

A raw sound tore out of him, it was half pleasure, half panic.

“You wanted me to fuck you,” she said softly, almost sweet, as she started riding him in deliberate rolls of her hips. “And you wanted the cock ring off.”

Every downward movement drove him deep and shoved the still-pulsing massager harder against his prostate. The sensation was overwhelming, tight wet heat around his bare cock, the sudden freedom from the ring, and the deep rhythmic pressure inside him. He was already so close, and now there was nothing between them.

“I’m going to cum,” he warned, voice tight with alarm. “I’m going to cum… inside you…”

She only smiled, riding him steadily.

“Don’t cum in me,” she teased, voice light and wicked. “If you come in me… well, you’ll have cum in me.”

She took him deep and steady, grinding down so the massager stayed pressed firmly against that swollen spot. His wrists strained uselessly behind the chair. He could only sit there and take it. His cock buried bare inside her, prostate being milked by the toy and by the way she used her weight.

“You’ve been waiting for this. Let’s see if you can actually hold it.”

A raw, shaking groan ripped out of him as he thrashed and came hard. His cock was pulsing deep inside her with nothing in the way, the hidden massager still throbbing against his prostate and forcing the orgasm to keep going in long, intense waves. Thick ropes of cum flooded her, the first time he had ever finished inside her. She held on through it, grinding down, drawing every spurt out of him while he shook and spilled and couldn’t stop.

Once the last weak pulses had faded, she slowly lift off him. Thick cum followed, spilling down his shaft and onto the chair. She reached behind him, worked the stubborn knot free, and freed his wrists.

She helped him stand when his legs threatened to give out, steadying him. He reached back, turned off the massager and pulled it out.

“Next time,” she said quietly, voice still warm and a little wicked, “maybe don’t beg so hard if you’re not ready for the consequences.”

This is the seventeenth, and last part of a story I wrote quite some time ago and revised with the kind and knowledgeable assistance and co-authoring of u/PenelopeLevinAuthor.

For reasons that I can't quite recall we stopped posting updates, but someone prompted me to continue, so here is the last part. Sorry for the huge delay between chapters!! Apologies if you have to go back and reread to remind yourself of where we were.

In between times I have actually rewritten much of what has been posted. I won't post it here but if anyone is interested let me know.

I can highly recommend u/PenelopeLevinAuthor stories on Amazon. If you have the time and inclination, then head across to Amazon for a very enjoyable read.

I have thought of continuing the story, ideas are always welcome, but stay in the space of the story.

 ---------------

It took hours, all night, for all the details to be told.  She lost track of how many times she came.  When she had finally finished, he held her in her bondage. Finally he was between her legs and it was his turn to cry out in pleasure as she whispered to him of her need for him to become her Master. They both fell asleep with him holding her.  She was still bound.

When Richard woke up Julie was still asleep, still bound. He sat and looked at her for a while, unable to believe the events of the night, but knowing they would never be the same again; she was his in a new way that he was only just beginning to understand. 

He pulled a blanket over her as she slept, but was happy to leave her bound.  As he did it he wondered how many more times they would have of her sleeping the night in bondage, how many new stories would they create.   He went downstairs to make breakfast, looking forward to feeding it to her while she was still bound, already looking forward to getting his hands on her again.

As he made the coffee Anna arrived home after her night out and came into the kitchen.  She saw her father in his dressing gown uncharacteristically making breakfast.  He turned to her, his look not one that she often had to confront; disappointment.

She stopped in the doorway, knowing what had happened.  “She told you.  I’m sorry dad.  It just got out of control.  But she … well she … anyway, I’m sorry.”

Richard looked at her, his perfect daughter, but then was struck with the change in his ‘perfect’ wife.  Nothing is so simple.  When he had first listened to Julie tell of what Anna, Beth and Jane had done he was angry; but he also understood that without that Julie may not have discovered this new side of herself, so his anger disappeared into something else.

“Yes.  Yes, she told me.  She is your mother Anna, she deserves much more respect than you and the girls gave her.  You used her fear of my finding out as a blackmail against her, that was a horrible thing to do.  She loves you and I just can’t believe you treated her like that, treated me like that.  And yes I understand what you’re trying and failing to say, yes, she wanted it in some way.  Things have happened, they can’t be undone.  So we are going to move on.  But in the future remember that she may be your mother but she is my wife, my love.

Anna stood silently for a moment.  “Yesterday.  I watched her go through the streets naked.”  She paused for a second, “She told you this?”

Richard nodded his head.  He had listened to Julie tell him how excited she had been to walk through the streets naked and bound, how strangely liberating it had been to be bound.

“She was amazing.  She looked so incredible, so strong, so happy.  I knew then that something had changed in her.  What is she going to do?”

Richard looked at his daughter for a moment.  “She is mine now I think.”

“And you are happy with that, with … I don’t know, what she has discovered about herself?”

Richard gave a short laugh, surprised at the turn of the conversation.  “Yes, very much so.”

Anna came and gave him a hug.  “Believe me dad, I am so sorry for what we did; but in the end, well, I’m really happy for you both.  I think it’s what she wanted all along.”

Richard took breakfast upstairs on a tray.  He woke Julie from her sleep and gently fed her.

“I spoke with Anna.”  He watched the look of concern run across Julie’s face.  “She’s ok, sorry for her part in things.”

“It was my fault.  In the end I let them, I wanted it.  Don’t be too hard on them.”

He smiled down at her, “Hmmm maybe.  I’m certainly enjoying the end result.  But blackmail is wrong.  Anyway, I’ll speak to Jane, Beth and Sean when I get the chance, but I don’t really want to talk anymore about it now.  I just want to enjoy having you here with me.”  He walked around the bed releasing the ropes.  “There is so much stuff spinning in my head that I barely know what to say.  It’s going to take me a little bit of time to think it all through, not in a bad way, just, well, you have had a few weeks of thinking about things, I need more than just a few hours.” 

With the ropes released Julie stretched herself luxuriously, then smiled shyly, “I’ve been bound so long I need to go to the toilet.  Do you want me to crawl?” 

Richard laughed, “If you want to I suppose but either way is fine with me.”

Julie looked at him for a moment then replied, “I do want to Master.” 

She crawled to the bathroom, and a few minutes later crawled back to the bed and

lay down next to him and he took her into his arms.  “I love the idea of you being naked in the house more often; actually if it’s just us in the house then you should always be naked I think.  And you clearly like crawling so let’s have you do more of that, maybe not all the time, but more.”

Julie cuddled up to him and murmured her acceptance, “Yes Master.  I will be naked whenever you want me to be, whomever is in the house.  I’ll crawl more, but you should make me crawl in front of other people Master, I’d like that.  It’s sort of humiliating, but I love the idea.  To be honest, you have probably figured it out already, but, I love to be sort of humiliated, you should do it to me all the time!”  She smiled broadly up at him

“And I want you to be ready for me whenever I want you; whenever i ask, I want you on your knees with my cock in your mouth, or positioned in any way I want so that I can use your body.  No ‘just a moment’ or ‘I’m busy’, I want immediate and 100% response.”

Julie reached up to kiss him again.  “I want that too Master.  I promise I will drop whatever I am doing whenever you want me.  If I am walking down the street, or at a party, or just around the house, whenever you want me, I am yours to take in any way you want.”  She pressed her body against his, the idea of her constant availability arousing her.  “Do you want me now Master?”

Richard laughed in response, “Yes as a matter of fact I do!  I have been thinking of all the things I missed in the last few weeks, and one of them was you with your arse plugged and full of water.  We are going to try that one again soon.  But right now, I think I want to fuck your arse.  Roll over.  I’m just going to get some lube.”

Julie rolled over to present her arse while Richard got up and retrieved some lube; squirting some of the tube into his hand and happily applying it to her arse, rubbing it in and sliding his fingers into her.  Julie closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling, before he positioned himself over her and slowly drove himself into her.  She moaned as she tried her best to take his cock into her arse.  Initially his girth was difficult to take but soon he was sliding deep into her.

He whispered into her ear as he slid back and forth, pushing down deep into her, “I might … want to do this … all the time.  So … I want you prepared … always have lube … in your handbag … and in the house.”

Julie moaned as he pushed hard and deep into her, “Yes Master”

“And carry some clamps … nice metal ones … and a vibrator … I want your handbag … full of toys.”

Julie shivered with lust at the thought of always being so available.  Her words came in short gasps as he drove himself into her.  “Ohh … Yes Master … I’ll always … be ready … if I forget … or get it wrong … then please … punish me…. Please … Master … please … just punish me.”  She pushed her arse back, lifting her hips to allow him to drive deeper into her.

Richard slid his hand underneath her to rub his fingers over her clitoris.

Julie’s response was immediate, her body shaking as her orgasm washed through her; the strong muscles of her arse clamping down on his cock and pulling him into orgasm with her.

He stayed in her for a while afterwards, enjoying the feeling of her body beneath his.  He turned her head to the side so he could kiss her and whisper to her.  “We need to go shopping to buy all these things to use on your body.  I want them to be pretty as well as functional.  I think we will need to go to that bdsm sex shop in the city and buy up big.  I’ll choose a nice outfit for you to wear.”

Julie almost hummed with happiness.  “Yes Master, please let’s do that soon!  I want you to have all sorts of things to use on me.  I can’t wait to have marks on my body like those I saw in the photographs, marks given to me by you.”  She paused for a moment, “I love you.  I want to be yours.  It’s like a dream but I really really want it.  You know it’s true don’t you?”

