Sex Slave on Display

This entry is part 8 of 14 in the series 2013 Feb

I’m sorry you had to see that,” Tommy said soberly to our guests. “But I always find it’s best to punish Joanie at the moment of her transgression. The message really sinks in that way.”

I was bent over my husband’s lap with my ass exposed. My fancy turquoise sequined dress, which I’d spent hours agonizing over before the party, was pushed to my waist. My silky champagne-colored drawers dangled around my ankles. And my naked bottom was bright red. This last part I could only imagine, as I could not see what my behind looked like from my current position. But this wasn’t the first time Tommy had given me a bare-ass spanking, so I had a pretty good idea.

After one final, stinging swat, Tommy pulled me up so that I was standing at his side. I did not look at our four guests. When Tommy had originally told me he was planning this dinner party, I’d never thought that the outcome would be me willingly receiving a spanking in front of his four friends. How naïve I’d been. Like a girl getting ready for a fancy prom, I’d spent all day at the salon having my hair and nails done. I’d wanted to make a good impression for Tommy. Instead, I ended up with a bottom so hot you could sizzle bacon on it.
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Slutty & Satisfied

Seth’s domination of me began in our fifth year of marriage during a friendly debate over something trivial. At a sudden loss for words, he grabbed me and put me over his knee, calling me a bad girl and yanking down my panties to deliver a playful and unexpected spanking. I don’t think either of us expected my reaction: Within seconds I was straddling his lap, bouncing up and down on his hard cock. After this incident, every subsequent sexual encounter became much more kinky within weeks we were buying whips and handcuffs, happily exploring a side of ourselves that we hadn’t dared imagine when we first began dating.

Six months later, Seth made full partner at the firm, and I stopped having to work. I used the time to further my education and pamper my beloved husband. In front of other people, I was his equal in every respect, as always, but when we were by ourselves, I became his eager and willing slave.

Seth and I would often play secret games. He might forbid me to wear panties or a bra during a routine shopping excursion, or have me go down on him in the car. It started out as fun, but within a surprisingly short time, both of us seemed addicted to having me surrendering to his will. I found myself purposely making dinner late or leaving the house just a bit messy, simply to give Seth an excuse to “punish” me.

It was always after I’d pretended to be bad that we had the most delectable fun. Seth might toy with my pussy for hours without letting me come, or put me on my knees, hands cuffed behind my back, and order me to suck his cock. One time, he blindfolded me, stripped me down to my garter belt and bra, and paddled my backside with the back of a hairbrush. I loved it! After every discipline session I was insatiable, and we’d end up fucking well into the morning hours.

Before long, Seth and I each began to push the envelope of my submission in exciting new ways, and he’d frequently thrill me with surprising scenarios. But the latest was the most daring one yet.

“I’ll be a little late tonight,” said Seth before he left for work. “Be naked when I get home.”

A shiver crept up my spine. I knew by the tone in Seth’s voice that he was planning something special.

“You must listen to my instructions tonight, and do everything you’re told,” he said, heading toward the closet. I felt a rush of warmth between my legs, and I tried to keep my breathing normal as he put on his coat and gave me a casual kiss good bye. But all day long, I was thinking about what wicked surprise he’d have for me at the end of the day.

I prepared dinner that night, choosing a dish that could be ready at a moment’s notice, and before he arrived home, I took off all my clothes, as was expected of me. I heard Seth enter the house while I was in the kitchen, and I went to greet him. But I froze in my tracks as the door opened and I heard another man’s voice along with my husband’s. Seth had brought someone home with him, another man and I was naked!

I knew immediately that Seth had planned this on purpose, wanting to see how absolute my obedience was. And while I was somewhat nervous, I’ll also admit that I was incredibly turned on by the idea of a stranger seeing me naked and submitting to my husband. I entered the living room and stood there nude before my husband and a tall, muscular young man with short dark hair.

“This is Julian,” said Seth, introducing him with deliberate calm. “He works for an investment firm in the office next door to mine. I know it’s short notice, but I invited him for dinner.” Seth kept his eyes on me, clearly wondering what I would do.

My skin tingled with excitement as I stepped toward our guest, holding out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Julian,” I said with the same composure Seth had displayed, as if I weren’t stark naked in front of a complete stranger. I could tell by Julian’s relaxed demeanor that Seth had told him to expect me in this state, but the wideness of his eyes betrayed that my husband hadn’t mentioned my measurements. My figure attracts a good amount of attention when I’m in a bikini at the beach. With nothing on at all I was quite an eyeful, and I could tell that Julian liked what he saw.

I prepared drinks for the men while dinner heated, and then they sat down at the table. “Doesn’t she have lovely breasts?” Seth asked Julian, cupping them as I filled my husband’s plate. “Feel how soft and supple they are.”

I tried to keep my jaw from dropping as Seth invited Julian to feel my breasts, but I willingly turned toward our guest. Julian gave one breast a tentative caress, fingering the nipple as I fought back a moan. Since I seemed to be enjoying his touch, he gathered both breasts in his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. They’re gorgeous,” he agreed.

Dinner conversation was quite normal, with both men acting as though there was nothing unusual about a naked woman serving them. After dinner, we moved into the living room. I asked Seth if he’d like me to bring coffee. “In a minute,” he said. “Right now I want you to go get your special panties.”

My “special panties” were a medium size dildo and tiny butt plug attached to a thin leather G string that fastened around my waist, much like a garter belt they turned a simple walk across the room into an orgasmic experience for me. I felt a frisson of excitement as I realized that Seth wanted me to wear my special panties in front of our guest. I went and fetched them right away.

Seth made a big display out of putting the kinky garment on me. Kneeling, he spread the lips of my pussy with his fingers and probed my hole with the tip of his tongue until it was nice and slippery with my juices and his saliva. Then he rubbed my entrance with the head of the dildo and slipped it into me. I looked over at Julian and gasped softly as the rubber cock filled my pussy.

Then Seth turned me around. The thin strip of G string was now hanging from the front of my pussy, with the little butt plug dangling less than an inch below. Seth spread the cheeks of my backside and flicked his wet tongue over my asshole, and then he slipped the little butt plug in and attached the end of the G string to the back of waistband. Both of my holes were packed full, and I teetered on the verge of orgasm as I stood upright.

“Now go and get the coffee, please.”

I tried to keep my expression casual as I walked into the kitchen, but with every step I took, the two rubber phalluses would press and rub against each other through the thin membrane in between, producing ripples of delight. By the time I came out with the coffee, I was wild with lust.

“Now walk around the room,” Seth instructed.

I was trembling. Part of my submission to Seth forbade me from coming without his express authority I was to depend solely upon him for my satisfaction. But parading me around naked in front of a stranger while my pussy and ass were plugged was a completely arousing thing to do it fed into my submissive tendencies, and I knew it would be hard for me to control myself.

“Go ahead,” said Seth, patient but firm. “Walk around the room for us. ”

It took intense concentration to keep my knees from shaking. Walking around in this particular garment made me feel more naked than I’ve ever felt in my life and also made me incredibly aware of my body and how aroused I was becoming. From Seth’s smug smile, he must have guessed this to be the case a fact that only made me love him more.

The men kept their conversation light, as if I wasn’t moving around the room, naked with toys shoved in both of my holes. I politely asked if they would like dessert with their coffee. “Not just yet,” Seth replied. “I think we’d rather have some entertainment. Come here, please.”

I was hot all over. If I moved too quickly, I would come. I kept my gaze down and took slow, careful steps until I stood before Seth. He unbuckled the garter belt and slowly withdrew the two probes from my body as I gasped. My cunt was dripping wet, and he snickered. “You’re too excited now and need to take care of that. Go sit on that easy chair and make yourself come.”

This would be the ultimate submission to Seth’s will it had taken many months before I was comfortable masturbating in front of him. I felt very shy about doing it in front of Julian, and yet I found the idea sinfully pleasing and I badly needed to climax. I sat down in the chair and spread my legs. “Don’t look down,” Seth insisted. “Look at us. You’re doing this for our amusement, not yours. Make yourself come for us.”

I put my hand between my legs and began to massage my pussy, keeping eye contact with both men. I placed a fingertip on each side of my clit and worked it in a slow, steady rhythm, snaking a finger from my other hand in and out of my pussy. Doing something so personal for their entertainment was so subservient an act that I found myself crying out in orgasm in no time.

I had barely caught my breath when Seth said, “Julian seems quite taken with you. I’d like you to sit in his lap and let him caress your beautiful body.”

I had expected my climax to be the end of the game, but Seth wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t deny the intense arousal that fact created in me.

Julian sat next to Seth on the sofa. I could feel my face flushing with heat as I walked in front of him, turning to sit down in his lap. Julian put his hands on my shoulders, sending chills down my spine. With the lightest contact, he slid his hands slowly down to my wrists before placing them on each side of my waist. I reminded myself that I was Seth’s property I belonged to him, and he could do with me as he pleased and what he wanted right now was to show me off to his friend.

Julian’s hands slid up my back between my shoulder blades, lingering at my neck before dropping to my breasts. Again his touch caused a sharp intake of breath, one that my husband noticed. Julian’s hands paused at my belly, not daring to move lower. He then moved them to my hips, which only served to turn me on even more. “Go ahead,” Seth invited him. “Check out how wet she is now. Your finger should slide right in. I bet you can make her come in no time.”

I could feel Julian’s hard on through his pants, and I spread my legs slightly to give him access to my sex. He took his time probing my slippery hole as I tried not to voice the rapture it gave me. “God, she’s tight,” he told Seth. “I can barely get a second finger in!”

I found it shocking that Seth would allow another man to do something so personal with me, but questioning his authority never entered my mind. Besides, I was enjoying myself Julian’s fingers were absolute magic, and in just over a minute I was squeezing his hand between my thighs, moaning as my orgasm gripped me.

Once I’d caught my breath, Seth had me fetch our thin rubber dildo. I stood in front of him, parting my cheeks with my hands and gasping as he licked my asshole. When my hips began rocking, he stopped licking me and slid the dildo into my back hole, fucking my ass with it while he fingered my clit. When he had me on the verge of coming again, he removed the dildo and had me lay back on the dining room table with my legs spread, to once again masturbate for his and Julian’s enjoyment. This time they stood right over me, looking down at me as I buried my finger deep in my pussy. I drove myself to a furious orgasm as the boys clapped in appreciation.

Julian returned to his seat on the couch, seeming to be very turned on by all he’d seen.

“Look at what you’ve done!” said Seth, pointing to the bulge in our guest’s pants. “It would be very rude to leave him like that. Come, sit on the floor and suck his cock.”

Seth’s remark startled me, conjuring up sexy images in my head of me sucking off Julian. The fantasy was distracting and delayed my reaction. Seth waited a few seconds for me to respond, and then got up and walked into the adjoining room. Julian and I exchanged looks, and then we heard a drawer open and close. Julian still looked puzzled, but I knew what that sound meant. My face flushed hotly as Seth reappeared, holding a small cat o’ nine tails.

