|The Loft: The creation of a latex slave|
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|Storycodes: MF; M/f; F/m; FM+/m; D/s; bond; cuffs; bdsm; spank; chast; toys; insert; tease; denial; nipple; latex; maid; cd; sub; hum; group; oral; sex; anal; cons; X||
|The Loft: The creation of a latex slave DMG MF; M/f; F/m; FM+/m; D/s; bond; cuffs; bdsm; spank; chast; toys; insert; tease; denial; nipple; latex; maid; cd; sub; hum; group; oral; sex; anal; cons; X|
I’ll keep the usual, obligatory preamble as brief as possible – the juicy bits of this retelling are coming but without the establishing shots, much of the deliciousness is lost.
I’ve been roommates with my friend Alyssa for just over three years now. We are both reasonably successful, driven, motivated and coincidentally both on the dominant end of the spectrum. The combination of circumstance, close friendship, and accidental discovery of a massively undervalued loft space in the exciting elbow of the city led to us entering into a co-habitational partnership.
As mentioned, we’re both Doms by inclination; but we both agree that the D/s spectrum is more of a Kinsey scale than an absolute ranking. (Not many people are 100% exclusively one or the other; the majority of people in the world lie somewhere along the nuanced gradient)
Over the last three years we’ve enjoyed an open and intimate relationship of convenience – the loft is big enough for the both of us to happily co-exist without stepping on each other’s toes, and we are quite respectful of the space when the other party is entertaining guests or subs. We’ve ‘customised’ the loft and fitted it out with functional ‘hidden’ enhancements – anchor points disguised as lighting, furniture with convenient sturdy rings, chests of quality gear, and even a ‘hidden compartment’ for the more extreme and kinky appliances.
The natural rhythms of life, love, and relationships have occasionally put us in each other’s arms; sometimes as equals, and sometimes one of the two lions playing lamb for the evening/weekend/week. Subbing to each other is a bit of a release, a vacation from our everyday selves, a chance to let go of the reins. The past 8 months or so has seen this aspect of our relationship take on a bit of a harder edge; we are still playful, loving, and generous with each other but an element of gamesmanship seems to have developed.
When one of us gives the signal that a scene or play session is on the cards, the other partner takes control of the definition, substance, and setting of the scenario – we are more than comfortable with each other’s limits and know where the grey areas are to push. What’s developed is a sort of natural ‘score keeping’ that we laugh and joke about together – how many orgasms, whip strokes, or hours of bondage; at what point mercy was given, what is in store the next time someone goes ‘under’. The last five months had been particularly active – she had just ended a long-term relationship with two of her regular submissives, who had decided to take a break from the scene, and intended on marrying each other to go start a family. Alyssa had been casting about, auditioning new bedroom partners, and hadn’t yet found anyone to measure up to her impossibly high standards. The drawn out process was fuelling an itch of hers, something that couldn’t be easily scratched.
This is where this particular tale begins – after the second session in a row of me submitting to Alyssa, I noticed a too-predatory glint in her eyes when she was recounting the scene and a little too much enthusiasm when describing what she planned to do ‘the next time’ she had me roped to the headboard. While refilling our post-session manhattans, I mentally tallied the running score – I had submitted to her six times in the last four months, to her two sub sessions under my hands. With this mini-revelation, I proceeded to gently probe and test her while plying her with drink. By the end of our evening, after we had retired to our separate rooms, I gazed up at the ceiling and realised that she was playing a longer game, driven by her boredom, that I hadn’t realised we were playing; she was working me! The game had started while I was busy with my face buried between her milky thighs, and I hadn’t been watching the board. I drifted off to sleep peacefully, knowing that now that I had removed the blindfold, I’d be well positioned to make the next moves of the game without losing any more ground.
It was a few days later that the solution hit me with a stinging blow, right between my shoulders. I was four games into a weekly seven game squash series with a professional acquaintance of mine. Donald was a well-rounded pleasant guy; we often grabbed a wet lunch, met for drinks after work, used the same gym, and played a very competitive running weekly match of squash. Today he was beating me, I was three games down and I was distracted. The problem of my next move with Alyssa had been plaguing me – I didn’t want to challenge her to a proper game in the same way I played squash with Donald. When Donald and I were on the court, we played all out – aiming for total destruction of the other player. It was only our evenly matched abilities and friendly comradery that allowed us to pick up the racquets each week and do battle without recrimination or lasting hard feelings. That was how it used to be with Alyssa – a brief match, with established rules; a beginning and an end and then a resumption of normal activity. But that had changed… and now I needed to figure out how to deal with it. I also didn’t care to admit to myself that in a direct, protracted challenge with Alyssa, I didn’t put my chances of ultimate victory very high.