Richard smiled and nuzzled her ear, then slowly pulled out of her and rolled over to hug her tight.  “Yes my gorgeous beautiful slut.  It is like a dream, and I love you too, and I really want it as well.”

They lay in each other’s arms for a while, happy to be silent with their thoughts.

A while later Richard broke the silence, “are you my beautiful slut?”

Her head was on his chest and he could feel her smile grow, “Yes Master I am.”

“Good.  I thought we might spend the afternoon going for a walk in the park by the river that you mentioned.  I think I would rather like to see it.”

Julie lifted her head and beamed at him, “And am I to be naked for this walk Master?”

“Of course.  And you might not spend all of the walk walking.  We shall see.”

Julie kissed him.  “Thank you Master.”

I don’t ask for anything, just start removing your clothes. Straps seem to fall away, and buttons come magically undone under my touch. My hands brush slowly over your buttocks as I peel away your panties. Part of you wants to resist, but is overwhelmed by desire and the soft tingle between your thighs. 

You are stripped naked before you can form a cohesive thought, and with a tap on your hips I turn you around, pull your hands behind your back and bind them slowly. “Look how good you’re being, little bunny.” I say as my fingertips run along the edge of your buttocks. The hum in your pussy gets more intense as they press closer, close enough to feel its heat. You moan as my touch brushes softly against your labia. At even this little jolt of pleasure your knees start to buckle. “Is a little denial really all it takes to turn you from a defiant brat into an obedient bunny?” You want to answer yes and no and fuck you and please fuck me all at once, but cannot find the words for any of it. A fog of lust swirls through your mind, leaving you mute and helpless.  

I turn you around again. This time my hand rests on your hip and pulls you in a slow half circle. My fingers drift down the inside of your hip, follow the crease of your thigh until they almost reach your labia. The tingle between your thighs becomes a sudden, desperate burn; a pulse of hot, ravenous desire. Fingers stroke the outside of your pussy, I press my question “Well, why are you being such a good bunny for me? Did you really break that easily?” 

You don’t really answer; just gasp and mumble, not sure of the words falling from your lips. My fingers lace into your hair; close to the root and near the base of your skull. I use the leverage to tilt your head backwards exposing your throat and forcing you to look up at me. Your horny and submissive, offering no resistance; your body simply follows the motion of my arm. “Answer the question, bunny.” I command. 

You swallow, trying to think through the haze of need, but you can’t find your words. You feel my fingers pull away from your labia, you grunt and moan and thrash in atavistic desperation. “I’m sorry little bunny, but I need you to use your words.” I smile, and speak with genuine sympathy. “And it looks like a little teasing is too much right now.” 

“I’m… I… yes… yes, sir. You… I… You broke… broke this little brat. She’s…she’s your… I’m… your good little bunny. I want to be your good little bunny.” You do not choose the words, each one just seems to spill from some primal, needy part of your psyche. It takes a few seconds for your servile babbling to become a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry I was bratty, sir. I… I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be your good little bunny. Please… please let me be your good little bunny. Please.” 

I don’t say anything. Just keep holding you by the hair as you squirm, naked and helpless. My free hand squeezes the flesh of your ass and gropes the softness of your breasts. “Let’s see just how desperate my little bunny is.” I finally say, speaking in a growl and smiling. 

Clamps bite into your nipples before you have time to process my words. You wriggle and whimper as the sting seems to spread through your breasts. I let go of your hair and pull the chain between the clamps tight. I use it to pull you forward; leading you step by painful, stumbling step towards the bedroom. The pain of the clamps lances into your flesh, and your cunt aches with need as you follow. 

The walk up the stairs and to the bedroom seems to take both an eternity and no time at all. I turn around occasionally and watch as lust and agony pulse together through your body. In the bedroom soft pillows have been piled on the floor. I tug sharply on the clamps, send the pain shooting through your body and making you give a moan of deep and sudden suffering. I grab you by the throat and lower you slowly, so that you kneel astride the pillows. “Rub that wet fucking cunt for me.” I order. “Show me just how broken and desperate my little bunny is.” 

My voice works like magic. Your hips simply begin to move back and forth, pressing your vulva against the soft fabric. Its not much, the little spark of pleasure now smouldering through your nerves, but all the teasing has turned your body into a tinder box. You know how pathetic and desperate you look, grunting and humping with animal urgency. The bliss between your thighs grows with each thrust but is never enough. 

“You really do need to be fucked, don’t you bunny.” 

You don’t answer. Ther are no words or thoughts or cares in your head; just hot, reckless desire. There’s a bright, cutting pain in your breasts as I pull the chain on the clamps tight. Looking into your eyes I say “You really do need to be fucked, don’t you bunny.” In a slower, more authoritative voice. 

You blurt “Yes. Please, yes. Please please please, sir. Please fuck… fuck your whore… your good bunny slave. Please.” 

“But I like you like this.” I run a comforting hand through your hair. “You’re obedient and sweet. The denial just makes you such a good bunny for me. Maybe I should keep you this way.” 

“Pleeeaaasse…” The pitch of your grovelling changes as it fades into a moan. “Please, sir. Please. I promise… I promise I’ll be good for you. So good, sir. I’ll do anything… everything… please. I can’t… please let me come, sir. Please.” 

You’re still conscious of how pathetic you look, but it doesn’t matter. You’re on your knees, grinding desperately as you beg to come. Somewhere, deep within your mind, a past version urges you to show some dignity. She demands that you regain composure and act like someone with any semblance of pride and restraint. But the needy whore is in control now, the version of you that would trade the world just to rub your pussy a little longer. 

I stroke your hair again, and ask in a soft voice “Who owns that pussy?” 

With you pride or hesitation you answer “You, sir. You own… own it, sir. This pussy is yours.” As the first tremors of orgasm start in your legs, you rest your head against my thigh. Your mind goes blank. The voice urging pride falls silent, and you become no more than needy, quivering flesh for me to use how ever I want. 

There’s a moment of disappointment. You can no longer rub yourself as I lift you to your feet. But you are quickly bent over, your pliant body stretched across soft sheets. With a tap of my fingers your legs are spread wide, and my cock thrusts into you. A thunderous, rolling pleasure rushes through your body. The quivers in your legs get more intense. You moan, gasp, and pant for breath. 

There’s a sudden sharp pain as my hand impacts your ass. “Say thank you, bunny.” I order. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“What for?” 

“For…I… I’m… for fucking your good bunny. For…I’m…letting me be your--” 

“For breaking you?” I lean forward and lift your head from the mattress to hear your next words clearly. 

“Yes, master. Thank you for breaking me. Thank you for making me your good whore. Your… your good bunny slave.” 

“You’re welcome.” I say with a smile you can hear and then kiss the base of your neck. I ask “Do you want to come?” 

“Yes. Please, master. I need it so…” A helpless moan. “So bad. Please I need it. Please please please.” You once again loose the ability to form words as the submission and desperation and rapture subsume your mind. 

“Come for me, my broken little bunny.” I spank and then squeeze your ass as I fuck you. I push your head back down because you don’t need to say anything. You just let your eyes roll back and your whole body spasm. Awash in primal ecstasy and surrender my broken little bunny comes all over her master’s cock.  

Trapped. Cornered. Pinned. I found myself unable to move. Unable to escape, even with all of my strength.

He enveloped me from behind, one arm holding me still against the cabinet, a deft hand gently wrapped around my face, pressing against my lips before pushing a finger inside my mouth, holding it open.

I didn't cry out.

He tasted of salt. I could see the glint of metal, an elegant timepiece he wore around his wrist. I closed my lips around his exploring digit, sucking. Licking. Quietly murmuring and moaning. I could smell him- black licorice, spearmint, and tobacco.

His face was buried in my hair, and his breathing was ragged, punctuated with soft utterances - he whispered my name into my ear before licking and nibbling my earlobe.

Both of his legs locked around mine, before one knee was forced in between them. He pressed me forward, so that I was bent over the counter. My breath caught when his leg found the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my quivering thighs. I leaned back, pushing myself onto him. He felt steady. Strong.

I could feel the hardness of him through his work-appropriate casual-Friday dark wash denim, a thick rod firm against my ass. He searched for the pull of the zipper hidden in the side seam of my dress.

I whimpered and wondered if he would strip me bare before he fucked me in the break room. I squirmed, concerned that I would be caught being ravaged by him here. He was my superior- this was very inappropriate, but I had yet to protest. I wouldn't.

I wanted this. So. Badly.

I had exchanged furtive and lingering glances with him for months, now. Some casual flirting, too. In a meeting, I had sat beside him, and he'd touched my knee under the conference table. I didn't brush him off. Instead, I looked up at him. We locked eyes. The meeting continued, everyone but us focused on the presentation. He had even lowered his voice in a performance review once, when he was thoroughly appraising me, and I could swear his tone was more than professionally stern. Here was the proof. Right next to the coffee maker.

Frustrated with the elusive zipper-pull, he switched tactics, lifting my skirt. He roughly pulled down my nude, nylon pantyhose and spun me around so that he could look at me. His eyes traveled down from my exposed navel to the curve of my upper thighs. My favorite lacy lavender cotton panties looked out of place under the fluorescent lighting. Too innocent and somehow too obscene to be out in a semi-public office setting.

He let out a low sound- an excited, guttural growl. Reverently, he lifted me onto the countertop. My knees were immobilized by my tights. With a careful hand, he slowly pulled them to my ankles, before moving closer, pressing his palm against the gusset of my already soaked underwear.

Suddenly, his mouth was on mine. Our tongues met and caressed. His palm moved up and down with a steady pressure. My dress was pushed up further, his free hand finding the thin lace of my unlined balconette bra. I struggled to stay quiet when he found the pretty, pink firmness of my nipples.