“On your knees, with that pretty behind of yours facing us,” he said softly.

My breath was coming faster as I knelt and leaned forward, presenting my backside to Seth. He gave me three lashes across the buttocks, bringing a gasp from me each time. Having Seth punish me in front of someone else was lusciously embarrassing, and my pussy was dripping with arousal.

“Must I repeat myself?” he asked.

“No, sir.” I was so horny now that I would do whatever he wanted, but what I wanted most was to suck Julian’s dick. I went over, got down on my knees between Julian’s legs, and opened his pants. His cock was long and straight, with a thick, bulbous head. I held it at the base and licked the end, pumping his shaft a few times before closing my mouth over the head. Julian moaned as I sucked his cock, drawing it in and out of my mouth as my fingertips ran lightly along its underside. I held it by the root and slapped the head against my tongue.

Seth squatted down behind me and spanked my backside with his hand. “That’s it. Service his cock like a good girl.”

“Yes, sir,” I uttered before engulfing the head of Julian’s cock again. I began moving my lips up and down the shaft, going slightly lower each time until I was taking more than half its length in my mouth. I was getting into this now I wasn’t Seth’s wife at this moment, but his sexual servant.

“Is this all right, sir?” I asked, taking Julian’s cock between my breasts and squeezing them against it. I moved up and down, sticking out my tongue to catch the end of his prick as it poked out of the little tunnel I’d made. “Do you like this?”

“I think he does,” said Seth.

Julian was thrusting his hips off the sofa, pushing his cock back and forth between my tits. I gave him a few strokes, and then let his cock push right back between my waiting lips. He gasped and closed his eyes as I licked and sucked at his cockhead. I knew he was getting close to coming. His penis sprang back and forth at the root when I let go of it, and I giggled as I took it back between my breasts.

Julian’s breath came hot and heavy now. He was very close, and I let him fuck my tits at will. Suddenly, he was grunting and shooting hot come all over my breasts.

“You should clean that up,” said Seth. I smiled and licked up all the come from Julian’s cock and balls, and then used my fingertips to scoop up his load from my breasts. I was about to stand when Seth told me to get on my hands and knees, and then he moved behind me.

It felt completely servile to have Seth take his pleasure with me in front of a guest, but that’s what made it so exciting. I could see Julian watching us from the corner of my eye, and that made it even better. I had needed a good hard fucking after what I’d just done, and it felt delicious to let Julian see me like this, so submissive to my husband’s will.

There was no lovemaking involved Seth fucked me as though I were merely a vessel for his lust, and I found it powerfully stimulating, especially under the gaze of a casual acquaintance. It felt both submissive and liberating at the same time. I was not in control, and as a result I could enjoy whatever Seth decided to do with me.

Seth was nearing orgasm. His breathing was deep, and I could feel his cock swelling inside me. A few more stabs into my pussy, and he was on the verge of popping. “Up, up on your knees,” he commanded. I turned on my knees to face his bursting cock, opening my mouth so that he could fire right into it. “Ahh!” he cried, stroking his shaft and filling my mouth with his creamy come. I swallowed every shot that he gave me.

Julian was sitting on the couch, stroking his rejuvenated erection as we turned to him. “You’ve gotten our guest excited again,” Seth said. “Better go spread your legs for him before he loses control of himself all over our couch.”

I must have looked surprised. “Go and take care of our guest,” he snapped, slapping my backside hard. I had to stifle a moan.

I was already very excited I had been just approaching orgasm when Seth had climaxed, and taking his load in my mouth had really stoked my coals. Julian had a nice cock, and while I’d had it in my mouth, I hadn’t been able to stop wondering what it would feel like inside me. The overwhelming factor, though, was that it would prove to Seth that I would do anything he told me to do, which excited me like nothing else. I can’t explain my desires. I just know that they’re there, and by answering their call, I’m ultimately satisfied.

I followed Seth’s instructions to the letter. I walked over, lay down on the floor in front of him, and spread my legs for Julian. “My husband would like you to take whatever you want,” I said, looking at Seth.

Julian didn’t have to be asked twice. He knelt on the floor in front of me and slid his big dick into my wet pussy, which was still swollen from the hard fucking Seth had given me. My nipples were as stiff as erasers, and he fondled my breasts as he moved his cock in and out of me. I looked up at Seth, who whispered, “Go ahead, baby. Come all over his cock.” That was it I came hard and fast, unable to stifle my cries.

Afterward, Seth still had me serve them dessert, with come dripping down the inside of my leg. I felt wonderfully slutty and satisfied.

After out guest left for the night, Seth pulled me into the bedroom. “You were a good girl tonight,” he said, playfully swatting my bare backside. “But now I want you to be bad!”

Seth and I made love all night with both of us looking forward to our next kink filled adventure.

HER INTUITIVE BOYFRIEND SENSES HER KINKY CRAVINGS AND FULFILLS HER FANTASIES

Joe and I had only been together a year or so when he realized my secret desire. It was one of those things that happened entirely by accident. We were getting ready to go out to celebrate two things a nice promotion for him and a passed nursing school test for me. Somehow in the flurry of excitement I got clumsy and dropped a pot of powder makeup all over him, or more specifically, his white shirt.

There was a flash of something on his handsome face then, a very quick shift from normal, good natured Joe to stern Joe. I quickly stammered an apology, my fingers plucking at his shirt. I tried to fix what I had done, but he grabbed my hands in his much bigger and stronger one.

“Go stand over there.” He pointed. His voice was so soft that it made my skin prickle.

I went and stood by my closet as he took off his very expensive, now ruined shirt. My heart pounded so hard, but between my legs I was wet and desperate. Something in his face, his tone, had set me on edge and turned me on. I’d always wanted to be put in my place by my man, but now it felt like an impulse I couldn’t ignore.

The thing was, I hoped and feared he knew it that he could read my thoughts.

When we were finally face to face, he began to undo the small white buttons on my blouse one by one. I watched him warily, but the thrill inside of me was undeniable.

“What should a good girl say when she does something that bad?”

His tone was conversational, which made the whole thing more surreal. “I’m sorry,” I blurted.

“Do you think you were bad?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Tell me you want it.”

I blinked at him, feeling confused, but my pussy was so, so wet that I felt like I had to move or I’d die. I shifted on my feet, rubbing my thighs together, only making it worse. Only feeling more needy.

“Want what?” I finally asked, feeling crafty and clever.

“To make it up to me,” Joe grinned. He pinched my nipple through my blouse, and I moaned with the pressure and the painful goodness of it.

“I want to make it up to you,” I parroted like a good girl.

He smiled at me again and very slowly pinched the other nipple. “I think you’ve been wanting something like this for quite some time, but were afraid to show me. Am I right?”

I said nothing. I bit my lip and tried to still my body. It was an almost impossible feat because my pulse was thundering between my legs. I was hot and cold all at once and simply needed him to help me feel better.

“Tell me.” He firmly pushed me to my knees, and I went willingly.

Joe rummaged around behind me, and I tried to see what he was doing but he snapped, “Eyes ahead,” and then reemerged with my longest, most festive scarf. “Now tell me or I leave, and we’ll have our date night another time.”

Tell him what? But then I remembered. I had wanted this for a long time, and if I didn’t come clean, I’d never get what I craved.

“Yes,” I said by way of an answer.

He tsked at me and began to thread the scarf through the one of the organizing shelves in my walk in closet. “Yes, what? You can do better than that.”

“Yes, I want . . . ” I took a deep breath like I was about to dive. “It. I want you to . . . I want to make it up to you,” I stammered helplessly.

He nodded once and pushed his hands in my long brown hair. When he yanked, it was just enough to make me gasp, just enough to make the throbbing beat of my cunt agonizing. He let me go and then used the loose ends of my scarf to bind my arms up over my head. High enough that I had no play and could not use them. But low enough that I wasn’t in pain.

And then he hauled out his cock, handling it in the way he knew made me crazy. I watched him, mesmerized, wondering wildly how I had gotten on my knees in the doorway of my closet bound to my shelving unit. It was almost funny and yet it wasn’t.

Joe pushed the tip of his hard cock to my lower lip. He pressed it hard enough so that I heard my mouth pop open, and the urge to dart my tongue out and lick him was too much. So I gave in. I had always prided myself on giving good head, on sucking him off so that he was hugely satisfied. But he yanked my hair once, sharply, and said, “You’re not giving. I’m taking.”

So I simply sat there and forced myself still. I let him trace my lips, a bit rougher than usual, with the head of his dick. I parted for him when he pressed himself forward, and I remained, stoically, an orifice for him to fuck as he drove into me.

It made me mindless, surrendering like that: Being a receptacle for pleasure, with his hand almost painful in my hair as he fucked my mouth. His big dark eyes staying pinned to my face as I opened wide for him and took every thrust he had.

He yanked again and I gasped, my eyes watering, my pussy so plump it felt full to the point of discomfort. “You may touch yourself. But only because I said so.”

He pulled back from me long enough for me to mutter a grateful thank you and for him to undo one of my hands. The wrong hand. I was right handed, and he had freed my left. So though I was allowed to touch myself, it would be much more difficult to get off by using my non dominant hand.

I didn’t care, because I was getting such a rush from being at his mercy.

Joe forced his cock to my lips again and all of me felt electric. The way he moved, the way he grunted, the look in his eyes all said he was barely hanging on. I was dripping wet and slick when I touched myself, my shaking fingers making sloppy circles on my clit. It didn’t matter because I was so far gone. With one arm still bound above me and my hair wrapped in his tight fist, it didn’t take much for me to come.

I assumed that I was allowed. I prayed I was allowed, because when he thrust particularly deep and tugged on my hair, I came.

When I climaxed, he made a noise and pulled out of me. My single bound arm was alive with pins and needles, as he maneuvered himself behind me.

I pushed my face into a tall pile of neatly folded jeans and sweaters as he kneed my legs apart the way he wanted and slammed into me. His cock filled me and stretched me, and he fucked me hard enough to inch me forward.

Joe gripped my hips tightly and grunted, “Next time I won’t be so nice.”

And then I came again. He followed suit just a moment later.

It wasn’t the last time I deserved a good “punishment,” and it wasn’t the last time I had to beg to be put in my place. But it had been the very first time. And because of that, I’ll never forget the night Joe gave me what I secretly needed.

Ms. Maggie M., Austin, Texas

SLAVE GIRL LIVES THE DREAM, WITH HELP FROM HER MASTER AND A DOMINANT FRIEND

Tommy and I have always been able to express our deepest and most intimate thoughts to each other. One day, I shared a dream with him that seemed bizarre to me, but to him, it was intriguing and revealed my darkest sexual desires.

In my dream, I was in a dark cave that was far from civilization. Several women, including myself, were lined up and facing a wall, with our hands bound above our heads. We were allowed to view our surroundings only for a short time before all our clothing was ripped from our bodies. We were then quickly blindfolded with scraps of cloth that had been cut from our torn clothes. Naked, we waited there, pondering our fate and growing more and more excited with each passing second. The men who had captured us were teasing us with leather straps, uttering dirty whispers and threatening to strike us, but before the whipping began, I awoke. I have to admit that I was sexually aroused by the dream, as much as I was confused by it.