THWACK! Right between the shoulders, a blistering shot that stung like a motherfucker. I turned in a rage not meant for Donald and glared at him with murder in my eyes.
“Whoa!” he said, both apologetically and defensively at the same time; his palms up and out in the international symbol of cessation of hostilities. “I’m sorry bro. You were a million miles away and I thought it might wake you up.”
In that instant, a moment I still sometimes reflect on, the searing welt in the centre of my back burning the flash of revelation into a lasting memory; it was a watershed moment that led to this tale of events.
“Girl trouble” I said angrily, “Who’s point is it?”
“Tell me about it,” Donald retorted, shaking his head ruefully, “My bad man. I feel you. I’ve been on a dry spell for a few weeks now.”
That was the moment, that instant when words and plans and thoughts and possibilities crashed through my head. I heard myself speaking the words before I’d given them proper thought. “Alyssa’s in the same boat as you then; she’s about to make my life difficult if I can’t find her someone to distract her…. Why don’t we meet up for dinner tonight? You free?”
We met at a chop house near our loft – ribs to die for, and a superbly stocked upper shelf at the bar. The meal was fantastic, and Alyssa was in her element. She’d dressed to kill that night, in a little black number that couldn’t seem to decide if it was a dress or if it was cling-film. The wait staff were fawning over her, and Donald was enraptured.
Her eyes sparkled with mirth at his jokes, and she was hanging on every word of his. He was flushed with his success and was in the most garrulous mood I’d ever seen from him before. I sat and spectated for the most part; agreeing with Alyssa here and there when she reached to me for validation about how wonderful Donald was, how great he looked in that jacket, or how witty he had been in the office when he had single-handedly saved an account from ruin in the client meeting.
Donald for his part, was loving the attention. Like I had been days before, he was blind to the moves she was making – he thought he was the one doing the hunting. I saw the occasional flash of intent, the subtle licking-of-lips, and the moves from Alyssa’s playbook that I knew so well. Little did Donald know that he was the prey.
After dinner, we all strolled back to the loft, Alyssa hanging off Donald’s arm, imploring him with doe-eyes to come up and fix her a nightcap or two. I rolled my eyes, laughing silently at how easy it was to spot her machinations when one wasn’t the target of them.
The two of them sat knee-to-knee on the lounger, whispering conspiratorially while I puttered and finished my last drink of the evening. Alyssa’s chiming laughter at the latest of Donald’s jokes whispered in her ear was my signal to exit the field of battle, and leave the victor to claim her spoils. I wished them both a good night, claimed an early meeting with feigned reluctance, and left the lioness to finish her hunt.
The next morning, as I was finishing my coffee, Donald and Alyssa exited her room, and she escorted him to the door. A goodbye kiss let me know that the huntress had claimed a new pelt that night, and the bounce in her step as she pranced away from the door let me know that she had only just begun her game.
I swished the last of my espresso in the cup and finished it. Alyssa sidled up beside me, still flushed from her evening/morning activities and grinned; looking as impish as I’d ever seen her. She planted a chaste kiss on my cheek, and whispered in my ear, “Thank you for that. It was just what I needed. He’s a gem. A little unpolished, but definitely some good working material.”
I chuckled, and turned to her and entreated her to be gentle, and not to break him.
“I won’t” she laughed over her shoulder, as she skipped off down the hall in her t-shirt, her lithe legs flashing. “At least, not yet anyway.”
The next week, Donald is positively glowing – he played a fantastic game of squash, and eked out a win in the last match. He had more energy than I’d seen in months. I congratulated him on the win as we headed to the showers. He regaled me with stories of him and Alyssa out on the town, and thanked me for the introduction, his only complaint being a sore-jaw from all the action he was getting. “We’re headed out to Charlie’s for drinks again tonight, do you want to come along?” I begged off, stifling a silent chuckle, knowing that I wouldn’t dare interfere with Alyssa’s hunting rituals.
It wasn’t until we actually hit the showers that I had to bite back a laugh; as he found his cubicle, I saw scratches and welts covering his back – one of the other gym members made a meowing noise as he ducked cluelessly into his shower stall.
That night, I was reading in bed when I heard them come crashing through the front door – drunk as all hell by the sound of it. A dropped glass, a muffled curse, and then snickering laughter as they cavorted down the hall to Alyssa’s room.