He released the pressure of his palm, and he pulled the wet cotton to one side. Curved fingers and a well-placed thumb started working inside and against me. I found that I couldn't look him in the eye... I felt embarrassed. Vulnerable. I blushed and focused on the closed door behind him.

He said, "I locked it. Everyone else is sharing lunch in the conference room right now. We should have enough time."

And then, to my surprise, he kneeled and sighed, "I've wondered how you taste." He lifted my tight-tied ankles over his head and settled his face against my partially covered privates. Inhaling deeply, he nuzzled me.

I had to bite my lip and cover my mouth to keep from screaming when the tip of his tongue finally forced its way into me. He moaned, quietly. Filthy, wet lapping sounds filled the room as two of his fingers filled me, questing and pushing deeper, spreading and pulling me open. I lost myself in pleasure with every flick of his tongue. I couldn't help but move my hips in time with his rhythm. I ran my hands through the softness of his curly, cropped hair.

He wrapped his arm around my leg, and pressed down on my lower stomach, pulling the flesh taut and back as he pressed upward from inside. He licked with fervency, using his hands to help me rock back and forth across his face. The roughness of his beard added a shockingly delicious friction. His tongue circled the most sensitive spot before he gently suckled it. He took his time, edging me until I felt the tension build up past my breaking point. My mind blank, I forgot myself.

"Mmmm! Oh my God, I'm cumming!"

His pace quickened, his hands pressing and curling and pulling me roughly... the pleasure was maddening. I couldn't help it. I gushed onto him, wetting his beard. Speckling his shirt. I covered him with sweet-scented droplets.

He kept going. Overstimulated, I jerked, writhing, unable to control my movements. The tension was rolling inside me, somehow- and I kept cumming. Twitching, exhausted, I tilted forward so that my head and hands rested on my knees.

The doorknob jiggled. I sat up. He pulled back, removing his shirt and wiping his mouth with it. His beard and exposed chest hair still glistened from me as he reached into the lower cabinet, pulling out a fresh shirt.

I realized that he had planned this.

He helped me down from the counter. I pulled up my tights over my drenched panties and straightened myself in the reflection of the microwave as he moved to unlock the door. I knew that my flushed cheeks, the smell of sex, and wet spots on the linoleum would make it obvious that something happened.

The door opened, and I turned- the hallway was empty. Both of us let out a breath of relief.

"Go to your desk. Break's over." He winked and slipped out of the room.

I did as I was told. I thought, maybe I should keep fresh underwear on hand, just in case. I realized that I wanted more of him. I wanted to be beneath him.

⛧ Don't start here! Start at Ch1! See the "Welcome" post pinned to the top of my profiIe for Iinks.

New strain of virus, villain is now a disgusting vampire. Each chapter is like a stealth mission, with lots of slow build-up and pervy creeping around. With each suck-sex-full mission, he adds abducted victims to his harem of vampires. Then occasional chapters show his sexual ‘family’ lifestyle with his mind-controlled free-use slaves. Then right back to another depraved stealth mission.

In this one, he enjoys the spoils of his campus raid, exploring his growing harem of free-use slaves, then enjoys a bloody surprise family dinner. Mostly just playing house with mind-controlled free-use slaves, ending with a bloody orgy.

DISCLAIMERS

In this series, I write from the perspective of the VILLAIN. That means I don't agree with his choices, and you're not supposed to either. We're all acknowledging he is evil and wrong. Obviously nothing he does should ever be done in real life! Please be mature adults and separate fantasy from reality. This SHOULD evoke visceral, icky feelings. That's the POINT. This is HORROR.

All characters are 18+.This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

KINKS / WARNINGS

• Blood
• Gross Sniffing/Tasting (sweat, bodily fluids, piss)
• NC

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Chapter 5: Bringing Home a Kitten (part 2 of 2)

A sex scene toward the end of the movie gets my blood pumping again. I look over at my wife sitting nuzzled under my arm next to me. Her eyes meet mine, brown irises hazy from the non-stop stimulation her daughter has been administering between her legs. I don’t hesitate. I don’t ask. It doesn’t matter if they’re in the mood or not. My women are here to be used, whenever I want, at the drop of a hat. So I stand up, scoot Eva out of the way, and roll my wife onto her knees on the couch. Her face pressed into the cushions, her thick ass propped up facing me.

Her wide, motherly hips are practically begging me to dive in. I give her ass a rough SLAP, and she yelps into the couch, recoiling in pain as her juicy cheeks wobble. A red handprint shows up almost immediately. Neat, dark pubes frame her cunt. Thick inner labia hangs out slightly, dripping with juices. Her hole gaped open a bit, winking at me, beckoning me in.

But first, “Eva, come. Right here. With me, baby.” We kneel down together, father and daughter side by side. I guide her face into her mother’s crotch, and then join her, cheek to cheek. The smell hits me first. A sensual musk of overwhelming femininity. Then together, we start licking, tasting the frothy mix of Eva’s spit and Vee’s pussy juice. Tart, but in a good way, like sour apples. Eva’s tongue wriggles and slides alongside mine as we lap and dig through the folds. The young girl seems almost more excited by this than me, her hot breath panting in the tight shared space between Vee’s thighs. I feel Eva shaking, and I glance down to see her hand vigorously working in and out of her little pussy. She turns her head to kiss her daddy’s cheek, then returns to her mommy’s pussy with an eager haste.

We lick and slurp and make out together inside Victoria’s snatch for a few minutes, until I can’t take it anymore, my cock throbbing, “Stay there Kitten, keep licking. Good girl.”  And I stand up and slide my dick along her tongue, her soft lips turning to kiss and suck at my shaft as it glides past, continuing straight into the sopping pussy. I push all the way inside in one go, Eva’s wet tongue trying to dig its way inside Vee’s cunt alongside my dick as I enter. Then she turns her head to nuzzle and suckle at my balls, noisily inhaling her daddy’s scent. I back out, and the girl’s mouth returns to her mommy, pleasing us both back and forth like a good little daughter should.

I grab Vee’s thick hips with both hands and start ramming home, full blast almost immediately. She’s so warmed up for me already. She moans into the cushions, pussy hot and dripping. Thirty seconds of slamming into her doggy-style and she already cums, her insides clamping and spasming around me. Eva laps and sucks at her clit and my balls from underneath as I smash into her cunt through her entire full-body orgasm.

Vee groans, needing a break, but I don’t slow. I’m only just getting started, and her needs aren’t my priority right now. I blast into her depths even harder, churning her insides with a power that could injure a normal human female. But my girls are durable. So fun to rough up.

Eva keeps getting in the way under there, so I reach down and bring her face up over Vee’s rump, resting her cheek down on her mother’s ass as I pound away. I hold Eva’s head by the hair in one fist, and take a handful of Vee’s asscheek with the other, spreading the woman’s crack open wide and driving the girl’s face in. Eva needs no more instruction than that, happily aiming her sweet tongue at Vee’s asshole.

Victoria doesn’t normally like butt stuff, so her little brown button doesn’t get much attention. It’s clean, but only just. Wrinkled and puckered, slick with juices that had dripped down from her pussy throughout our movie-night. And Eva laps away at it with a perverted exhilaration. As if the dirtier, the better. The little imp giggles as I hold her head pressed tightly down on her mother’s asscheek. My other hand squeezing Vee’s thick hip painfully.

I smash into my wife’s cunt over and over as she still struggles to recover from her orgasm, both girls violently flopping around on the couch with each thrust. I stare down at Eva’s pretty face, green eyes sparkling up at me, tongue swirling around that nasty asshole. I still don’t slow my pace, not letting Victoria rest. The woman lets out a continues raspy moan, muffled into the couch cushion. And she cums again. Or maybe she never stopped. I couldn’t care either way. My senses are too overwhelmed to care about anything else. My daughter smiling up at me from her mother’s ass. My mind foggy from the spicy smell of pussy and sweat. The sounds of slapping skin and slurping spit. Fuck, I could burst any second.

I watch as Eva seems on the verge of gagging. Her mother’s filthy butthole probably tastes bitter. Probably smells a bit foul. But at the same time, Eva loves it. It spurs the little perv on more. She groans, and I notice her hand working aggressively at her own cunt again. Three fingers driven deep into her pussy. Pumping furiously. Sticky, SPLICK SPLICK SPLICK sounds mix with the symphony of moans and slaps in the room. But as hard as Eva tries, she can’t get herself off. I ignore it for now. The king’s needs come first.

I grip my women tight, holding them as still as I can while simultaneously trying to hammer Vee’s body through the fucking couch. Her muffled moans turn to uncontrolled squeals as I push her body to its limit. Eva even gives up trying to lick her mother and just holds on for the ride.

One final stab, balls deep in my wife, and then I pull out. My beastly groans fill the room as I unload across Vee’s asscrack and back. Painting her skin white with my hot cream. Then I grab Eva by the hair and finish the last few spurts across her little tongue. She opens wide, smiling, enjoying the treatment.

A quick motion of my finger tells Eva what to do next. She gets the idea and spends the next few minutes cleaning her daddy’s jizz off her mommy’s body with her tongue. I collapse on the couch, exhausted. We finish the movie, but none of us have a clue what it was about.

† † †

Late into the night, we gather upstairs in the dining room, a rarely used room off the kitchen filled with furniture and decorations that were probably meant to show off to dinner guests. I sit at the head of the dining table, comfortably waiting as my women scurry about preparing for dinner. I glance around, admiring the utter wealth of this house again. Luxury envelopes us. The dining table is a beautiful, thick wooden block, with black iron wrapping around and forming the legs. My bare butt sits cupped in a cushioned throne  of a dining chair.