I relayed my dream and my reaction to Tommy, who looked thoughtful as he considered it.

“Amanda,” he said finally, “that’s a dirty little fantasy screaming to be fulfilled.”

Being the na ve girl I am, I blushed with embarrassment. Tommy didn’t see my dream as innocent at all. He saw it as a sign that I wanted to be sexually dominated by men. Secretly, I knew he was right. The more I thought about submitting to a man, the more aroused I became. I realized that I wanted Tommy to take control of me, and maybe even share me with another man. I let Tommy know that his hunch about my submissive nature was correct. He smiled wickedly, which thrilled me as much as it made me nervous.

Two weeks after my sexual confession, I was whisked off for a weekend getaway. I didn’t know what I was in for, but enough hints had been sent my way to keep me wet between my legs.

Tommy had found an exquisite hotel. As I entered the room, thoughts of what might happen there weakened my knees. It was a suite like I had never seen. The door that separated the bedroom from the living room was massive and extremely heavy. I’ve never seen a door that big in a hotel room. It was like a dungeon door with bars instead of handles.

Before I got too comfortable in my new surroundings, I was ordered to go into the bedroom, where some clothes were laid out on the bed for me. I thought to myself, What a great planner! He’s thought of everything.

“Amanda, once you’ve changed into the things I’ve left for you, I want you to put this on,” Tommy explained, handing me a leather blindfold, “and then wait for me to come and get you.”

“Yes, Master,” I muttered softly, attempting to get into the role of a submissive.

“You must keep the blindfold on the entire evening, until I remove it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” I repeated with a slight grin, gripping the blindfold tightly in my fist. I was unable to hide my excitement. Tommy then left our suite to where, I had no idea.

I looked at the sexy clothing that had been laid out for me. Simply seeing it made my pussy throb with excitement. I stripped and put on the open cup leather bra that left my nipples exposed. I then slipped into thigh high, lace topped black stockings and attached them to the garter belt that I’d fastened around my hips. I stepped into the black stilettos, and then wriggled into a black leather miniskirt that barely covered my ass. Also on the bed were a leather collar and a pair of leather wrist cuffs with metal rings attached, so I buckled the cuffs around my wrists, and then fastened the collar around my neck. It felt tight, and I was made aware of its presence every time I swallowed. Fully attired in my sensual clothing, I slipped the blindfold over my eyes and waited. It felt like I was sitting there for an excruciatingly long time, although I know that it couldn’t have been very long at all.

Finally, the wait was over. Tommy entered the room and asked, “Are you ready, Amanda?”

Was I ready? Oh, my God! My pussy was already dripping, and we hadn’t even begun. “Yes, Master,” I answered in a quavering voice.

My lover took me by the hand, leading me carefully because I was blindfolded. He brought me into the living room area.

“Amanda, this is Salvatore. He’s going to help us make your dream come true.” I was quiet and didn’t respond. “Say ‘hello,’ slut,” Tommy said teasingly, playfully tweaking my nipple.

I gasped and quickly said hello to our guest. I heard Tommy chuckle.

I was led to the center of the room and tossed onto what I believe was one of the giant ottomans I’d seen when we’d first entered the suite. Tommy ordered me to get on my hands and knees and to stick my ass up in the air.

My heart began to pound when I heard Tommy tell Salvatore that I was his to whip and punish. The skirt I was wearing was pulled up around my waist, exposing my ass. At first, Salvatore teased me with a whip, striking me softly. Even though he was gentle, the leather did sting, but it also made my pussy drip. He paused in between whipping me and ran his hand over my ass and over my cunt multiple times. His touches made me shiver with excitement. At one point, his fingers even slid inside my wet pussy. I groaned with abandon I felt so sexy and slutty, letting another man use me this way in front of my boyfriend. Hearing my excited response, Salvatore started finger fucking me in earnest. He marveled out loud at how slippery and smooth I felt, and then removed his fingers from my pussy and slid them into my mouth. I moaned as I tasted myself on his fingers.

Tommy soon demanded that Salvatore resume whipping me. He obeyed Tommy, but this time he wasn’t as forgiving. The leather cracked against my flesh, taking my breath away and making me whimper, even as it stoked my lust.

“Are you ready to get fucked?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Are you ready for another man to fuck you?”

I hesitated because I wanted to shout “yes!” but I wasn’t sure how my boyfriend would have felt about such exuberance. Tommy came close to me and stroked my cheek as he brought his mouth close to my face. “For me,” he whispered, and then I knew he wanted this as much as I did.

“Yes, Master,” I said, feeling incredibly excited at the thought of being fucked by another man while Tommy watched us in action.

With my ass so hot and no doubt striped red, Salvatore thrust his enormous cock into my waiting pussy. He fucked me harder and deeper than I’ve ever experienced before. I could barely accommodate his huge member, but I bucked back toward him, wanting more and more. He pumped my pussy, slowly at first, and then increasing the speed of his hips as my cunt stretched to accommodate his girth. After giving it to me good for a few minutes, he pulled out and brought his slippery cock to my lips for me to suck and lick off my pussy juices. He grabbed my hair and slipped his cock in and out of my mouth. I nearly gagged on his big dick, but having him take command of me in this way turned me on.

As Salvatore fucked my face, Tommy moved behind me, thrusting his fingers in and out of my slippery pussy. I could feel my climax beginning to build, and I whimpered around Salvatore’s rod. Tommy knew the way I acted right on the cusp of climax, and knowing I was close, he worked my clit the way I like best. I came like a fiend, bucking and straining, but I didn’t stop sucking Salvatore. Tommy backed off for a moment, and then resumed stroking my pussy. I couldn’t believe how he was making me feel. I knew I was going to come again, and quickly, and Tommy made it happen with his magic fingers.

After my second climax, I was helped up and given a rest. Tommy stroked my hair and held a glass to my lips so I could have a drink of water. Once they felt I was ready for more, I was brought into the bedroom. They made me face what I guessed was the bedroom door and bound my cuffed wrists over my head. That’s when the whipping began again. I don’t know who was hitting me or what they were doing it with, but it sounded like some sort of leather belt. Each time the strip connected with my ass, I felt a burst of pain and panic, but that quickly faded and morphed into a buzzing arousal that spread through my pussy, leaving it hot and wet.

I was breathless and moaning when Salvatore grabbed me by the hips and whispered in my ear that he was going to fuck me again that he couldn’t resist me. He pushed his cock in and out of my cunt, making me cry out in pleasure. While I was being fucked, Tommy pinched my nipples. The fucking continued until Salvatore had to back off, saying his cock was going to blow.

I was unbound and positioned across someone’s lap. At this point, I didn’t know who was who. One of the men slid his fingers inside me and made me come. He didn’t stop at one climax or even two. He kept me moaning for a very long time. Then the spanking finally began. He struck me numerous times with his open palm and had me gasping for air. When he stopped, I was moved onto the floor and told to suck his cock. That’s when I guessed it was Salvatore. I knew what Tommy’s cock felt like in my mouth, and the contours of this one were slightly different. As I blew Salvatore, Tommy took advantage of my position, whipping my exposed ass. I groaned and whimpered around the thick dick in my mouth, letting Salvatore fuck my face until he came in my mouth. I swallowed his load and then collapsed on the floor.

But Tommy wasn’t done with me yet he wanted his turn. He picked me up and put me on the bed, positioning me on my hands and knees. He jammed his cock into me from behind as Salvatore positioned himself in front of me. Tommy ordered me to suck Salvatore’s dick again. I parted my lips, and a hard cock was slipped between them. The feeling I had was too overwhelming to explain in words. I could barely breathe from the size of the member in my mouth coupled with the rock hard cock in my pussy urging me toward multiple orgasms. I came countless times but still wanted more.

My masters kept fucking my mouth and pussy until they both came with loud groans. They were finally spent and so was I. Salvatore bid us good night, and then Tommy kissed me tenderly and took off the cuffs and blindfold before tucking me into bed.

I thanked him for a satisfying night, and then I drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace.

Ms. Amanda L., Tulsa, Oklahoma

Seven Year Kink

Daniel and I have been together for nearly seven years. “That’s when the itch kicks in,” my friend Susannah warned me.

“The itch?”

“You know, the seven year itch.”

“I’m not worried at all about the heat in our relationship.” I blushed as I said the words.

“Why not?” she asked, eyebrows arched, “What makes you two so special?”

I couldn’t hold my tongue. “Not after what we did last night.”

“Last night?”

I didn’t know if I ought to tell her the whole story, so I just said, “Danny and I have regular date nights.”

That sounded simple, and fairly G rated. What Susannah didn’t know wouldn’t keep her up at night thinking about Dan and me in a filthy, little bondage scenario. See, in order to make time for each other in our busy schedules, Daniel and I like to plan date nights for one another. We try to keep the locations secret holding the surprise until the very last moment. Up until this week, we have always visited some new froufrou restaurant recommended in The New York Times, one of those five star nightspots that can take weeks of calling to land a reservation. Often, we’ve left each other clues. When it’s my turn, I sometimes slip portions of reviews for the restaurant into Dan’s suit coat. Once, when I was taking him to a lobster dinner, I put the B52′s into his CD player, cueing the disc to “Rock Lobster.”

But this week, all that changed.

This week was Daniel’s turn, and I started to get the feeling that this was going to be one of our more unusual nights right when the alarm went off on Monday. Dan had already left for work by the time I woke up. But I saw that he’d left me a pair of luxurious black leather boots. They were taller than any boots I’d ever owned and were positioned by the bed with a bright satin red ribbon wrapped around them. With my nightgown still on, I zipped up the thigh high boots and walked around the bedroom, dazzled at how the leather fit, how the boots seemed made for my long, lean legs.

I wanted to call Dan up right then to thank him. But for some reason, I didn’t say a word about the gift when we spoke on the phone later that day, and he didn’t say anything to me. My feeling was that if Daniel wanted to talk about the footwear, he’d be the one to bring up the topic.

The next morning, I spied a new pair of thigh high stockings in my lingerie drawer. I was starting to become not only curious but aroused. I couldn’t help but touch myself while wearing the shimmering stockings, although I did not tell Daniel I’d already given the stockings a trial run.

On Wednesday, I found a leather necklace with a dainty silver buckle in my jewelry box. I say necklace, but I really mean collar. I have to confess that my hands were shaking when I tried on the piece. The buckle felt deliciously cool on my skin, while in moments the leather felt satisfyingly warm. I began to create a mental image of how Daniel wanted me to look. The word “bondage” flitted through my mind. No, we hadn’t delved into this sort of sexual sport before, but I knew from the type of porn movies we’ve watched together that Daniel has always been curious.