It didn’t take long before I was treated to a raucous audio display of carnality – Alyssa was a voice actress, preforming at her absolute best. She urged him on, she moaned in abandon, she cried out and begged him to ravish her; she knew how thin the bedroom walls were – this was a display, not a rutting session. She was giving me a progress report.
I laughed to myself for the second time that day, and tucked in some headphones to listen to something other than Donald’s ‘conquest’ of Alyssa. I wondered ruefully if he knew what he was getting into.
The next morning, I emerged from my room feeling well rested; woken to the ever-inviting smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Donald was there, with a towel around his waist, pouring two cups of coffee. Slightly bashful, he looked up at me, a ruffled and unkempt shadow of himself. “Want a cup?” he asked sheepishly, silently apologising for being half-naked in my home.
“Yes please!” He poured me a mug of black, and grinned at me, “Sorry for the noise last night” he said, going red in the face as he delivered his apology.
“What noise?” I asked, putting on a puzzled face, “I fell asleep early, and I sleep like a fucking rock!”
Relief flooded his face as he nodded, playing it as cool as he could while being nearly nude in my kitchen. “Good stuff then” he said as he handed my coffee, and picked up two mugs, “I’ll see you at the gym soon, I guess”
With that he turned and began walking back to Alyssa’s room; he seemed to be walking a little gingerly, spread legged like a cowboy. I nearly choked on my coffee when he turned the corner and I saw his back – criss-crossed with what could only be marks from Alyssa’s favoured riding crop.
It was a week later, at our next game of squash that I received my next update on Alyssa’s progress – we were in our first match of the series when I caught a muffled, but tell-tale sound; the slight rattling of plastic. It was emanating from Donald – more specifically, from his shorts.
As we played, I heard the subtle rattle again and again; I watched him ‘adjust’ for comfort more often than he should have. “Could it be?” I asked myself, “Three short weeks and she has him in her grip already?”
There was only one way to find out for sure; I began directing my returns to the corner, forcing the game into tight quarters. As I reached for a return, I angled my arm past his crotch and brushed him through his shorts. My wrist contacted with hard plastic; I pretended not to notice, and kept up the assault until he lost the point, and then the match – obviously shaken, he must have been worried that I’d noticed. He was wearing a chastity cage.
Following the match, Donald elected to skip his shower; stating that he had to run home to collect some paperwork before heading in to the office that day. He towelled down, and left the gym in his workout gear without changing. An emergency exit if I’d ever seen one.
The next week passed, and I didn’t see Donald at all; our weekly game came again, and he texted me to apologise, saying he was hung up with a project. I laughed to myself, and made a note to congratulate Alyssa on her swift progress.
A few days later, I passed Alyssa at the door – I hadn’t seen her in nearly a week as well. She was just about the leave when I got home from the office. I had intended on showering, changing, and heading out for a drink when we nearly collided in the loft’s front entrance.
She was positively glowing and had a visible bounce to her step. She was lugging a heavy-looking duffel that clinked and clanged, betraying that the contents were some rather serious gear. I stopped and took it all in; she preened for me – dressed in a scorching red leather miniskirt, with a semi-corset top and smooth stockings. The skirt wasn’t long enough to reach the tops of her stockings, showing just a peek of the garter straps beneath. She grabbed me by my lapels and rose to her toes, planting a tonguetastic kiss and purring like a jungle cat; sex was oozing from her every pore.
I offered to help her with the bag, but she declined; she shouldered the heavy sack, and blew me a kiss over her shoulder as she danced out of the loft.
The next week, squash was back on – there was definitely still a clinking noise emanating from Donald, but it was more muffled, and he seemed completely at ease, as though he’d forgotten he was wearing it.
We were deep into the fifth game of the match when I noticed an oddity about the sweat stains forming down the back of his gym shorts. The grey sweat short material was darkening with the rivulets of sweat that were running down his spine and under the waistband of his shorts. Nothing strange there; the oddity was in the pattern that was emerging – it seemed that whatever underwear he was wearing under his shorts was soaking up the sweat and then seeping through his gym shorts.
The shape of the stain gave the appearance of some distinctly feminine undergarments – the outline and darkening patches clearly showed that he was wearing panties underneath.
Not surprisingly, Donald elected to skip the showers again, and took off as soon as we were done the match.