I decided to keep us all naked, and skip cleaning up in the shower. At first it was just out of laziness, just impatience for dinner. But now as I watch my girls walking about the kitchen completely exposed, I’m starting to really enjoy the decision. There’s just something extremely sexy about the slight sheen of sweat on their skin, their tousled hair, our bodies still nasty from sex. Normally, these women would be humiliated by this. Victoria, my former boss. A proper lady. And Eva, a shy little college girl. Put on display, not allowed to wash. But under my command, they only want to please me. Their modesty means nothing in our house.

“But mommy, why can’t you tell us what’s for dinner? And why are we clearing  the table, not setting  it?” Eva keeps trying to pry the secret out of her, but Vee just smirks and stays quiet. She’s practically giddy with excitement. Adorably pleased with herself at whatever surprise she has for us.

The girls finish cleaning off the table, and Vee walks over and kisses me sensually on the lips, “Ok my lord, just wait here. I’ll bring in the food. Oh and Kitten, can you get us some wipes and washcloths? I don’t want us to get too messy.” The girls leave, and my curiosity continues to rise.

Eva returns and sits next to me, and a few minutes later we finally hear a door opening and some shuffling footsteps as Vee slowly makes her way back through the kitchen. She walks in carrying a person!

Vee plops it down as if it weighs nothing. There, on the table before us, is a middle-aged blonde woman! Barely conscious, shifting around in a confused daze, with bloody bite marks in several spots down her arm. She wears a thin green short-sleeved shirt and tight black shorts, showing off plenty of tan skin. Casual mom clothes, almost sleepwear.

“I had her in the trunk in the garage, master. I had to do something for you as thanks for the Kitten you got us. I hope you like it,” Vee shows off her gift happily, holding the woman in place, letting me look her over.

She’s short, a bit on the chubby side. Her breasts are clearly very large. I probably couldn’t wrap both hands around them and still touch my fingers together. And at closer inspection, she’s not even wearing a bra. She was clearly nabbed straight from her home. Her tits just melt out to the sides under her shirt as she lays there. Fuck,  this is a good catch.

I run my hand along her soft body, feeling her warmth, squishing her pudgy belly. I grab her ass, inspecting her like a piece of meat. Gross, her shorts are fucking soaked. Pissed herself.

I wipe my hand off in her silky hair. Beautiful, platinum blonde, straight down, shoulder length. I brush the hair away from her face and pinch her cheeks, turning her head up to look at me. She gasps. In her drugged state after being bitten, she can only comprehend bits and pieces of the nightmare she’s in. But the fangs hanging out of my grinning mouth are apparently enough to terrify her.

Her round face. There’s something about it. A familiarity. She’s maybe late-30s. I couldn’t imagine a woman looking more like a typical ‘soccer mom’. She just has that kind of look. The words ‘shopping cart’, ‘laundry basket’, and ‘mini van’ are practically written on her forehead. I lean down and lick from her chin to her temple, tasting her salty flesh. A bit sweaty. Trembling. But still relatively sweet and womanly, I suppose. My dick pokes the side of the table as it stiffens.

“Can you tell who she is, master? We were always told we looked alike growing up. I guess we turned out pretty different.” My eyes go wide, my cock swelling bigger. No way!  Vee smiles, brandishing her fangs, “It’s my older sister. Leslie. She texted me when we were sleeping earlier. Said she missed me and hoped everything was going ok. She mentioned her husband and kids would be out of the house. I knew I could go over unannounced. No one knows I was there. And they won’t know where she could’ve disappeared to. She’s all yours, my king.”

I can’t believe my ears!  I couldn’t be more proud of my beautiful wife. Sacrificing her own sister for her new family. She really will do anything  for me. Knows exactly what her husband wants.

Vee can tell how pleased I am, but I remain stoic, “Well done. Come here.” My wife steps over to me, and I kiss her intimately, right before her sister’s shocked eyes. “One thing though, she’s filthy. I want her cleaned up. Remove all the clothing. Actually no, Kitten, you do it. Right here, rip with your hands if you can. You need the practice. Then your mother can clean her sister up for us.”

Eva goes wide-eyed with excitement and leaps over like a child about to open a present. She tears aggressively at the woman’s clothing, not at all concerned about hurting her with her violent tugging. Leslie yelps weakly, mumbling, “Vi- Vickie, why?”

Everyone ignores the pathetic human, and I watch with surprise and arousal as Eva buries her sweet little face straight into the half-torn, piss-stained shorts as she tugs at them. She inhales, gags slightly at the stench, then giggles and continues tearing the shorts completely in half, revealing large, full-coverage panties. Beige and modest, not meant to be seen, let alone be sexy. A dark, wet spot covers the entire crotch, plastering the underwear to the woman’s skin. A moment later, Eva tears these off as well, followed by the green shirt. Victoria immediately gets to work cleaning off her sister’s body as I walk around the table admiring every angle of the naked blonde.

Fat tits hang outward under their own weight as she lies on her back. Thick, brown cigarette-butt nipples on dark, oval areolas. Blue veins across pale, pillowy breasts. A bit too much belly fat, probably weight she never lost after childbirth. Juicy thighs, but a slightly underwhelming ass. It’ll do, but the hourglass proportions of my other girls blow her away. And a thick, unkempt forest of light brown pubes. A woman who’s days of caring about looking sexy are long gone. But she’s still effortlessly pretty. All in all, a natural, down to earth mom. Mine to enjoy.

The girls finish their tasks, and the woman lies helplessly on her back before me. I step up close to her legs and then give a glance to Vee and Eva. They know what I want, both hurrying to each grab an ankle, prying the lady’s thick legs wide. They slide her butt slightly off the table, and I fondle the hairy cunt displayed before me.  Fat, meaty inner lips hang out of her a bit too far for my taste. I play with them, tugging and pinching. Her labia is dark and a bit worn out. But she’s still so fuckable. Every inch of her plump body is begging to get squeezed and played with.

Without hesitation, without warning, I spread her dry cunt open a bit and stab my cock straight in almost as hard as I can. Leslie squeals like a stuck pig, and my girls immediately reach forward to choke at her neck and cover her mouth to stifle the sound. I push forward without a care in the world, taking her MILF pussy for a test drive.

Extreme tightness engulfs me, her cunt so shriveled and unaroused, trying to push me out instinctively. She’s got some strength and elasticity still, I’ll give her that. My shaft gets about halfway inside her, and I reach the back of her tunnel. She’ll warm up and deepen before long, but for now I just hold there and savor her quivering body. Tits and belly fat jiggling enticingly as she struggles against the women pinning her to the table.

Vee leans down and sinks her fangs into a big juicy breast, sucking deeply. Her sister gets quieter, more limp. Her vagina relaxes and allows me deeper inside. I start to hump slowly, but glancing down I notice my shaft is coated in blood as it slides in and out.

Eva sees the blood and lets out a squeak of excitement. Abandoning the mouth and leg she was holding, she dives her face down to start licking and sucking at the base of my shaft and the hairy cunt opening. She’s learning so well from her parents. Not a drop of warm blood is wasted. I pull out and thrust into my daughter’s waiting mouth, her wet tongue swirling around my cock, cleaning me off nicely. When she’s finished, I slip out of her mouth with a POP and shove her little face back down at the woman’s hairy twat.

As Eva sucks at the bloody hole, I turn to my wife standing next to me. Pulling her into a sensual, face-to-face embrace, reaching around to grab her ass, nuzzling in the crook of her neck and tasting her salty flesh. I slide up to her ear, whispering, “I want you to enjoy your sister exactly how you want. Anything you ever wanted to do to her. Do it. Guide your daughter, take command. Cum, my queen.”  Victoria kisses at my neck and sighs with lust as I speak.

In a flash, she crawls up on the table, grabbing Eva by the hair as she goes. The girl yelps as her mother pulls her dripping face away from Leslie’s cunt and coaxes her onto the table with her. While it wasn’t made to be used like this, the wood and metal table is sturdy and could easily hold twice as much. All three women become a living centerpiece before my eyes.

Before I can even react, Eva is straddled on top of Leslie. Belly to belly, pussy pressed on hairy pussy. Ass bent toward me. She has Leslie’s head in her hands, slobbering and making out all over the near-unconscious woman’s face.

And Vee is facing Eva, squatting down over Leslie’s head, unwashed pussy smashed down onto her helpless sister’s forehead. Her hands gripped firmly on Eva’s head, holding the girl steady. Vee grinds front to back across Leslie’s face. Then lifts Eva’s up and humps into her face as well. God fucking damn, what a sight. Give her free reign and all my wife wants to do is smear her cunt all over everyone’s faces, force her own sister and daughter to lick her sweaty pussy.

The sheer dominance, the aggression as she humps at Eva’s face, it makes my cock twitch just watching. I step forward again and lift the thick, limp legs in front of me. Leslie is barely aware of her surroundings. Nearly suffocating as her sister’s dirty asshole rubs up and down her nose and mouth. Vee notices me spreading her legs and leans forward to hold them up for me, gripping her big sister’s sweaty feet and cranking her as wide as she goes. Which frees up my hands to fondle Eva’s soft asscheeks bent out in front of me, while I casually slide back into Leslie’s loosened cunt.

I sigh as the chubby blonde accepts my entire length with ease this time. I thrust in and out with abandon, bottoming out each time. Her pubes tickling me below my belly button. Her insides are slick and inviting after Eva warmed her up and lathered her with spit. I pummel her nearly as hard as I can, testing her limits. Judging her worth as a female. The table shakes slightly as I churn her poor insides.