Then on Thursday, I discovered the nipple clamps. Dan and I had never played with items like these, although I had made a comment once, when we’d flipped through a sexy magazine together, about how pretty I thought the girl looked while wearing them. I guess Dan had taken that comment to heart or in this case, to tits. I pulled off my blouse and bra and put the clamps on immediately. I couldn’t wait. As I tightened the device, twisting the little knobs, I felt as if my pussy was directly connected to the clamps. The tighter I turned the little screws, the wetter I became. With the clamps in place, I felt only half dressed. I added the necklace, then the stockings, and finally the boots. I felt odd wearing my skirt and panties, so I took those off.

I knew Daniel wouldn’t be home for at least a half hour. His commute is twice as long as mine is. Moving as if on autopilot, I reached for my trusty vibrator and worked the tool up and over the shaved mound of my pussy. The whole time, I kept staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’d never looked like this before and I’d never felt like this. I’d been in heat for nearly four days, and even though I wanted to make the climax last, I have to admit, this was difficult. I was so excited about this new side of my husband and the new side of myself that I could hardly stand even the barest touch of the toy to my clit. I teased myself slowly, using the vibrator on my inner thighs, and then barely cruising the bulbous head over my pussy lips.

A shudder worked through my whole body, from the base of my spine outward, all the way to my fingertips. As I teased myself with the toy, I thought of what the outfit might mean. Clearly, Dan wasn’t taking me to some high end restaurant for our date night. That was for sure. But honestly, I was tired of five star restaurants and their snooty staff with their highbrow attitudes. Apparently, Dan was, too.

Where will he take me? I wondered as I finally slid the head of the toy inside my pussy. Oooh, that was nice. I squeezed my inner muscles on the rounded tip, and I almost sent myself spiraling into instant climax. I pulled out the vibrator and went back to rotating the head up and over my clit.

Maybe he wasn’t taking me anywhere. Perhaps we’d stay in, he’d dress me up, and then he’d tie me to the bed. I started to tremble all over at the thought. We’d never done anything like that before. Not that we’re entirely vanilla. We enjoy watching porn together, reading sexy stories aloud, flirting with each other like newlyweds, but we never had really stepped foot into the realm of kink.

Until now, I thought as I tugged on the chain running between the nipple clamps. I arched my back, working myself two ways the vibrator revved on my clit and the clamps tugged on my nipples. The sensations worked together to take me to the brink. I felt as if I’d had a room inside my brain filled with x rated fantasies, and Dan had given me the key to undo the lock on the door.

I came to the image of Dan finding me touching myself and punishing me for doing so. I fantasized about him using a suede flogger like one we’d seen in a movie on my bare ass. I can’t remember the last time I’d come so hard. I felt guilty as I put away my vibrator and all my new prizes, but I promised myself I would confess to Daniel as soon as he told me what the presents meant.

When Daniel called my office on Friday evening, I assumed he was finally going to discuss our dinner plans, if “dinner” was even on the menu. “Did you have a spot in mind?” I asked as innocently as possible. My mind remained consumed by the gifts he’d given me all week long.

“Yeah, baby.” Funny that he didn’t give me a restaurant name. “I know you have to work a bit late, but that’s not a problem. The place where we’re going doesn’t get started until 9:30. I want you to go home and change,” he said. “I left your clothes on the bed.”

My clothes. I had discovered the boots, stockings, nipple clamps, and necklace. Had he added something more substantial? “So there’s a . . . ” I hesitated, “a dress code?”

“You could say that.”

He was being so sly I could not wait to race home. The commute was pure, torturous foreplay. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to stroke myself on the subway. Of course, I didn’t want to get arrested. But I practically came because of the mental images in my head coupled with the vibrations of the train. When I raced into the apartment, I nearly tripped on my heels to get to the bedroom. On the bed waiting for me was a new dress one made entirely of PVC.

I’ve never worn anything like this before. Not that I am a prude, but PVC was new for me. I stroked my palms over the shiny material, and I felt a wave of anticipation flicker through me. What would the dress feel like when I slid into it? How would I look? I couldn’t wait to find out.

First, I glanced around and found no bra, no panties, only the pair of thigh high stockings. I started to feel hot all over. Daniel wanted me to wear this? Without any underclothes? What could he possibly have in mind for us?

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Right as I zipped myself up, I heard Daniel’s key in the lock, and then the sound of his footsteps heading down the hallway to our bedroom. He wolf whistled when he saw me. “You look fucking unbelievable,” he said, walking around me. “I hardly ever get to see you out of a suit.”

I felt myself start to blush. I glanced in the mirror and saw that I’d transformed. The dress fit me like a second skin although one made of stretchy, shiny vinyl and you could easily see the nipple clamps through the formfitting fabric. When we’ve gone out in the past, I have always worn what I’ve considered a standard chic uniform: Little black dress and classy black pumps. I’ve never gone out on one of our Fridays without wearing underwear. This was a whole new me.

The question in my mind was: Now what? Where was Dan taking me? What sort of place required a dress code like this?

Dan wouldn’t say a word. He simply slid the necklace around my neck and buckled the leather strap into place. My heart beat so fast. Who would have thought that the addition of a collar would turn me on so much? I would have fucked him right then if he’d let me. I would have spread my legs on the bed at least, as wide as my legs could be spread in a dress so tight and had him pound me into oblivion. Dan gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and said, “Later we have somewhere to go.” He led me from our apartment with the statement: “Don’t worry about reservations,” he told me. “I don’t think you’ll have any.”

I pondered those words during the cab ride to a location entirely unlike any that we’d ever been to together. We stopped at a club, with a bouncer outside and discreet signage over the canopy. I found I was holding my breath as Dan paid the cabbie and then walked us to the front door. The bouncer looked us over, me particularly, and my cheeks turned pink. He gave me a smirk, and let us in.

The club was dark, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. For the first few seconds, I could only sense the bodies around us, and I could hear the throb of music. Then Dan led me forward, and I saw everything all at once. There was a main stage, on which a man was binding a woman in place. She had cuffs on her wrists and a blindfold over her eyes. Her body was slim and decorated with colorful tattoos. I saw the man reach for a paddle, and I wanted to stop and watch, but Dan moved us forward.

Along one wall was a bar, and cages were suspended above with a go go dancer in each one. I looked up, admiring the way the dancers moved. I felt as if there was too much to see at once, as Dan moved us through the crowd to a hallway. Had he been here before? He seemed to know his way around. “I read the write up on Yelp,” he whispered in my ear, as if he understood the instant query in my mind. That made me laugh, the thought of a bondage club being reviewed on Yelp. But my laughter stopped as Dan pulled me into a room, holding me to him, so my body was aligned with his.

Together we watched a scene. A lovely brunette was being tied up with rope, her body completely positioned by the man in charge. She seemed loose and relaxed for the entire event, and I marveled at her level of Zen especially when he brought out the flogger.

Dan put his hand up my dress right when the man struck the first blow. “You’re wet,” he said right into my ear. He was telling the truth. My pussy was dripping.

“I know.”

“What part of this is making you wet?” His breath was so hot, and I was hot, yet a shiver ran through me.

“All of it.”

“Tell me.”

“Watching,” I whispered in his ear, “and being dressed like this, and having you next to me, and feeling the heat of everyone around us.”

“Do you like what he’s doing to her?”

I swallowed hard, gazing as the man struck the woman again. He was crisscrossing the tails of the flogger so that they seemed to hit and caress every part of the girl’s ass. I would have happily traded places with her, which was a brand new thought for me.

“Yes,” I told Dan, and I realized as I said the word, it was true. This is what I’d envisioned when I’d made myself come while dressed up in my presents: Dan punishing me. I pressed my palm against his slacks, feeling his stiffening cock nestled beneath, and he stifled a moan.

“What do you want?” he asked, his mouth to my ear as he whispered hotly.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He moved us quickly after that. He led us back through the rooms, my mind taking mental snapshots of each scenario as we hurried past. Then suddenly we were out in the cool night air. He pushed me up against the wall while we waited for a cab, and he kissed me with the passion and intensity that he had when we were first dating. When he turned his wrist to look at his watch, I saw that we’d spent an hour in the club. How had that happened? The evening had seemed to fly by.

The cab ride home was my idea of hell. I wanted him to fuck me, but I knew Dan wouldn’t. Not in a cab. I was practically creaming in my dress. Dan paid the cabbie, tipping twice as much as the ride itself cost because we couldn’t wait for the change. He raced us up to our apartment, and I realized we were home earlier than we’d ever been after one of those five star meals the ones that drag on for course after course. Dan had me on the bed in seconds, but he surprised me. He pulled cuffs out from our nightstand cuffs I’d never seen before.

“Wrists over your head,” he said. He sounded like the dominant man we’d observed at the club. I obeyed immediately. He cuffed me and unzipped the dress until the fabric fell open, but the dress remained on, trapped on my body by the cuffs. Then he rolled me onto my stomach and pressed his cock to my body. Even through his trousers, I could feel how turned on he was.

“You liked watching, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“You say ‘Yes, Sir’ when I ask you a question.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. The wetness was dripping down my thighs toward my boots. I was dying for him to slide his cock inside me.

“You want me to fuck you now?” He asked the question with the same courteous tone that he did when asking me if I’d like a glass of wine at a restaurant.

I started to nod, and then I remembered. “Yes, Sir.”

“Beg me.”

Was he serious? I looked over my shoulder at him. His green eyes narrowed. “Beg me,” he said. His pants were tented by his erection, but he didn’t look at all as if he were ready to give in.

“Please,” I said.

“Please what?”

This was so unlike either of us. We’d always been equals in the bedroom and out, but I liked the way submitting felt. I had to admit that to myself. “Please, Dan,” I started. “Please, Sir,” I corrected myself. “Please, put your big, hard cock in my slippery, wet pussy.”

That didn’t sound like me, either. I’ve never managed to talk dirty before, but I couldn’t help myself. “Please, Dan. I can’t wait any longer. This whole week has been the most intense foreplay of my life.”

“Mine, too,” Dan confessed, and he unfastened his slacks and revealed his majestic hard on. I sighed when I saw that he was as aroused as I was. I’d never seen his rod look so big and fierce. Dan parted my pussy lips with his fingertips. I’m sure our neighbors heard my groans. I’d never been loud before. Not really loud. Not “put a ball gag in your mouth” loud. But Dan pushed a pillow toward me. “In case you really need to scream,” he said.

I realized I wanted to. How odd that being bound had made me want to let loose as I never had before. Maybe bondage brings out different sides in people. The sensation definitely brought out a new side of myself. I was wild as he fucked me, tossing my hair, bucking my body. Maybe it was because he had my wrists in place, but I was more aware than ever of every single movement I made.

Dan started to spank me as he fucked me. He let his big hand come down on my ass in rhythm with the way his cock drove inside me.

“Did you like the way the woman looked while she was being flogged?”

I gazed over my shoulder at him, so I could see his face. “Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll try that next week,” he said. “I’ll get you your own special flogger, and you can leave it out on the bed when you want me to use it on you.”