Friday rolled around and Alyssa and I were having drinks in the loft – although she seemed relaxed, and sated, she had a mischievous grin that wouldn’t quit. She announced to me casually that she was taking an impromptu vacation next week, and would be travelling for two weeks. I asked where she was going and she gushed about this exclusive beauty spa retreat on the ocean; she was excited and looking forward to two weeks of pampering and having “every one of her whims fulfilled”.
When her day of departure rolled around, I gave her a lift to the airport and wished her well. It wasn’t until the next day that I connected the dots; I received an SMS from Donald explaining that he would be missing our squash match this week and next, as he had been called out of town for some urgent client business.
The afternoon of Alyssa’s return, I had left the office early intending to spend the rest of the day down at the beach myself; the weather was fine and it was a perfect day to skyve off and have some drinks in the sun.
I was preparing to go when Alyssa opened the front door and shouted, “Hi Honey, I’m hoooome!” She whirled into the loft wearing a near see-through sun dress. She pirouetted for me and pouted, asking me if I liked her tan, and in the same breath asking me if I’d like a drink. I abandoned my planned foray to the beach in favour of cocktails with The Madam, wondering about the details of her impromptu getaway.
She mixed me us both a whiskey sour and sashayed over to me seductively, sitting in my lap and then splaying herself across the sofa, lounging backwards; she still reeked of holiday, sun, and utter relaxation.
I pried for details about the trip, but I could tell she was avoiding direct answers to my questions; she extolled the virtues of the beauty treatments, the twice-daily massages, and mud baths, and the many, many shopping trips she had squeezed in. It wasn’t until our fifth cocktail that her mood shifted subtlety; still draped over my lap and the sofa, I watched her hand pull up the hem of her sun dress and start absent-mindedly tracing circles on her thigh. I was catching her up on some of the activities and news of our friends, and picked up immediately on the signals.
I placed my palm on the soft flesh above her knee, and began gently squeezing her thigh, slowly working up until my fingers were brushing hers. Our hands danced for a moment on her inner thigh and then she closed her eyes, trailed her hand up her torso, past her luscious breasts, up the side of her neck and then gripped the arm rest of the sofa behind her head. She did all this while stretching deeply, inhaling a great breath, and letting it out slowly with her eyes close and a half smile upon her lips.
Her legs spread ever-so-slightly, and with both her arms holding on to the sofa behind her, she uncoiled languidly like a cat stretching in a sunbeam. This was my permission and her way of enticing further touch.
I slowed my hand, and began tracing a slow path up and down the top of her thigh, drawing lines on her skin with my fingers, sliding them up her waist to her stomach, and then drifting them back down the other leg. Each pass of my hand lifted the hem of her dress a little higher until it was bunched around her waist. The side of my hand brushed across her mound, dancing over her panties, feeling the heat emanating from between her legs. My fingers feathered and played around the edges of her panties; skipping across the surface, and occasionally pressing into her ever-moistening cleft.
Her eyes stayed closed, but a flush rose in her cheeks, and her breathing picked up. She groaned slightly and lifted her hips higher, trying to increase the pressure and contact with my hand, her lips moist and shining in the afternoon sunlight. I gathered the front of her panties in one hand, as my other hand reached up to grab a handful of the hair that was cascading over the armrest, gripping both firmly, I bunched her panties and pulled upwards ever so slowly, drawing the fabric of her underwear together, up, and between the soft, juicy lips of her of outer folds.
She gasped and writhed at the pressure coming from both ends of her body, her head tugging away from my fist, increasing the pull on her hair. Her hips similarly dropped, leaning more of her weight onto the scrunched fabric boring up into her centre. She moaned a slow, guttural noise of frustration and pleasure; never moving her hands from the arm of the sofa, her knuckles whitening as her fingers sank deeper into the leather.
I released her panties, but kept my hold on her hair, and used my hand to turn her over in my lap, face down. Her hair twisted and bunched below my first, increasing my control. I dropped my fist over the arm of the sofa, forcing her to lean over the armrest and drop her head – her mouth opening and sucking on the armrest, her teeth sinking into the soft aromatic leather.
I started my game over from the beginning, squeezing the backs of her legs with more force, trailing my hand up and down her thighs as slowly as I could; he squirmed in pleasure and impatience, trying to goad me into making the next move. I barely resisted, and continued to circle my fingers closer and closer to the valley between her cheeks. She lewdly spread her legs wider, rising to her knees slightly without taking her waist off of my crotch. My slowly stiffening cock was trapped between us, and I luxuriated in the pressure as it hardened under her hips.