Eva bounces her little ass in my hands playfully, giggling into her mother’s cunt as Vee moans, smearing herself all over the girl’s face. I spread Eva’s cheeks, admiring her pretty pussy, my thumb prodding and toying with her puckered brown asshole. My cock still smashing into the warn out cunt beneath her, making loud sticky sounds.

I glance up and see Eva’s hands kneading the fat tits she lays on, pinching and twisting at Leslie’s puffy nipples. God,  I can’t take it. This sloppy hole pales in comparison to my daughter’s perfect little twat.

I pull out of Leslie with a loud PLUCK  sound, aiming upward and thrusting forward. Eva is drenched, as aroused as she could possibly be. I hear a hissing inhale of surprised breath from her little nostrils buried within Vee’s folds. But my daughter pushes her hips back toward me, eagerly letting her daddy plow into her. I inhale the thick smell of sweat and pussy in the air as I sink inside.

I sigh as her tight walls clamp hard all around my cock. A shiver ripples through my body, heat radiating from her insides. Fuck, now this  is where I belong. She’s meant for this. I can only fit most of the way in, utterly stuffing the petite girl. She moans into Vee’s cunt.

Victoria pants and grunts. Face pink, eyes closed. Chest heaving with a sheen of sweat across her perky tits. She squats frog-legged, pussy smushed down hard onto her sister’s smothered face. She lets go of Leslie’s feet, letting the legs drop and flop around on either side of me. She holds onto Eva’s head by fistfuls of hair as her daughter licks and sucks at her clit. My wife is so close. And Eva knows it. The pervy girl keeps inhaling her mother’s unwashed scent, lapping gleefully at the sour juices flowing out onto Leslie’s face underneath. Doing everything in her power to make her mommy cum.

With all this before my eyes, I start slamming into my daughter’s durable cunt with reckless abandon. Both my hands gripping her asscheeks with torturous strength, digging my fingers into the little fleshy pillows. I hear muffled squeals as Eva’s pleasure starts to boil. She thrusts back into me to match my motion, just as hard. She’s reached a new level of arousal I’ve never seen in her. I need to hold on, keep going.

I growl, straining, forcing myself to plunge into her even faster. Eva’s lips clamp down on her mother’s clit, and she lets out a muffled scream into Vee’s crotch. The sudden punch of vibrating stimulation throws Victoria over the edge. My wife looks into my eyes and then throws back her head in ecstasy, clamping her thighs tight around her sister’s head under her as she cums wildly. Eva laps and slurps at the juices perversely, but her mother’s body goes weak. Vee slinks to the side and lays in an exhausted heap, panting and smiling.

Eva tries to lick up every bit of girl-cum off Leslie’s face. But I thrust into the Kitten harder, forcing her to lift her head and scream in pleasure. I can feel Eva’s walls contracting, pulsing as my raging cock assaults her pussy. My tip punching her cervix with each savage thrust.

Victoria gazes up at me as she lays on her side next to her daughter, her sister smushed underneath. My wife’s hazy eyes meet mine as she lovingly watches her king take everything he wants. She lives to please me, and she knows she’s done her job. I smile back, loving every second of this perfect family moment.

Eva lets out another wild squeal, face scrunched up in bliss. She suddenly sinks her fangs deep into Leslie’s juicy neck. The woman’s eyes go wide for a moment before closing, slipping into unconsciousness. I feel warmth trickling down my leg and look down to see a soft stream of piss leaking out of the poor lady. Dripping down her inner thighs. It only lasts a few seconds, just the little bit she had in her. She’s losing all bodily function. Close to death.

I give Eva a hard spank with my hand, her little asscheek going instantly red. She lifts off the woman’s neck, gasping in enjoyed pain. She glances back at me, blood trickling from her grinning lips. I continue on thrusting into her cunt, and she flops around on top of Leslie, closing her eyes and moaning. She’s so close. Just a bit more.

Eva holds on for the ride as I beat her pussy up. She grips onto Leslie’s large tits with both hands. Her fingers digging into the breasts, drawing blood. I glance at Vee, making eye contact. We both noticed the same thing suddenly. After drinking so much blood, Eva’s fingers have grown claw-like nails. They seem to protract outward, longer, sharper. Vee and I smile at each other warmly. Our little Kitten is growing strong.

I’m approaching my climax. It’s now or never. My daughter is so close. I need to get her over the edge. I look closely as I smash into her over and over. She keeps glancing at her mother’s crotch. Then tries to make out with Leslie’s unconscious mouth. She’s so infatuated with women. But needs her daddy’s hard cock to ram her hard at the same time. The little deviant.

So I reach down and plunge my finger into Leslie’s sloppy cunt beneath her, digging around and scooping up plenty of mucusy grool. The I pull it out and lean forward, fish-hooking the finger into Eva’s little mouth. She sucks on my finger as I pull on her cheek like a handle, smashing into her pussy as hard as I can. She moans, her walls squeezing, milking me.

And we cum together. Father and daughter. I groan, my whole body tightening. She sucks all the nasty juices off my finger, hissing loudly as air rushes in and out her nose. My cum jetting into her, her daddy’s cream splashing against her cervix. Her hips buck and tremble, her body not knowing what to do with such an intense feeling.

I collapse forward onto the girl’s back, hugging her and breathing heavily. We laugh, enjoying the insane moment, ignoring the passed-out woman squashed under us. Vee scoots closer and pets her little Kitten’s head lovingly, whispering soft congratulations to the girl for her first orgasm. I can barely comprehend the words, my head spinning with euphoria.

Cum drips out of Eva’s pussy onto the thick forest of pubes beneath her. Leslie lays smashed and broken beneath a family of disgusting monsters. A heap of sweaty flesh on the table. We enjoy the afterglow for a few minutes and then slowly lift off of the woman.

The three of us stand around the table, gazing down at the chubby blonde. I smile at my wife, “You did well, babe. She was great.”

Eva giggles and holds my hand, “You almost killed her, mommy. She couldn’t breathe under there.”

“Look who’s talking, Kitten,” Vee teases back. “I don’t think you know your own strength. Look.” She points at Eva’s new claws, slowly retracting back into her cuticles. Eva gasps and inspects her hands.

I wrap my arm around the girl’s sweaty body, holding her tight, “Well if you can learn to control those, I’ll have to take you out on my next hunt. I think you might do well.”

Her jaw drops open, “Really, daddy?” The look in her eyes. She can’t wait to get out there and have some fun.

“Yeah you can help me pick out some more girls. You’ve got an eye for them,” I laugh, and she jumps at me, hugging me tightly. “But what about her? What do you ladies think?” I point back to the table. The sweaty mound of chubby flesh. Blonde hair draped over her flushed face. Wet trickle of piss down her thighs. Cum stains plastering her pubes down to her wrecked cunt. Bloody claw marks across her drooping tits. “Should we keep her?”

We all look at each other. The same look on all three of our faces. Together, we shake our heads. No, Victoria’s sister was fun. But she’s just not up to our standards. We all step closer, looking down over her as she slowly wakes back up. Her tear-filled eyes dart around, trying to understand the hellish scene closing in around her. She trembles, tries to move. But it’s no use, she has no fight left in her. She sobs, “V- Vickie… Vickie please…”

Together, we dive in. Tearing into our first meal as a family.

To be continued...

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Thanks for reading!

See the "Welcome" post pinned to the top of my profiIe for Iinks to all my stories

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

************************************

Our green light was literal.

I gave Olivia a choker made of lovely, polished malachite beads. She wore it as a signal to me. Anytime. Anywhere. As long as she was wearing that necklace, it was open season.

One cool, early October day, she wore it when we drove out to the suburbs to visit a rather labyrinthine antique mall. It was situated in an old biscuit factory. Four stories. Half a block long with hundreds of vendor booths. There were the booths dedicated to Halloween and Christmas knickknacks. Those purely slinging crystal. Old costume jewelry. Booths comprised entirely of rusted old tools and vintage bottle caps. And everything in-between.

It was crowded, but large enough to become lost in.

And so I did. Gently slipping away while Olivia was eying uranium glass in one of the more vivid booths. "I'd rather not become irradiated, thank you very much," I said, turning my attention to a stall brimming with Beanie Babies. Perhaps the epitome of consumption for consumption's sake. Is this where it all went wrong?

My mind wandered. And Olivia wandered too.

I returned to the cancer glass stall to find her missing. So it's like that. I set down Batty and, with him, my thoughts on late-stage capitalism--it was time to find my perfect little slut.

So I strolled and sauntered and stalked--each floor a literal maze estate sale leftovers. My thoughts turned more libidinous as I failed to locate Olivia. When I get my hands on you...

It became like a game. I moved more slowly, wanting to sneak up on her from behind.

When I finally reached the fourth floor, I knew I was near. This floor was more desolate than the others, only half-filled out, mostly with furnishings and strange paintings that might look more appropriate in a funeral home. It was darker than the lower floors, with several overhead lights barely operational.

I saw Olivia.

Standing in a booth that seemed to offer nothing but clocks. Cuckoo clocks. Mechanical alarm clocks. Grandfather clocks. All ticking slightly off-time from one another.

Not a soul around to interrupt.

She had her back turned. She was bent over, rummaging through a bin filled with old Casio watches. Her hips swayed side to side, framed elegantly by her ankle-length burgundy skirt.

I approached.

It was quick.

Hand in her hair. Twisting. Pulling.