My pussy responded to his teasing words and my mind filled with erotic images. I was dripping wet, wetter than I can remember ever being before. The tops of the boots were covered with my musky juices. Dan continued to pound me hard, the spanks punctuating his thrusts.

“I know we didn’t stay long this time,” he said, “but I’ve been needing to get in you all week. We’ll go back and stay longer next time.”

I thought of the different images I’d seen during the evening. From the bouncer, to the action on the main floor, to the pretty girl getting her bottom tanned. It was enough fuel for months of fantasies. I could tell that Dan was getting close when he gripped my hair in his hand and pulled. I whimpered as he sped up the pace, hitting his stride as he fucked me into the mattress. “You make such a pretty sub,” he groaned. “Now I want you to come with me.”

He pulled my hips up so I was balanced on my elbows, and he reached one hand under my body to play with my clit. I knew he wanted me to come when he did, and I felt the climax start slowly and then build, so that I was almost crying with the release when my orgasm finally hit. Dan and I had never done anything like this before, and I could not believe how free I felt. Bondage set me free how odd is that?

“So what did you think about date night?” Daniel asked me as he opened the cuffs.

“That was definitely a five star fuck,” I told him, thinking that we’d come a long way from checking out reviews in The New York Times to searching for bondage clubs online. “And I can’t wait until next week,” I told Daniel.

“Why?” he asked, unscrewing the nipple clamps and kissing my nipples in turn as I gasped happily.

I arched my back and sighed. “Because it will be up to me to surprise you.”

Do As I Say

“What’s the sad face for, Bree?”

“I’m just . . . ” I didn’t want to say. I knew how dumb the words would sound, and I was certain that Lance would make fun of me. Other people had real, honest to goodness complaints. Mine were like cotton candy floss light and ethereal, without any real substance.

“Tell me,” Lance insisted, leaning against the doorframe of the living room.

“It’s nothing.”

I should have known better, tried harder, acted differently. Lance isn’t the type of person to accept an answer like that. He came over to where I was sprawled out on our sofa and waited. I didn’t look at him at first, but he didn’t say anything else. Ultimately, he won the silent contest, forcing me to stare up at him. He didn’t ask me a second time. The question remained in my roommate’s green eyes. Why hadn’t I noticed how striking those eyes were in the past? We’d been roommates for nearly six months, and I’d never actually taken the time to admire how handsome he was. That didn’t make confessing the situation any easier.

“I haven’t been able to get off.”

“Get off what?”

Oh, God. This really wasn’t going well. “You know,” I stuttered, mortified, “jerk . . . ”

“I’m a jerk for asking you what’s wrong?”

Jesus. I needed an intervention for my mouth. My words were failing me. “No, no, it’s only that I haven’t been able to, you know, jerk off. Get myself off.”

He laughed. “That’s why you’ve been moping around the house? Come on, Bree. You’re being silly.”

I got a little huffy at the way he’d dismissed my dilemma. “What’s silly to one person is serious to another,” I said, sounding a bit like a fortune cookie proclamation.

“You think this is a problem?”

Now that we were actually discussing my sad, solo love life, I was willing to delve deeper. “Yeah,” I said, “I don’t operate the same way if I don’t get pleasure.”

He stared at me. “You usually are a bit perkier,” he agreed.

I sighed. Had anyone else in the history of the universe had such an uncomfortable conversation with a roommate? I wished I’d kept my moping to my bedroom.

“Maybe I can help,” he continued, surprising me.

“Help?”

We stared at each other for a moment. Were we going to cross the line? Take our relationship from two people who shared the same apartment to two people who shared the same bed? Several of my girlfriends had already suggested that Lance would make a perfect boyfriend for me. He had a good job. He was dependable. We shared a lot of the same interests. I always thought that was why we were such good roommates. Could we also be good at something else?

“Bend over the arm of the sofa.”

I gazed at him, dumbfounded. Had he just demanded that I get over the edge of the sofa? Bend over and do what? And why did I immediately feel my pussy growing wet? There was something new in Lance’s tone, that’s for sure. He sounded commanding, and I found myself longing to obey. But I hung back. I wanted more information before I committed to something this life changing.

“Get over the arm of the sofa, Bree. If you want me to help you, you have to do exactly what I say.”

“How is bending over the arm of the sofa going to help me?”

“Trust me.”

I did trust him, but I still wasn’t sure.

“And you have to stop staring at me like a lost little lamb and move your fanny before I move it for you.”

I took a deep breath, and then I bent over. I felt ridiculous positioned over the arm of the sofa, staring at the pillow I’d been sitting on one minute earlier.

“Pull down your panties.”

“What did you say?”

“Are we going to go through this routine with everything I tell you to do? Because that’s not going to work for me.”

“It’s just that that’s not how I do it,” I blurted out. Someday maybe I’ll learn. Today wasn’t the day.

“And it’s working for you, is it? The way you do it.” He couldn’t have been more sarcastic.

I stood up and pulled down my pink satin bikinis. I was glad I had chosen these ones rather than some more utilitarian pair, but I was embarrassed by the wet spot. Sure, Lance had seen my panties before but only when they were hanging to dry in the shower. I wondered if he felt as excited as I did at the prospect of what we were doing or what we were about to do.

“Now bend over the arm of the sofa again and lift your skirt.”

“Really,” I gazed at him over my shoulder, not getting it. “I always do it face up. I mean, when I touch myself.” It’s sad how slow I can be sometimes.

He looked at me. That’s all it took. A look. I reached around and lifted the back of my short, floral skirt.

“Don’t stroke your pussy until I give you permission. Do you understand, Bree?”

I nodded. I liked the way he said “pussy.” It struck a chord inside me. I wanted to hear him say other dirty words.

“Do you understand?” he asked again. The tone of his voice had changed dramatically. I did not look over my shoulder. I didn’t want to see the expression on his face. “Yes, Lance.”

“Choose a safeword.”

I didn’t ask what a safeword was. I knew. But my mind began running away with new fantasies. What was he going to do to me that required a safeword?

Oh.

I heard him undoing his buckle. This time, I did turn to look over my shoulder. Big mistake. In a second, his leather belt was free and doubled over.

“Safeword,” he demanded.

“Emerald,” I said, thinking of his eyes.

“Don’t use it unless you have to.”

It wasn’t a question, but I said, “Yes, Lance,” for good measure, as if the words might win me some brownie points. I thought I was going to need them.

The belt landed hot against my skin. I flinched and tried to stand. Immediately, Lance pushed me down into place. Feeling undeniably aroused, I wiggled my ass at him, and he smacked me a second time. Then a third. “Let’s see if we’re getting the right reaction,” he said, slipping a hand between my thighs and testing for wetness. I groaned.

“Looks as if we’re on our way.”

How had he known? Then I recalled that drunken night we’d discussed how spankings turn me on a secret I’d rarely confessed to most of the men I’d dated. I didn’t want to see a shocked look on a paramour’s face, or hear a “you like to be what?” from an indignant lover. Lance didn’t seem to have any problem spanking me. He snapped the belt in the air with practiced ease. I straightened up again, even though he hadn’t landed the leather on my skin.

“Jumpy,” he said. “You need to hold yourself still. I’m lining up three in a row.”

“Lance . . . ”

“Behaving is always the way to go, Bree,” he said. “You behave for me, and I’ll give you everything you’ve ever dreamed about.”

I accepted what he said, but spankings sting. I am never able to act the way I imagine I will. In my fantasies, I see myself receiving spankings in the most pristine, passive type of way. No kicking. No crying. No such luck.

He struck. One. Two. Three. I put my hands back to protect my ass. Bad move. Lance had reached the limits of his patience. He dropped the belt, grabbed me in his arms, sat down on the sofa, and hauled me over his lap. Everything was happening almost too quickly for me to process. He ripped my panties from where they’d landed on my ankles and began to spank me hard and fast with his bare hand. I squirmed and kicked. He scissored one of his strong legs over both of mine, holding me easily in place. How had confessing that I hadn’t been able to climax landed me here?

Well, maybe it was more than that simple confession. Maybe Lance and I had shared a few coy gazes over the past six months. Maybe we’d had a slow burn of foreplay up to this moment of no return.

My ass was throbbing, and I was squirming uncontrollably. But Lance clearly didn’t care. His hand moved rapidly left cheek, right cheek, sweet spot and then he shoved me onto the floor facedown and parted my legs. I buried my face in my arms as he tested again for wetness. No, wait. That’s not what he was doing. He was spanking my pussy. Oh, holy fuck.

“Do you like that?”

I didn’t know what to say. Yes, I liked it. But I was embarrassed to admit that the pat a cake he was playing on my pussy lips was going to bring me to climax. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if I confessed or not. I was right on the verge of coming. If he touched my clit, just touched it, the pleasure would come unbidden.

Lance seemed to understand. He spanked my ass five times in a row, so hard that I squealed out loud, and then he brought his hands between my thighs once more and rubbed firmly against my clit.

“I’m coming,” I moaned into my arms.

“That’s my girl,” Lance said softly, continuing to stroke my pussy. “That’s my sweet girl.”

Lance didn’t pause to discuss what had just happened between us. While the blissful sensations were still zinging through my body, Lance picked me up in his arms once more and brought me down the hall to his bedroom. Yeah, I’d been in his room before, but never as a lover, only as a roommate. Why had I not noticed that his headboard had a hook over it? Why had I never really paid attention to the glossy red and black fraternity paddle mounted over his dresser? And why did looking at that formidable paddle make me suddenly ready for round two?

“So you got off, did you?” Lance asked. His voice was back to its menacing tone once more. I knew better than to simply sigh and languish on his black comforter. I said, “Yes, Lance,” as if he was my master every day of the week.

“And we did it differently than you usually do it?” There was a hint of humor in his voice now, but I somehow knew better than to crack a smile. This felt like a test. I wanted to pass.

“Yes, Lance.”

“Tell me, Bree, do you usually have two orgasms back to back?”

I shook my head.

“Let’s try something else,” he said. “Something special. Will you listen to me, Bree? Will you do what I say?”

Now I nodded.

“Lie down and put your hands over your head.”

He had handcuffs in his hand, as if by magic. My heart started to pound, and I tried to move out of his reach, scrambling toward the headboard. He was having none of my games.

“I’m not even going to ask if I need to tie you down,” he said. “You’ve more than shown me by your behavior that you need some assistance.” I heard the rattle of the cuffs. Why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut? If I’d gone about my day in peace, I’d never have been on the receiving end of a punishment session like the one this was turning out to be. And all because I couldn’t make myself come.

“Take off your clothes.” I’d forgotten I was still wearing clothes! I stripped the t shirt off, lost the skirt. My panties were somewhere in the living room, and I hadn’t put on a bra today. Naked, I felt even more vulnerable than I had before.

“Arms over your head.”

For once, I obeyed without a word of protest.

“Wrists together.”

Like a soldier.

He hesitated. “But how are you going to get off if your hands are cuffed?” Christ, he was teasing me. “This can’t be the way you do it, can it?”