I dipped my fingers between her exposed cunt lips – pushing and prodding at the wadded panties trapped between her lips, spreading her, exposing her obscenity and betrayed her arousal. I blindly pinched for her clit underneath the panties, and could tell that I’d managed to nip it a few times – she pushed back into my hand and groaned again.
“You’re shameless” I laughed, as I continued to stroke her ass, her hips, her thighs. “What a display you’re giving. So naughty” This elicited another groan from her. I stopped my hand, cupping one of her deliciously rounded cheeks. “Naughty girls get spanked.”
My hand landed just as I spoke the words, giving her no time to prepare for the first blow. There was no loving warmup her; this was my turn to give her some signals – the direction I intended to take the rest of the evening, and it was her turn to decide if she would give her assent and submit.
I evened out the second blow, leaving splayed finger marks burning into her skin. I paused a moment and rubbed the emerging palm prints gently while I awaited her answer. She groaned again, this time as though she were giving up; she rose to her knees, pulling against her hair still gripped in my fist, and then dropped her chest to the arm rest; presenting her ass to me.
I laughed with pleasure as I began my crescendo of assault on her tantalisingly delicious ass cheeks – I watched and felt the heat build beneath her skin, I felt my arousal grow with the flush and redness that spread across her ass. The intensity of my spanking peaked, my hand stinging from the blows and I delivered one last hard slap to each rounded mound, now molten from the abuse.
I resumed a gentle, feathering stroking of her butt cheeks, soothing the sting from the surface of her skin, and rubbing the heat back in. My voice caught as I gave my first command of the evening, “Stand, and face the column; nose touching the wall.”
In one fluid, graceful movement, she poured herself out of my lap and crawled to the wall. She paused for a moment, sinking back on her haunches; her ass cheeks pressing against her heels; I could tell she was savouring the sensations. She then stood, clasped her hands to the small of her back, and pressed her nose against the column.
I did nothing for a long moment; her skirt had bunched up and twisted into the waistband of her panties. It revealed a stunning contrast of gently tanned skin and harshly treated buttocks – flaming red in protest of the vigorous spanking I had just administered. I adjusted my iron-hard cock to a more comfortable resting position and stood; moving slowly to stand behind her.
I leaned in and inhaled her sweet, delicate perfume that carried the punch of her dusky arousal underneath. I kissed her exposed neck as I slid the sun dress from her shoulders and tugged it to the ground. She did not step out of it; she knew better than to move without permission now that we had begun our game.
The nearby curtain hook provided my first tool of the evening. I grabbed the wide belt of fabric that held the curtains open and brought it to her eyes – I wrapped it around her head and tied it tightly – feeling the pressure as I knotted it, knowing that it would only increase her arousal.
For effect, I whispered in her ear, “Don’t move a muscle.” And I stepped back to admire the sight – this was the before; before the games really began. I savoured the moment as one savours the smell of a delicious meal placed on the table during dinner service. I was hungry.
I quickly mapped out the plot for my evening and moved to recessed bookshelves on the far wall. I knew she would hear the catch of the latch and the noise of the shelf sliding to the side as the hidden cabinet was revealed. This was where we stored our ‘heaviest’ gear – the kind of items that we didn’t just stash in the open toy chests or drawers around the loft.
I watched her reaction as I slid the shelves; even from the other side of the room I could see the frisson of emotion that was summoned by the sound; she knew the contents of this cupboard, and the last time it had been opened, she’d been using them on me, with little-to-no mercy. I glanced at the clock on the wall – it was a little past 5:30; it would not do to rush this – I intended to savour this little encounter, to turn the meal into a seven course banquet of carnality.
The first items I withdrew were the restraints – heavy, unforgiving leather cuffs with buckles that clinked ominously. Several lengths of rope were next, draped over my arm. I paused when selecting the next item – and settled on the most severe posture collar. I would need some more items from her wardrobe in her room for the next tableau; but for the interim, I grabbed the spreader bar with the dildo support and the shortest, widest horn-shaped dildo from the shelf – stylised on a rhino’s horn, the tip widened and flared dramatically to an impossibly wide base. She could hear my drawn out return to her, and shifted from one foot to the other – the eagerness and impatience flooding from her body language and imploring me to hurry it up.