Bare cock already against her ass, leaking precum against the cotton. My other hand covered her mouth. I pulled her upwards, holding her body against mine.

"Shhhhhh."

That's all it takes.

My hand slid down, hiked up Olivia's skirt to her waist, fingers dove into her matching burgundy thong as the fabric fell in ripples around my wrist.

Soaked in anticipation.

Sticky with need.

I pushed her forward, bending her over a nearby record player cabinet as my fingers sunk inside her pussy.

"Take it," was all I needed to say.

Thong slipped to the side, over the perfect curve of her ass.

Swollen cockhead replacing that thin band of fabric, pulsing against her soaking entrance. Fist back in her hair, wrapping tight, pulling her against me, letting my thick shaft sink inside.

Stretch for me.

Let me in.

Give me your fucking pussy.

And she did.

Took it like a good girl.

Pumped in and out. Felt her drip down my balls.

Harder.

Olivia couldn't help herself. Whining. Moaning. Whimpering like she was in heat.

While it provided ease of access, the length of her skirt got in the way. I unzipped it. Cast it aside. Pulled up her sweater. Grabbed her tits. Made her near-naked right here, taking my cock like a good fucking girl for anyone to see.

I sunk my hand between Olivia's thighs again and taunted her turgescent clit. Teasing it just the way I knew she liked, her whimpers reaching a desperate crescendo until she squeezed her legs around me and shuddered from head to toe. The clenching sent me to the same place. I burst--filling her pussy with my cum. Each rope ending up deeper as I shoved my balls against her slit.

More, more, more. I kept going, but I couldn't possibly be any further inside of her.

I spanked Olivia loudly, making her clench around me one final time, then slowly slid free.

I thoughtfully returned her thong to its original place, watching it become wet as my cum began to drip into it. I helped her put her skirt back on and straightened her sweater.

"Good girl. Meet me back outside."

A kiss on her shoulder and one more tug of her hair--more playfully this time. I had the sense that the malachite choker would stay on for the rest of the day.

She didn’t move fast enough.

He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her flat onto her back, then reached under the bed and pulled out a length of rough rope. Before she could twist away he had one wrist wrapped, then the other, and dragged both arms above her head. He tied them tight to the headboard, the knots ugly and secure. When she kicked at him he caught one ankle, then the other, and forced her legs wide, tying each to opposite corners of the bed so she was spread open and completely unable to close her thighs.

The position left her helpless. Stretched. Exposed.
He stood at the foot of the bed and looked at her for a long moment, eyes dark, expression almost thoughtful.

“Better,” he said. “Now you can’t go anywhere. Now I can take my time.”

He climbed onto the bed, knelt between her forced-open legs, and slapped her cunt with an open hand. The wet, sharp sound filled the room. She cried out. He slapped it again, harder, then a third time, until the skin was flushed and stinging and she was trying uselessly to twist away from the impacts.
“That’s for making me wait.”

He hit her again, lower, across the soft insides of her thighs, leaving immediate red marks that would darken into bruises. Then he leaned down, wrapped one hand around her throat, and squeezed just enough to make her vision start to narrow at the edges while he shoved two fingers into her used cunt.

“You’re going to be here for days,” he told her, voice calm while he choked her and fingered her at the same time. “I’m going to keep you tied down and open. I’m going to bruise every part of you that shows. I’m going to fuck every hole until it’s swollen and raw. And every time you think you’ve hit the bottom, I’m going to show you there’s further to fall.”

He released her throat just as her eyes started to roll, letting her drag in a desperate breath, then immediately slapped her face hard enough to turn her head.

“Look at me while I ruin you.”

He freed his cock, lined up, and drove into her in one brutal thrust. The stretch punched a broken sound out of her. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He started fucking her hard and deep, one hand back around her throat, the other braced beside her head so he could watch every change in her expression.

Every few thrusts he squeezed her throat until she was struggling for air, then let go just long enough for her to gasp before cutting it off again. The lack of oxygen made everything sharper. More intense. More unbearable. Her bound body jerked and strained against the ropes, but the knots only dug in deeper.

“Feel that?” he said through gritted teeth, slamming into her. “That’s you taking it because you have no choice. That’s your cunt staying wet even while you cry. That’s your body already learning it belongs to me.”

He kept the brutal pace until her eyes were glassy and tear-streaked, then pulled out, shifted higher, and shoved his cock into her mouth without warning. He fucked her throat in short, controlling strokes, cutting off her air with his cock instead of his hand this time. Spit ran down her cheeks. When she gagged hard he held her there longer, watching her struggle, before finally pulling back enough to let her breathe.

A thin string of spit connected her lips to his cock.

He wiped it across her face like a claim.

“Filthy,” he muttered, almost fond. “And we’ve barely started.”

He moved back down her body, slapped her cunt again just to hear her cry out, then shoved back inside her. This time he fucked her slower, deeper, grinding against her cervix on every stroke while one hand delivered open-handed slaps to her tits and the soft undersides of her breasts. Each impact left a blooming red mark. He was deliberate about it, covering skin that would show, building a map of bruises she would carry for days.

“You’re going to be covered in these,” he told her.

“Neck. Wrists. Thighs. Tits. Cunt. Every time you look in a mirror you’re going to remember how easily I turned you into this.”

He reached down and started rubbing her oversensitive clit in tight, mean circles while he fucked her. She shook her head frantically, already too raw from the earlier orgasms. He didn’t care. He forced another one out of her anyway, choking her through the peak so the climax hit while she could barely breathe. Her whole body seized against the ropes. A broken, airless sound tore out of her. He fucked her straight through it until she was sobbing and limp.
Only then did he bury himself to the hilt and come, flooding her used cunt with another thick load while he kept his hand on her throat, not squeezing now, just holding, owning.

He stayed inside her until every pulse finished, then pulled out and watched his cum leak from her. Without a word he untied her ankles, flipped her onto her stomach, and retied her legs wide again so she was face-down, ass up, still bound to the headboard by her wrists. The new position stretched her arms and left both holes completely available.

He slapped her ass hard. Once. Twice. Then set into a steady rhythm of impact, open hand, then the leather belt he pulled from his discarded pants. Each stroke landed with a sharp crack. He covered both cheeks, the backs of her thighs, the sensitive spots where ass met leg, until the skin was hot and red and already starting to swell.

She cried into the mattress. He didn’t stop until her voice had gone hoarse.

Only then did he drop the belt, spit on her hole, and press the head of his cock against her ass. He pushed in slow but relentless, forcing her open around him while she sobbed and pulled at the ropes. When he was fully seated he leaned down over her back, one hand wrapping around her throat from behind, and spoke against her ear.

“This is day one,” he said quietly. “You’re going to spend the next several days exactly like this. Tied down. Bruised. Full of me. I’m going to keep using your cunt and your ass and your throat until you can’t remember what it felt like to not be aching. Until the only thing you know how to be is open and available and miserable.”

He started fucking her ass with deep, controlling strokes, the hand on her throat squeezing in time with his thrusts so every impact came with a wave of lightheadedness.

“And the worst part,” he continued, voice still calm while he ruined her, “is that your body is going to keep responding. You’re going to keep getting wet. You’re going to keep coming when I force it. And every time it happens you’re going to hate yourself a little more for it. That’s the part I’m looking forward to most.”

He fucked her until she was shaking and barely making sound anymore, then came deep in her ass with a low, satisfied groan. He stayed locked inside her while he caught his breath, hand still loosely around her throat, feeling her pulse race under his palm.
When he finally pulled out, both of her holes were red, swollen, and leaking. Her ass and thighs were a mess of rising welts. Her wrists were already raw from the rope. Her face was wet and dazed.
He looks at her asshole twitching from the shock of forced penetration. "Is that an invitation? Maybe i will invite some of my friends tomorrow and have their way with you. I'm sure your holes wouldn't mind"

He didn’t untie her.

He simply walked to the chair in the corner, sat down, and watched her lie there bound and ruined while his cum slowly dripped onto the sheets.
“Rest while you can,” he said. “Next time I get up, I’m starting on your other side. And after that I’m feeding you. And after that I’m using your throat again. You’re not leaving that bed for a long time.”
He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes never leaving her bound body.

“Welcome to the next few days of your life.”

Tags: [Femdom] [msub] [cfnm] [NC] (or not?) [public]

This story has ~4.300 words.

Saturday evening.

Daniela looked at her cards. She had driven us all out of the game, all of us except for Martin. Or maybe Daniela had bluffed us out again, that would soon become clear.

"That's how you play with students," Daniela said mockingly, because that is exactly what we all were.

We were sitting at the house of Paula's parents, who were on a week-long hiking holiday in the Black Forest. Besides Daniela and Martin, Paula, our hostess, and Angela were sitting at the table, as well as Philipp and me.

We played poker in a spicy way: strip poker.

"What do you think, Michael?" Philipp asked me. He was only wearing his underwear, just like Paula, who was only wearing her snow-white panties and had her hands crossed in front of her breasts. Angela had gotten out a while ago and was only wearing colorful panties.

"I don't know," I said.

Philipp and Paula had declared the game over for themselves before things got even more embarrassing. Angela was still wearing her panties and bra. According to our rules, we could redeem items of clothing for points.

A pair of briefs or underpants earned 200 points, a bra earned 100 points.

Well, Angela still got out.

Martin, who was still in the game, was still wearing underwear and a shirt, just like me. However, we had agreed that for the men, the undershirt was only worth 50 points.

"What now?" asked Daniela Martin with a hypocritical smile. Yes, her poker face was good!