“No, Lance.”

“And yet you’re going to have to put your faith in me on this, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Lance.”

“I don’t think I like your tone of voice.”

Sorry, Lance. I kept that one to myself. I wanted to be flippant. But I also wanted to be able to sit down again in the near future. Those two wants were quite obviously mutually exclusive. I bit my tongue. He slid on the cuffs, and then rolled me over so I was facedown on the mattress. I felt the wetness in my pussy start to build again. He clearly wasn’t done punishing me, and that thought made my cunt run like a faucet.

“So you haven’t been able to get off?” he asked, and his voice was that low honey of a purr that tends to hypnotize me into saying the wrong thing at the wrong time like in that Depeche Mode song.

“No, Lance.

“Tell me how you’ve tried.”

I blushed. I’d never told anyone about the way I masturbated. God, I don’t even like saying the word out loud. It sounds clinical, wrong for such a sexy type of action. There really ought to be a softer, sweeter way to describe making yourself come.

Lance spanked me lightly, as if to remind me I was on the hot seat.

“I was just stuck on neutral,” I said, hoping that would suffice.

“You used your hand?”

I nodded.

“And . . . ”

How did he know me so well? “And a vibrator,” I said, suddenly wondering if maybe he’d heard the engine rumble through the connecting wall between our bedrooms. “I did all the little tricks I usually do, but nothing worked.”

“What little tricks?”

I didn’t want to say. Talking about this was embarrassing to me. I pouted.

Lance spanked me again.

“I fantasized about being punished,” I told him. “I thought about situations like this.”

“How like this?”

“Being whipped with a belt.”

I watched as he reached for the belt he’d brought with him from the living room.

“I can get you off again,” he said. “I have no doubt.”

The belt licked at me. I ground my hips against the mattress. Lance struck me with the belt again. I pressed my pussy firmly against the mattress, getting a little thrill from that brief contact.

“You look so pretty like that,” Lance told me. “Your ass is still red from the spanking I gave you in the living room. And now you can’t put your hands back there to ward off the blows. You simply have to take it.”

“I like to take it,” I said, before I could stop myself.

“What was that?”

I didn’t know if I should bite my tongue or repeat myself. I chose the latter. “I like to take it,” I said. “That’s one of the main things I think about whenever I . . . whenever I touch myself.”

“What do you want to take from me?”

I turned my head so I could stare at Lance. I wanted to see his expression. I wanted to feel safe.

“I want your cock,” I said. I hit the word cock hard. Lance licked his bottom lip and stared back at me. “What will you do for me?”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“What will you take for me?”

I swallowed hard. I thought I knew what he wanted me to say. “Ten,” I said. “Ten strokes.”

“Good girl.” He doubled the belt once more. I steeled myself for the first blow. Lance waited. Or, rather, he made me wait. I was hanging in mid air. That’s how it felt. Suspended in hyperspace, waiting for the pain, yearning for the leather on my skin. Right when I was about to start begging, Lance landed the first blow. He hit me a second time, across both cheeks, and I closed my eyes tight. The third stroke made me whimper. The fourth one made me moan. Lance was good. He knew exactly how to lift me up and cruise me back down some of the strikes were hard and stinging. Others were more mellow, a slap of leather on skin. At five, he did something unexpected. He reached for the handcuff key on the bedside table and released one of my hands.

“Put your hand down there and start touching yourself,” he demanded, with a hint of breathlessness.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I started rubbing my fingers against my clit as he landed strokes six, seven and eight. I was getting closer by the second. I knew this orgasm was going to be intense. I felt as if I’d earned the pleasure. The ninth stroke was light, teasing. The tenth he made count. Hard. So hard. Then he was on the bed with me. I heard the sound of him ripping open his jeans, knew that he was pulling out his cock. He got me into a semi upright position so he could slam in from behind. His cock was so hard, exactly as I’d imagined. He drove in fast from the start, and I felt myself melting onto him. He slammed into me, then pulled out, slammed in again, and pulled out slowly. I kept stroking my clit, up on my knees, my cuffed hand clutching the headboard for balance, Lance holding my hips to keep me rock steady.

The rhythm was sublime. He was taking me higher with every stroke. My fingertips were simply enhancing what his cock was doing to my pussy.

“I’ve been wanting to do this, waiting to do this, for months,” he hissed.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t tell . . . ” This was a confession. It made me want him even more.

“Why didn’t you ask?”

He kept driving into me, hitting those secret, special places deep inside me, places that I can’t seem to get with my vibrator.

“Why didn’t I ask?” he taunted, mimicking me mercilessly. “Why didn’t I ask if you were a little slut who needed her bottom tanned in order to get off? Why didn’t I ask if you were a naughty girl who required a bit of discipline before she reached climax?”

“Well, yeah,” I managed to sigh. “Why didn’t you?”

He laughed and grabbed a handful of my thick, dark hair, holding me tight. “I was waiting for the right time,” he murmured as he pounded me harder still. “This seemed like the right time.”

“It was,” I told him. “I mean, it is. I mean, Lance I’m going to come again.”

“Do it,” he said. “Come for me, Bree. Come with me . . . ” That’s all I needed to hear, and we were climaxing together, Lance with his cock buried to the hilt in my pussy, me with my fingers slipping for purchase on my wet clit.

God, it was good. So necessary. So satisfying. I waited as Lance withdrew, as he took the key and undid my bound wrist, as he gripped me in his strong arms and held me to him tightly. I rested my head on his strong chest, relaxing as if this was something he and I did every day of the week. Maybe it would be from now on. We seemed to connect so well, that white hot, kinky sex connection that few people have and everyone yearns for.

And then he asked the question that brought a fresh flush to my cheeks.

“So how long had it been since you’d last climaxed?”

I stared at the ceiling, then out the window, then at the lamp fixture overhead. I didn’t want to say. I didn’t know how he’d respond.

“Tell,” he insisted, gripping my chin in his hand so I couldn’t look away.

“Last night,” I stammered, feeling my heart start to race once more as I saw him reach into the drawer of his bedside table and pull out a paddle. Clearly, my dry spell had come to an end.

MY WIFE AND THE GREAT SANTINI

Ever since the first time I spanked my wife, I get an unbelievable thrill, whether I use my hand, whip, belt or paddle to redden her bottom. The smacking noise, the whoosh of the whip through the air, the marks on her skin always excite me to a point I hope I’ll never get used to.

Andrea says the pain is exciting and the lingering marks keep her stimulated and eager for sex until they fade away. She says she needs to really let go every now and then, and playing out our S&M scenes is her favorite way. We don’t have time for long, involved scenes very often, but the last time I went out of town, we arranged a special homecoming.

That morning I was having coffee in a DC 10 stacked up over Logan Airport. When I talked to Andrea the night before, I gave her specific instructions regarding her wardrobe. My own gray wool suit was freshly cleaned, my shirt laundered and starched to my taste. As I looked at my gold initialed cuff links and onyx signet ring, I thanked God for Andrea’s good taste.

I checked the time on my pocket watch and folder the paper squarely on top of my black leather attach both her gifts. I carried this case for only one reason, and Andrea knew why. All blueprints, notes and contracts form this trip were in a separate, larger portfolio.

I leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes and considered Andrea. She’d be neatly dressed in a light gray wool suit, a white silk blouse and a single strand of pearls at her throat. Her short hair would be lacquered on the top and styled to look tousled, in the current fashion. I was looking forward to seeing her, touching her, getting her all worked up.

In my briefcase were the latest “marital aids” and an array of custom leatherwork I had picked up in Georgetown. The shop owner was a fellow enthusiast and he spent a pleasant afternoon instructing me in the proper treatment of one’s spouse. “Really though, it is easy, Monsieur. Just give her what she wants.”

I resigned myself to the landing delay and started constructing a scene to begin at the airport. I would clip the little gold chain on my belt to Andrea’s bracelet, and we would leave the airport linked. People had pointed and whispered before they would again no matter. No onlooker had ever interfered. She would ignore the crowd and I would be aloof. My hand would rest on her behind just like a mommy’s hand on her kid’s head.

I shifted in my seat a little as my excitable buddy swelled against the seam of my trousers in a pleasantly uncomfortable way. Now let’s see, when she’s stripped I’ll have her bring me the attach …

The plane’s wheels touched down with a bump and gave my cock a nudge. Soon, Santini, soon.

Andrea stood waiting for inspection. I smiled my approval and embraced her. After I clipped on her chain, she lowered her eyes. We stood silently, waiting for my bags. As the skycap collected them, I walked outside to the cabstand with Andrea by my side.

The cab driver loaded my bags into the trunk, but I kept the attach with me. I guided Andrea into the cab, handed her the attach and told her to keep it on her lap. As I gave the driver our address, I unbuttoned her blouse. Her nipples rose to hardness as I pinched and twisted them. Pushing her legs apart, I massaged the tops of her thighs, inching closer and closer to her heated lips.

Andrea stood beside me while I paid the driver. And again as I surveyed the room. Tabletops were polished, and the floors gleamed. A luncheon of cheese, fruit and bread was arranged on a bamboo tray.

“Well done, Andrea. Now, before we eat, hand me my attach . I had Bernard make something for you.” I sat on the couch, the case unopened on my knees, and offered her a cigarette. After a few minutes, I said, “Take off your clothes now, and we’ll begin.” She stubbed out her cigarette and undressed, folding and stacking each article of clothing on a side table. Naked, she knelt in front of me. “Unzip my pants now, the pressure is unbearable.”

Andrea was quick to oblige, and automatically licked her lips as I stood and stepped out of my trousers and shorts. I had her stand up and began with the two inch waistband. Next a modified pair of chaps latticed strips of skintight leather instead of the usual solid, heavy material. This left a checkerboard of skin exposed. The inside was rough, unfinished leather and the outside was suede soft.

I snapped the chaps onto the waistband and slipped the matching latticework jacket over her arms. It fit snugly over her torso and just right across her shoulders. The half cup bra pushed her small breasts up against the crisscrossed leather in a way that would surely stimulate her and certainly appealed to me. I snapped the jacket onto the waistband and placed Andrea’s hand on my cock. I told her simply, “Stroke Santini.”

She cradled my balls with one hand and pulled up and down with the other. She moved with her whole body and I could see that whichever way she moved, the suit compressed her flesh. I wanted to climax and I wanted to hold off, so I took her hands away.

Fully erect, the great Santini bobbed around as I went to draw the curtain back, gaining access to the exposed brick wall and our “collection.” I’ve installed heavy iron rings at several heights as well as an overhead bar and pulley. Off to the right are various lengths of chain, clamps, fastening hooks and bands to restrain any part of the body. On the left side our whips and blindfolds are neatly arranged. I selected a full hood of black leather. We keep an antique shoeshine box for a platform it is a very useful piece. I positioned the box for Andrea, led her to the wall and slipped the hood over her head.