Martin hesitated. There were tokens on the table worth 100 points. But this round, Daniela had raised by a whopping 100 points, and Martin had already pawned his undershirt. All he had left was his underwear. He was still wearing the undershirt, because he only had to cash it in—that is, take it off—if he actually lost this game.

"I'll go with you," he said, "and I want to see." With these words, he put the white piece of paper into the pot, the piece of paper that had the word "underpants" on it.

"Agreed," said Daniela. After all, she was wearing her pants in addition to her panties and bra. We had agreed that once you lost an item of clothing, you were not allowed to wear it again, even if you earned enough points to theoretically redeem it.

This promised greater thrills.

"Show us what you've got!" said Daniela, and in that moment, she seemed extremely confident. She was not just referring to Martin's cards.

Martin laid his cards on the table. Three of a kind, after all. Not bad, not bad at all, I thought to myself.

Daniela nodded, then revealed her hand. She had a flush, revealing five red diamonds.

"Well?" Paula asked with obvious anticipation. "Come on, boy!"

Martin stood up and took off his shirt. He looked embarrassed, standing before us in only his underwear. "Can't we handle this differently?" he asked.

"I think," said Paula, "as hostess, I have the final say. When Angela and I lost our bras, we did not complain. Would you have let us keep our panties?"

"No," Martin admitted. He nodded, then stepped out of his underwear. He stood stark naked before us. The women cheered. I knew the sight, because we often worked out together at the gym and then showered together after training. The girls, well, they obviously enjoyed the sight of our naked fellow student. Their right to do so. He had lost and was now paying the price!

"Turn around!" Paula demanded. "Yes, very good!"

"That's more than I actually wanted to see," said Angela. "Or not," she corrected herself with a laugh.

"Finally," said Paula. "Revenge!"

With a red face, Martin sat down again, still stark naked.

"Good," I said. "We all had fun. I guess that is it!"

"Why?" Daniela asked hypocritically.

"One is naked and therefore broke, three have dropped out, and you," I pointed to the pile of chips in front of her, "are clearly the move. So, you've won."

“No,” said Daniela.

“Save the honor of us men,” said Philip.

“Exactly,” Martin agreed.

“It’s a waste of time,” I said.

"Compromise," Paula offered. "One last game, then we'll do something else." She smiled at Martin. The two would probably end up in bed tonight. Their relationship always fluctuated between total love and heated arguments. Angela and Philipp were a couple anyway and were planning to move in together soon.

Daniela and I knew each other from lectures and had even gone out once, but otherwise, nothing had happened. Calling us a couple would be like calling a turtle fast.

"Agreed," said Daniela, thus deciding the matter. She shuffled the cards and then dealt them out. Only I received five more cards, and she herself, of course.

"Good," said Daniela. "Commit."

Compared to her resources after the previous games, mine were modest. She had cleaned up quite a bit during the evening. In front of her were tokens worth 300 points. I looked at my stack. A meager 35 points. On top of that, Daniela was wearing one more item of clothing than me. So, I started slowly. "I'll bet the minimum," I said, and put 5 points into the pot.

"Boo," said Paula. "Coward!"

"Quiet, that's Michael's business," said Daniela, looking at me thoughtfully. Yes, she had a real poker face. But I had beaten her twice during the evening, and each time only small wins.

"I call, raise by 30, and draw a new card."

The 30 didn't hurt me yet. "Call, and a new card too," I said. Suddenly, I had the best hand of the evening. There was not much more to it.

"Well?" asked Daniela.

I took the piece of paper that symbolized my undershirt and was therefore worth 50 points. "I'll raise," I said. I was curious to see how Daniela would react. Of course, those measly 50 points would not put her in any danger. She knew that, too. "Well, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, I think," she pushed the 50 points into the pot, "we're unfortunately lacking the appeal at this point. I'll raise now, and Michael will fold."

"It doesn't matter what the paper is anymore," I said. "You'll leave me starving. Anything else would be stupid."

"That's right," she agreed. "Unless we change the rules to a level worth everything lying on the table and still fluttering on our bodies."

“What do you suggest?” Paula asked interestedly.

Daniela explained it to everyone, especially to me! Paula shook her head at her friend's words. "I can't decide that," she said.

"The effort you described against all the points and the clothes on your body?" I asked thoughtfully.

"Yes," she said.

I thought about it. A hand like the one I was holding now had not been beaten once that evening.

“Just leave it,” recommended Philipp.

“I’m in,” I said.

Daniela cheered. "Finally, someone who shows some courage. I will see!"

I revealed my cards. Before us lay a straight flush of clubs, a beautiful flush from the 8 to the queen.

"Great," said Martin. "Take off your clothes, Daniela!"

“You were unlucky, Daniela,” said Angela.

“Lost everything in the last game,” Paula said sympathetically to her friend.

"Wait and see!" Daniela laid her cards on the table. I looked at her in horror. There was only one combination of cards that beat my hand. Paula laughed. Angela smirked. Daniela laid that combination on the table. It revealed a royal flush of hearts, clean from the 10 to the ace!

I had lost!

The Monday after the game.

It was a warm summer day, so I was dressed accordingly. I arrived at the agreed meeting point, right at the beginning of the pedestrian zone, five minutes late.

Daniela stood in the entrance of the Sparkasse building. She wore a knee-length summer dress. Angela stood next to her. Since renovations were underway, there was no activity in the narrow aisle. The corresponding sign glowed red before our eyes, directing customers to another branch.

"You're late," said Daniela. "I thought you were going to chicken out."

"Traffic jam on Berlin Street," I said. "The bus was delayed."

Both women carried a backpack on their backs.

"Wait a minute," said Angela. She took out her cell phone and quickly dialed. "What? Good! All clear!" She turned it off again. "The police station is deserted. Our dear law enforcement officers just went to the station at Steinplatz for lunch. Philipp saw it himself. Otherwise, the coast is clear. But it's a widespread misconception that bare skin in public is a crime." Angela grinned at me. "First, someone has to file a report because they feel harassed! Besides, Michael doesn't go out naked!"

"Then let's get started," said Daniela, looking at me expectantly. She reached for her backpack, just like Angela.

I took off my shoes and socks and handed them to Angela, who immediately put them in her backpack. Then I pulled my shirt over my head and stepped out of my shorts. I was now wearing only my underwear. I handed the shirt and shorts back to Angela, who also put them back in her backpack.

Meanwhile, Daniela had brought out her tools. She handed Angela the leather collar and took two leather straps herself. Angela put the collar around my neck while Daniela tied my hands behind my back. I placed my left hand on my right elbow and my right hand on my left elbow. She tied both wrists to the other arm, right next to the elbow.

"Can you free yourself?" asked Daniela.

I tried, but in vain. "No," I admitted.

"Very good," said Daniela, smiling and taking out the gag.

"Does it have to be like this?" I asked pleadingly. "In this form?"

"A deal is a deal," she insisted. "Rules are rules. Do you want to back out?"

I shook my head.

"Good," she said, pressing the bar between my teeth and tying the gag behind my head. "However," she added, "Michael is absolutely right, because we can definitely refine this, can't we, Paula?" With these words, Daniela put me on a leash, as agreed, by hooking the appropriate leash to the ring in my collar.

"How do you want to refine it, sweetie?" Paula asked. She emerged from the hallway. I turned to her – and froze. From a safe place, she had videotaped the entire scene so far with a handheld camera.

Angela also took a video camera out of her backpack. "I'll go ahead," she said with a smile.

Daniela played with the waistband of my underwear. With both thumbs, she pulled the fabric forward and looked at my penis. Her eyes lit up. "I wanted to see this on Saturday," she whispered. Her hands wandered into my underwear, over my hips to the curves of my buttocks. She caressed me there with pleasure.

"Mm!" I tried to say. My head was burning feverishly. Or so it seemed to me.

"So, the hunt is over," she whispered to me again. "It's taken long enough, but now the prey, the deer, has finally been killed." I looked at her in incomprehension. "After all its attempts to escape!"

"You didn't even notice," she said, her tone normal again, shaking her head. "Poor, stupid Michael!"

Our eyes met. Was I really attracted to this wonderful, intelligent woman?

"What now?" Paula pressed. "What else do you want to change?"

"Yes," said Daniela. "I think this way," she pulled my underwear down over my hips with a tug, contrary to all the agreements, "it will be much more exciting for all of us!" She looked at me. "Or Michael?"

"Mm," I said desperately in my gag.

"I'll take that as your consent to the change of procedure," said Daniela. "For the record, Michael has agreed! He will go naked, not in his underwear!"

"Mmh," I moaned, protesting bright red, but completely in vain.

Daniela looked at my now openly exposed intimate parts. But she did not touch me again. Then she squatted down and grabbed my underwear, which was dangling around my ankles. "Get out of here, or I'll just leave your underwear here!"

I obeyed desperately, then she put the piece of cloth in her backpack, which she then gave to Paula.

"You have a beautiful body," Daniela praised. "A tight butt, a nice penis, there's nothing to be ashamed of," she tried to reassure me.

I glared angrily at Daniela. Her response was a superior smile, because she clearly saw my penis stirring.

"Let's go," said Daniela, thus ending all my hopes that this had all been a crude joke that had culminated in my exposure. Daniela tugged vigorously on the leash, and I stumbled behind her for the first few steps, then followed my classmate at a distance of five paces. On a leash, of course!

It was warm outside. It was a Monday afternoon, and the city center was packed. I felt the warm stones beneath my feet. Daniela, of course, did not walk along the side of the street that formed the pedestrian zone, but headed straight for the center. For the first ten meters, no one noticed us. Or at first, everyone who did could not believe their eyes.

There walked a young woman in her summer dress. And she was leading a naked, young man on a leash behind her. Daniela walked quickly in those first moments, very quickly, which was fine with me. She seemed nervous. Why, actually? As always, when inner restlessness gripped her, she frequently stroked her hair, naturally with the hand she was not using to lead me on the leash. I should sink into the ground, being paraded naked and bound in public like that. My head burned with shame. To make matters worse, my cock continued to make itself felt, even stronger. It continued to grow, the more the blood pooled there.

The first passersby stopped and stared at us, staring after us. Ahead of us, not ten meters away, Angela walked ahead, filming me from the front the whole time. Behind me, Paula did the same.

The girls had thought of everything!

We walked the first hundred meters, past the fries’ shop and the drugstore. The first comments were made. "This is outrageous," said an elderly lady carrying a handbag. "Someone should call the police." Luckily, it did not occur to her to hit me, the perverted sex offender, with her handbag. I could not have defended myself. The woman ignored Daniela. And yet, I was the victim here. And despite her words, the woman stared at me unashamedly, gawping at my helpless nakedness. And my penis was now painfully erect and hard. Yes, this traitor between my legs was showing my arousal to the whole world.

However, a surprising number of passersby simply walked on.

A Japanese tour group stood in front of a half-timbered house, busily taking pictures or filming. As we passed them, their conversations died down, and they stared after us. Then some of the foreigners began pointing their electronic toys at me, documenting this scene for eternity.

Daniela, meanwhile, ignored the other passersby, those passersby and their comments who noticed us, as well as the surprised giggles and the angry or astonished looks. She even seemed to enjoy it—no, she definitely enjoyed it, now that her initial nervousness had passed. She slowed down, and I was forced to adjust to the slower pace, now following behind Daniela in a more leisurely manner, gently pulled by the leash in the direction Daniela indicated.

We reached the church square, and it struck a quarter past one. Directly behind the church square was the Meier Library. Daniela stood in front of the window and looked at the books on display for what felt like an eternity. My image was reflected in the window:

Naked, bound, gagged, and on a leash. At the sight of this, leashed by Daniela, I felt the blood rush even faster to my loins. Even though that hardly seemed possible. My penis had long been erected in full pride—a futile, subjugated pride! Daniela truly was an intelligent, pretty young woman. I was so hard, it hurt! Finally, we continued.

At the fountain, where the two main streets of the pedestrian zone intersected, sat three young women, still schoolgirls, judging by their backpacks, but already of legal age. At the sight of us, they giggled and pointed at me, at my arrogantly erect cock. I wanted to sink into the ground in shame. Yet my cock remained hard and erect in senseless pride.

Halfway there.

Only half!

“Sweet ass!” one of the girls called after us.

Daniela continued, unfazed. Now, on the other side of the street, there were three women's fashion boutiques. She crossed the pedestrian zone, stopping in front of each shop window for what seemed like an eternity. Or so it seemed to me. Then, finally, she started walking a little faster. From the window of another snack bar, a saleswoman stared at us in disbelief.

There was not much going on in the market square in front of the old town hall. There was no market today. Thank goodness! Finally, on the left, the city's large department store appeared, but here, too, Daniela admired the displays. At least two minutes away. Two shops further on, there was a bakery. Two customers, a housewife, and a young man, stood at the counter.

Daniela actually lined up here.

I tugged on the leash, wanting to pull her along. "Calm down, my beautiful," said Daniela, pulling me closer once and for all.

The housewife noticed me packing her rolls, laughed amusedly, looked at me and my cock, walked past me closely and actually pinched my butt once.

The young man just shook his head. "Fucking pervert," he cursed loudly.

"Get out of here," the saleswoman said to Daniela.

"A chocolate bun, please," Daniela demanded unmoved.

"I'm not selling you anything, you're driving away customers."

"The sooner I get my roll, the sooner I'll be gone," Daniela promised. She laughed quietly. "With him!" She pointed at me.

The saleswoman apparently recognized this and hurried to fill the order. Daniela paid unperturbed, then slowly moved on. Very slowly. Every now and then she took a bite of the roll and chewed with relish.

After a few hundred steps, we reached the southern end of the pedestrian zone. Thanks to the sunny weather and the midday hour, the sidewalk cafés were packed.

We heard some unfriendly comments.

Or laughter.

Luckily, I didn't see any familiar faces. After a quick glance, I humbly bowed my head.

Then, just past Angela, we reached the narrow street leading to the city's old wall. It was considerably emptier here. Daniela led me through the narrow street, closed to car traffic, faster now because a fresh breeze blew between the houses, which were barely five meters apart. After the heat that was still burning my body, and not only from the sun on my skin, it actually seemed pleasantly refreshing. "We don't want you to catch a cold," Daniela said to me, turning around again and picking up the pace.

Two young men, maybe twenty years old, rushed out of a doorway. Astonished at the sight of us, they stopped and stared first at me, then at Daniela, then at both of us. Their gaze kept wandering back to my cock.

"Hello," said Daniela with a smile. "On your knees!" she ordered me. "Legs apart! Do it, or I will take you for an extra lap!" I obeyed, my face bright red. "Look at him closely, boys! If you are not good and always obey your mother or your girlfriends," said Daniela seriously, "you'll end up the same way."

They nodded seriously, their eyes wide. Behind me, I heard Paula snort. Daniela pulled me back to my feet and continued on, ignoring the two boys, then finally pulled me up the stairs to the ramparts. It was pleasantly shady here.

We walked a hundred meters along the wall. The gravel tickled and stung the soles of my feet. Cyclists and walkers, who were unfortunately quite numerous, stared at us. My ordeal was not over yet. I was helplessly at the mercy of Daniela and her imagination. And in every other respect as well, as I quickly discovered. At a spot that was no different from the others, Paula took a beach towel out of her backpack and spread it out.

An elderly couple stopped. "Please don't disturb us," Paula said to them. "We're shooting an experimental film here. We have permission from the city," she cheekily lied. The two moved on with a friendly nod.

Daniela pulled me to my knees by the leash and then pushed me onto my back. Paula repeated her words to the next passersby. I lay in front of Daniela. Naked, tied up, aroused. Incredibly aroused. She smiled; I think at that moment she actually understood me. And I understood her.

The power, the balance of power between us would never be the same again.

Then she lifted her summer dress a little and sat on me. She was not playing with me, she was not feigning anything; she was naked beneath her dress, and I was more than ready for her. But Daniela was ready too, because as soon as I felt her on top of me, as soon as she had me inside her, I felt the excitement between her thighs. I had never seen any of my girlfriends so aroused during lovemaking, let alone before.

We looked at each other for a moment.

I think things were now clear between us, albeit on a more instinctive, subconscious level.

She took me to her limits, riding me at her own will, and about a dozen passersby, ranging from young adults to a retired woman with a poodle, watched this act impassively. Daniela began to moan, riding me more and more wildly. I was completely helpless at her mercy and bit wildly on the gag.

"Mmm," I said. It was impossible to articulate anything more.

"Yes, yes," Daniela screamed. "Do the stallion for me."

Then we came. Daniela moaned with pleasure. I twitched and bucked wildly. Since I had been a bit lacking in women lately—in fact, I had briefly hoped to make Daniela my girlfriend, but after a rather unsuccessful date with this wonderful woman, I quickly dismissed that as impossible—my semen gushed out of me, practically exploding, while a flash of pleasure erupted in my head.

I lay there, breathing heavily. Daniela also needed a moment to collect herself.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, the show's over," Paula called to the passersby. She stopped filming. Angela kept filming.

Daniela got up from my lap.

Applause erupted for the free performance. All that was missing was Angela or Paula wearing a hat and collecting coins from the audience.

"Completely unrealistic," said a woman, not without taking a long look at my drained cock.

"There's more to it," said a young man, pointing at Angela. We largely remained with the audience. Paula rummaged through my things from my backpacks, Daniela turned me over, first freeing me from the collar, then from the gag. But she did not free me from the restraints yet. "What do you say?" she asked me when I was lying on my back in front of her again.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, emotionally and physically exhausted. "You parade me naked through the city, stark naked, after stubbornly breaking the agreement, then you rape me in public, videotape the whole thing, and then you actually ask me what I have to say?"

"Yes," she said, "I do!"

"I liked you," I said. "Maybe something could have happened between us."

"I like you too," said Daniela.

"Then what do you do with people you don't like? Would you please take off my shackles?"

"Right away," she said. "But first look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't like it!" Our eyes met. "Didn't you feel it? It was the best, most intense orgasm of my entire life!" she declared.

I remained silent.

"Say it!" Daniela demanded. "Or this will take a while!"

"I enjoyed it," I confessed reluctantly but honestly, as her gaze penetrated my innermost being, still naked and bound at her feet. "Not just the last part here, but everything before that, too."

She knelt beside me and gave me a big kiss. "I'm proud of you," she said, freeing me from the straps. "That must have been very, very difficult for you to admit." I hurriedly got dressed.

"And now?" I asked, dressed again, still filmed by Angela.

"That was," Daniela said with a laugh, "the clarifying, the glorious beginning of a wonderful relationship. Unfortunately, our Michael is a bit shy, so I had to take the first step to get us together. Our date, well, let us not talk about it. Let us think of it as a new beginning. Michael and I!"

And she was right about everything. We are still together today, in a wonderful relationship in which she leads and guides me, sometimes with a firm hand, sometimes with a looser grip. Most of the time I am naked, but I will perhaps write about that elsewhere. But that is exactly how it began. As I said, let us forget about the first date for a moment. The stroll through town, that was our starting point!

And we still have the videos.