I bucked restraining bands around her wrists and ankles, then stretched her arms apart above her head and secured them to the appropriate rings. I fastened her feet to the box, then hooked her waistband close to the wall. Her shoulders and chest, pressed against the cool brick, would contrast with her soon to be inflamed bottom. The hood would protect her head and face from abrasions.

“Ready, Andrea?” She nodded.

I took a bright pink silicone dildo from my attach and slid it into her cunt. I opened a jar of mentholated lubricant and dipped a second purple dildo into the white grease, pulled her asscheeks apart and popped in the tip. I let her membranes absorb the menthol before pressing her sphincter to relax. “Take it all in. Keep your legs together. That’s it.” I pushed the full length into her and nodded as she gasped. I clipped a small chain to the front of her waistband and brought it between her legs, through the rings on the ends of the dildos and snugly up her asscrack to keep the dildos in and snapped the other end to her waistband.

I pressed the remote control vibrate switch and as the intensity increased, she moaned louder. I selected her favorite whip, our cat o’ nine tails. The handle is a ten inch solid leather roll the knotted cords are eighteen inches long. It produces nice, bead shaped welts.

I stood about three feet behind her and took a few warm up swings alongside her legs. I believe it is imperative to gauge my strength and evaluate the action of the whip at the beginning of every scene. Then I began on her back, sure the outfit would protect her. Moving down to her buns, I brought them up to a light pink color and paused to increase both levels of stimulation inside her. She started humping her hips in response but couldn’t really move more than an inch or two.

She tossed her head as I lashed the white patches of her thighs until they reddened. Then I resumed work on her cheeks first one side and then the other turned fiery red. She gasped each time the whip landed on her behind. The sight and sound of her soon had Santini demanding his rights, and I tossed down the whip and gave him a few soothing strokes. I wanted to be in her ass so bad.

I told Andrea to come on the count of ten, picked up the whip and wrapped out ten blows with the handle on the fleshiest curve of her buns. She panted like a dog from blows three to seven, shrieked through eight and nine and exploded on blow ten.

I unhooked Andrea and lowered her to the floor. Santini couldn’t wait, so the dildo stayed in place and I took her mouth instead. The black hood was so smooth in my hands. Her body flip flopped as I came, yet she swallowed my cream, obedient to the finish.

I collapsed into her and panted for several minutes. When I switched the power off, her squeals dwindled to satisfied sighs. I looked her over for unintended injuries, pulled her to her feet and removed the hood. Leading Andrea to the bathroom, I removed her leathers and helped her into a soft terry robe. She turned, hugged me and whispered, “After lunch, will you fuck my ass? It’s hot, hot, hot.”

“Just what we had in mind,” I said, stroking myself again.

Mr. E.Y., Massachusetts

MA’AM, YES MA’AM!

We had been army brats together up until the point that she sprouted into womanhood. Then, as often happened, her dad was reassigned to another base. Being young, our letters let up and we never saw each other again. Until tonight, that is.

And was she ever something to see! This was no tomboy anymore. Still long and lean, Pamela seemed to be ninety percent legs, which were neatly displayed by a gown slit up to the hip. Her breasts pressed heavily against the front of the backless dress. Smiling, she greeted me. Suddenly it was as if we had never parted. Conversation flowed and the evening passed much too quickly. Finally, as we leaned on each other and giggled as we made our way through the parking lot, Pamela invited me back to her apartment. Loving the feel of her warm body, I pulled her closer to me.

“But more than a few things have changed since you’ve seen me last,” she whispered. Staring down at her swaying breasts, I told her she was right. “No, I don’t just mean that. I got to like several things about the army. Mostly, I like to be in charge. Do you think you’re up to trying things my way?” The flash of her eyes told me to think carefully her soft curves tight against me told my thickening cock that I had to have her. There was no way that I was ever going to let this beautiful woman from my past get away from me.

As I closed the door to her apartment, Pamela excused herself and disappeared into the bedroom. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what she might have in mind for the evening. Anticipation was getting to me when the bedroom door opened and Pamela stepped back into the living room on four inch high heels of brown, ankle length boots. Her long legs were bare up to a pair of khaki shorts small enough to pass as panties. A khaki shirt with military ribbons and medals was barely able to hold in her straining chest as her nipples tented the material. The bottom of the shirt was knotted just below her full breasts, giving a pleasant view of her flat stomach.

Pamela had pulled back her shoulder length hair and stuffed it under a smart military cap. Mirrored sunglasses totally changed her soft female face into something stern and commanding. The swagger stick in her hand tapped against my belt buckle as she told me to prepare for inspection. In seconds I was totally naked before this militaristic vision of a woman. But I also knew that I had never been so turned on in my entire life, my knees knocked out taps as my cock stood fully at attention.

Taking her time looking over my “weapon,” Pamela mentioned that she hoped I had plenty of ammunition. Then she produced a pair of handcuffs. With two soft clicks, my hands were made helpless behind my back. Mentioning that company property should be “secured” at all times, she produced a length of thin cord. Deft fingers quickly wrapped the cord around and in between my balls. I found myself moaning helplessly as she pulled the cord tighter.

Kneeling, she leaned forward, and my cock briefly entered the valley between her breasts. Surrounded by her warm softness, my cock grew larger than it had ever been. Grabbing its purple head, Pamela wound the thin rope up, candy striping my erection. A few more twists and my swollen cock was pinned to my waist as the rope was knotted behind my hips.

Pamela stepped forward and pushed me harshly to my knees, and I found myself at eye level with her crotch. The scent of her heated cunt reached me long before she did, and my nostrils flared at the smell of her hunger. “You may now undress me.” Her even voice never betrayed how hot she must be. Shaking the handcuffs, I asked her how. She tapped the end of her swagger stick on the sensitive tip of my cock and said, “With your mouth, you silly boy!”

Quickly I put my mouth to work and somehow managed to undo the top button of her shorts. Pulling down on the tab of her zipper was one thing getting the shorts off was another problem altogether. They couldn’t have been tighter if they had been painted on. Crawling on my knees and circling around her, I slowly worked the khakis lower. Teeth nipping and tugging, my face buried in the sweet softness of her ass, I finally got them to drop to her ankles.

It had been hard work, and sweat dripped from my body. As I gasped for breath, my cock throbbing, Pamela stepped up close again. “What are you stopping for? You haven’t finished yet. Get those panties off!” Again she smacked my trapped prick with her crop until I thrust my face in her steaming crotch and grabbed the lacy G string in my teeth.

Pulling the garment down was easier than I would have thought, until I reached the bottom of her bush. Then I simply stopped. My pulling and tugging increased dramatically when Pamela started beating my ass with the swagger stick, yelling at me to move faster. Finally I could see what had halted me. The center of her panties was connected to a dildo! By grabbing the material at its base between my teeth and pulling straight down, I was able to free it from its wet sheath with a wet, slurping pop.

When I had worked the panties nearly down to her knees, Pamela commanded, “First clean it!” When she spotted the first glimpse of my confusion, she whacked my ass and shouted, “You take it in your mouth, and suck it clean!”

I’m sure I must have made some sight, kneeling between her legs and giving head to that plastic prick. Pamela got so hot watching me that she pulled free long enough to step out of her panties, grab a handful of my hair and jam my face into her wet pussy.

Eagerly I lapped out her pussy until my entire face, ear to ear, was wet. I couldn’t get enough! Her head thrown back in pleasure, Pamela told me she had been wearing those panties all night, working herself to secret climaxes over and over again during the evening, thinking about when I would be her helpless slave.

Hooking her right leg over my shoulder, she pulled my face in even tighter. Now my tongue was centered on her clit, licking and sucking, taking her to orgasm again and again. As she spiked me with her heel to spur me on, I took her clit between my teeth and gave a more than gentle bite. That was all the more she needed. Her body rocked as she was hit by a string of fast, furious orgasms. Finally, holding the top of my head for support, Pamela pulled away from my face and slumped down next to me.

Catching my breath, I could feel my own body tremble as slim fingers undid the knots and then removed the cords binding my cock. Fresh blood flowing in caused a strange tingling as my erection swelled even larger. Ever so slowly, Pamela began stroking me. The grip that she had seemed to be much harder than the one I’d have guessed to be pleasurable, but soon I was moaning and begging until I came with a loud grunt. That night I enlisted in her “special service,” and I’ve been doing “maneuvers” with her ever since. The army never had a drill sergeant like this I can guarantee that.

Mr. R.B., Georgia

THE CARE AND FEEDING OF AN AMERICAN PRINCESS

Having always been drawn to the soft, compliant, “feminine” woman as opposed to the combative, career fixated type that delight in challenging you at every turn, I didn’t think Millicent and I had a prayer of making it past our first date. For one thing, she talked a lot, about herself mostly, and to question her on anything was to provoke a barrage of “facts” designed to support her position and silence you forever. She exuded an air of authority that had me seriously considering the pleasure of pouring a pitcher of ice water over her head. No, Millicent was not my ideal woman.

But Lord, was she ever beautiful. Raven ringlets fell in lazy swirls about her shoulders, framing a clear complected face seemingly sculpted by a master craftsman with a passion for perfection. Her well tailored blouse and skirt accentuated her lovely curves, suggesting to even the casual observer that hers was a body which, when naked, would inspire the most jaded swordsman. Still, I was looking forward to the end of the evening and making a mental note to never again let Charlie, my conscientious best friend, fix me up. “She’s bright and beautiful,” Charlie had said. “What else could you want?” To get a word in edgewise, I thought, handing the waiter my charge card. The bill paid, I escorted Millicent outside the restaurant and to my car. Another half hour, which was how long it would take to drive Millicent to her apartment building, and I’d be a free man. We were in my car and I was about to start the engine when she put a hand on my arm. “Wait,” she said softly. I asked her what was wrong.

Millicent was looking down into her lap. She was quiet for a moment, and then, “I’ve been a real bitch tonight. I’ve treated you horribly, and I’m sorry, really sorry for that. I don’t know why I behave so terribly at times.” She brought her head up and looked over at me. I saw that her deep brown eyes were moist. All of a sudden she looked vulnerable. “But I do know I owe you something,” she continued, “for putting up with my bullshit. Take me home, Robert, and do with me what you will. Take me home and fuck the hell out of me.”

Millicent’s dramatic turnaround hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. For a moment I simply sat there, too stunned to speak. Naturally suspicious, I wondered what she was up to. Was Millicent as devious as she was desirable? “And I’m sure you know how to put a bitch like me in her place,” she was saying.

I stared at the luscious princess next to me. “All right,” I said.

Millicent sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, as we drove to her place. Neither of us spoke. By the time we were in her apartment, the door closed behind us, I had some idea of how I wanted the rest of the evening to go. First, naturally, was a spanking for Millicent.

“Yes, I deserve one,” she said just before stretching out full length across my legs with her head at one end of the sofa and her toes at the other.

The spanking was short but sweet twenty five smart slaps, plus an additional four to arrive at her age, all delivered with relish to her solid, succulent bottom. Millicent remained stretched across my legs after the spanking, her soft sobs and the sight of her bare ass so nicely framed between her pink underpants, which I had pulled down, and her skirt, which I had pulled up, keeping my cock hard and pressing up against her tummy.

“I want you to reach back and open your cheeks,” I said firmly. “Show me your asshole, Millicent.”

“Oh, God.”

“Do it. Now.”

Slowly bringing her hands back to her buttocks, Millicent pulled open the taut half moons of flesh to reveal her pretty, hairless anus. I ordered her to keep her hands in place and then, wetting a finger, began toying with her rear hole. Millicent moaned softly as I ran the finger over her asshole and then gasped when I worked a bit of it inside her. “You like this, I know you do,” I said, inching more of the finger inside her warm, gripping orifice. “It’s embarrassing,” Millicent moaned. “I feel so slutty.”

For several minutes more I played with Millicent’s snug asshole, eventually working my entire finger inside her and pumping it rhythmically as she squirmed on my lap. Her flushed face and her continuous moans of pleasure told me she was close to orgasm, so I quickly removed my finger. “No, no, sweetheart. You’re not going to come until I give the word. Understand me?” In a barely audible voice Millicent said she did.

I told Millicent to get off me and to slowly remove her clothes, everything but her bra and panties. I removed my jacket and tie, tossing both over the back of the sofa, then loosened a few of the buttons on my shirt and sat back down. Millicent’s clothes and shoes were soon in a neat pile on the floor. She looked delicious, and so vulnerable, standing before me in only her underwear. “Now play with yourself,” I said. “Perform for me.”

To my great pleasure, Millicent blushed. She asked if she could lie down and I answered no. “And remember, you’re not to come,” I added. Millicent began by placing both hands at her pussy and rubbing it through her panties. Then a hand went to her breasts and she squeezed them, pinching the nipples through the bra. “Take one tit out,” I said, and then watched as she freed her right breast from the confining bra cup. Her head tilted back and she moaned softly as she started kneading the tit and pinching the nipple, her other hand still stroking her pussy through her panties. “Now put your hand inside your panties,” I ordered. Millicent, obviously getting hotter by the second, obeyed immediately.

From time to time I would stop her and order her to assume a particular position before resuming her masturbation. Especially enjoyable was the one that found her in a submissive crouch, her luscious, panty clad ass pointing at me. With her head resting on her left arm she reached back between her legs with her right hand, slipping it once again inside her panties.

Toward the end of this particular scene, with a whimpering Millicent, on her feet again and masturbating, legs quivering, head lolling on her neck, I shouted at her not to come. She ignored the command, too far gone to obey it, and I jumped up from the sofa and took her hands away from her pussy. “Naughty, naughty,” I said.

Holding her hands behind her back, I marched Millicent into her bedroom. I had her get me a pair of pantyhose from a dresser drawer. I used the pantyhose to tie her hands behind her back. Then I sat her down on the bed, unzipped my fly and pulled out my aching hard on. I started rubbing the bulbous head all over her beautiful face. She kept moving her head this way and that as she tried to catch my cock with her mouth.

“Hungry for it, are you?” I asked.

“Pl please, let me have it,” Millicent whined.

“You like sucking cock, don’t you?” Again I moved my hard cock jus out of reach of her swiping tongue.

“Give it to me. I need it.”

“Open wide, princess. Stick out your tongue.”

Millicent obeyed instantly and I rested my cock on her tongue. Seconds later she was vacuuming it into her mouth, gobbling it with gusto, moaning around it. Every once in a while I would take a handful of her hair and, holding her head still, run my cock in and out of her pretty mouth, fucking her face, as it were. I was close to coming and trying to decide if I wanted to come in Millicent’s mouth when she suddenly pulled away from my cock and said, “Come on my face, please.”

I had but a few seconds to relish the sight of Millicent’s head tilted back and her tongue hanging out of her mouth before I started coming like crazy. Semen spewed from my throbbing cock to splatter her forehead, cheeks and chin. She kept her face in place, her tongue darting here and there to catch what come it could. On rubbery legs I stepped back and watched Millicent’s tongue scoop up one last glob of semen and shovel it into her mouth. “Thank you,” she said. “That was delicious.”

Taking a handkerchief from my pocket, I cleaned Millicent’s face and then removed my clothes. Naked, I stepped to the bed and helped her to her feet. I removed her bra and then, after ordering her to spread her legs, cupped her crotch and started rubbing her pussy through her soaked panties. “Did you wet your underpants?” I asked teasingly. “Feels that way.”

“N no,” Millicent stammered, grinding her pussy against my hand.

“Then you’re wet because you need to be fucked, is that it?”

“Yes. I need to be fucked.”

“Where do you want it? In your pussy?”

“Yes, in my pussy.”

“How about your ass? A nice big cock up your ass would feel good right about now, right?”

“Yes, in my ass,” Millicent whined. “Fuck my ass for me.”

“Maybe I’ll do both holes for you?”

“Yes, both. My pussy and my asshole. Fuck them both for me.”

Millicent was so aroused now she could hardly speak. I quickly skimmed off her wet panties and, with her hands still tied behind her, put her on the bed in a low crouch, with her head down and her lovely ass up. “Spread those legs,” I ordered. Millicent moved quickly to give me total access to her pussy and asshole.

Ordinarily it would have taken me thirty, forty minutes to get a second erection, but so arousing was Millicent’s transformation from aloof, self oriented know it all to submissive plaything that I was already hard again. Climbing onto the bed, I positioned myself between Millicent’s legs and started rubbing the head of my cock up and down her soaking slit. “Pl please don’t tease me,” she begged. “Stick it in me. I need it bad.”

Deliberately, teasingly, I fed Millicent my cock, giving her just an inch at a time until, finally, all seven inches were resting snugly in her pussy. Little grunts and gasps of pleasure burst from her throat as I started fucking her. With my hands on her hips, I pulled her back onto my hard cock, driving it deep inside her clasping love hole. Every so often I would place my hands on my hips and let her do all the work, taking delight in the way she drove her ass back and forth as she fucked herself on my cock.

After a few minutes, I took my cock out of her pussy and aimed it at her puckered asshole. “Is this where you want it?” I asked, and Millicent hissed, “Yesss…” A moment later I was pushing into her upturned bottom, relishing the heat and fit of her rear canal as my cock burrowed deeper and deeper.

When I was fully in her ass, I paused to bask in the glorious sight of Millicent in a servile crouch, her hands tied behind her back, my hard cock balls deep in her lovely behind. Then I started moving in her, slowly at first, and then, at her urging, faster and harder. Fists clenched, face flushed, Millicent came several times before I finally exploded in her ass, and when she felt my semen shooting into her rectum, she cried out and came yet again.

It was after we had showered together and while I was pouring us each a glass of wine in bed that Millicent gave me another surprise. “I wasn’t really sure about you,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t know if you’d bite or not.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, setting the bottle of wine down on her nightstand.

“You don’t really look like a take charge guy.”

“What are you talking about?”

The American princess smiled. “You fell for my act, Robert. Of course, my rip roaring bitch routine followed by my contrite routine usually does work.”

“You mean you set me up?” I was flabbergasted.

“Uh huh.”

I looked hard at Millicent, who was now grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You know you’re going to have to be punished for that, don’t you?”

“Really?” she said.

Mr. R.V., Ohio

JESSICA’S DEVOTION

Let me begin by stressing that my marriage is extremely happy. My wife and I share a union that one dreams about during childhood: full of romance, caring and affection. However, I would say that it differs from most modern marriages in that my wife, Jessica, is completely submissive to me, and that is the way we both like it.

I’m not talking about bondage or spanking. The submission that Jessica practices is simply her complete devotion to me, her unending quest to please as much as she can, in any way possible. If I desired to tie her up and spank her she would certainly agree to it, but I’m just not interested in that.

I first met Jessica several years ago. I am a professor of political science at a university here in California. Jessica was a secretary for the political science department. Younger than me by a decade and inexperienced in the ways of love, she developed a big crush on me and always endeavored to do extra things for me, like all my typing and such. I was amused by this attention but stressed to her that she was too young to be devoting herself to one man without experiencing life for herself. I urged her to finish her education and pursue her dreams.

Jessica graduated from college and eventually became an acclaimed author of many books. We had kept in touch, and we went out to celebrate the publication of her first book. I mentioned to her that she must be very happy her life was very fulfilled. She looked askance. “Not quite,” she said.

I asked her what else she needed. “I need you. I need to take care of you, to worship you. Without you I feel completely empty.”

Not long after that we were married, and the patterns of our everyday life emerged. Jessica is in charge of her career, but other than that, I have authority over every facet of our lives. I tell her how to dress, what to eat, what books to read and what movies to see. She does all the housework, and if I occasionally wash a dish or take out the garbage she pouts.

This total devotion also extends into our sexual lives. I prefer to keep her naked while she is in the house, though she can wear an apron while she is cooking or cleaning. We live in a secluded area, so we have no concern over a neighbor’s interference. This way she is always accessible to my needs. On many occasions she will be in the kitchen preparing dinner when I come up behind her, ready for action. She will bend over the sink or the table and I will drop my pants and sink my erection into her.

I remember one occasion in which Jessica was at the counter peeling potatoes or some other tuber when I took special note of her succulent ass, the way her legs sloped as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the gentle curve of the small of her back. A tent formed in my pants immediately, and I went to her. I laid my hand gently on her shoulder and pressed lightly, and Jessica, knowing what was to come, put down her paring knife and braced her hands on the countertop. She lowered herself, thrusting her ass out toward me. I unleashed my cock from its confines and rubbed it all over hr ass and vagina. She started moaning and begging me to fuck her.

“Yes, Daniel! Give it to me! Fuck me hard!” she cried. I started slowly, inching my cock into her pussy, teasing her with it. Then I worked up the pace until I was violently slamming into her, and it was all she could do to hold on. When I came I felt like I was the king of the jungle and Jessica was my slave girl.

I believe her favorite way of pleasing me is while I’m watching television in my favorite chair. She does a variety of things to get me aroused. She will lie on the rug at my feet, facing me, her legs spread wide, and masturbate for me to watch. Or she will kneel in a crouch and fuck herself with a dildo in her ass or pussy.

Then she will crawl in my lap and free my raging erection. For an hour or two she will simply worship my cock. She sucks, licks and massages it lovingly, taking time to pay attention to my balls. She has taught herself to be a skilled fellatrice, so I usually go out of my skull before I shoot gobs of come all over her face in fact, she sometimes orgasms just from that sensation.

Then we will adjourn to the bedroom, where she will give me a dynamite massage and tongue bathe my entire body, including sucking my toes. She tries her best to induce as many orgasms out of me as she can. I will fuck her with my mouth, her asshole and her pussy. She will then fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, a beam of happiness adorning her face.

Jessica’s behavior may not fall in line with the current feminism of this era. But I submit that our relationship has nothing to do with sexism, it has to do with two individuals fulfilling each other’s needs. Since we so ideally suit each other’s particular wants and desires, we are extremely happy together and will remain that way.

Mr. D.O., California