I started with the collar, lifting her chin and drifting my fingers across her lips. She snaked out her tongue too late, and bit her bottom lip gently and I forced her head up. I wrapped the collar around her neck, as slowly as I could- letting her feel the sensation of the heavy leather settle around her neck. I lifted her hair out of the way and buckled the collar; intentionally pausing as she tested the give and accustomed herself to the stiff embrace of the merciless leather. Still holding up her hair with one hand, I reached for the collar’s buckle, and slipped it one notch tighter, taking it from a snug comfortable setting to a firm unforgiving grip around her neck; she froze as the latch clicked close on the collar waiting for an additional noise – I paused long enough to let her think it might not come, and then slipped the golden padlock through the bolt of the collar and clicked it home. This time, she shuddered with her full body, as she relaxed into the moment.
The wrist cuffs were next – heavy leather to match the collar, but lined with fleece to allow for comfort; and extended wear without chafing. Once placed on her wrists, I clipped them together to keep her hands on the small of her back. I knelt behind her, my face inches away from her flaming ass cheeks – I could feel the heat still radiating from her buttocks. I buckled one, then the other ankle cuff around her legs and slid my hands up the outside of calves, up her hips to grab the panties still furrowed between her cleft. I slowly slid them down, stretching them tight so that they scraped and pulled at her legs and I dropped them to her ankles. I tapped one foot, and then the other. She lifted each in succession as I slipped her panties from around her ankles.
I lifted them to my mouth, and bit them between my teeth, allowing the pure scent of her to envelope me and I reached for the spreader bar. I nudged her feet apart and clipped the bar in place and tied it off to the foot of the pillar; standing behind her, I pressed myself into her back – her fingers danced naughtily at my crotch, clutching and grasping for my cock through my pants. I took the panties from between my teeth and pushed the crotch of them into her mouth, draping them over her teeth and tongue, and letting them hang down the sides of her mouth. “Don’t drop them my pet” I whispered into her ear.
As I moved to step away, she clutched franticly for my cock with her hands, trying to keep me near her, trying to spur me into fucking her. I laughed, and swung my hips away from her, delivering a stinging swat to her tender backside. The ropes were next – I threaded them through the disguised anchor in the columns above where she stood, and let the ends trail down her shoulders. I unclipped her wrists from behind her, brought them above her head, and then clipped them together again. I threaded the ends of the rope through the D-rings on each cuff and tied them off with a quick-release knot. Then I slowly and steadily pulled the loose ends of the rope, drawing her bound hands higher and higher up the pillar in front of her.
I kept up the tension in the ropes, forcing her to the balls of her feet – her balance superb as she stretched up to meet the demands of my pulls. When I had her tight, her shoulders stretched but not strained, I tied off the other ends of the rope. I let her position sink in, let her test her range of movement and watched her try to seek a comfortable position to hold. I was not quite done, but stepped back for a moment to drink in the sight of her. She had turned her head as much as the collar allowed, and was resting her cheek against the pillar – the flush in her face was high and pronounced, nearly matching her ass. I left her a few moments longer before adding the final piece – I slotted the dildo stand through the spreader bar, resting the butt-end on the floor.
I mounted the rhino-horn well below her, fixing it firmly into place before extending the arm holding it. I slipped it up, up towards her visibly dripping slot and rubbed it back and forth across her lips, letting the tip slip in between the folds, and watching her try to grind down onto it taking note of the range of movement she was getting by straining on her shoulders and arms. I pushed it once, hard, deep into the core of her and held it there – watching the flare spread her lips and hole, watching her leg and thigh muscles tense and start to quiver. As she loosed a long moan and began to grind down on it, I lowered the arm away from her grasping, greedy little mouth.
I inched the arm up, ever so slowly, until the tip of the dildo was grazing her lips. She froze, waiting for the next thrust; but there was no second push of the toy into her hole. I fixed it in place, the tip just nudging at her entrance and then stepped back quickly to watch the dance begin.
She was already under strain holding the position on her toes – but I watched her experiment to see how much more give she could get, and watched her try to bore down on the immobile invader poised just below her core. As she flexed down, I watched the tip disappear into her cunt, watched it start to spread her again, but she could not get as far down the shaft as she wanted to – nowhere near the depth and stretch of that first thrust. She shook her head, groaned in frustration, and pulled at her wrist cuffs. She bent her knees, trying to increase the pressure and drive herself further onto the toy beneath her, the toy she knew was there.
I watched her for a few more moments, and then moved to her room to collect the items I’d need for the next stage of our evening.
I closed the door to Alyssa’s play-gear wardrobe and added the last item to the small collection on her bed. I stepped back a moment to visualise the accoutrements in their assembled form. A wide-strapped body harness jointed with convenient stainless steel D-rings in all the right places; a soft, buttery leather hood, rich and smooth with holes for her mouth and nose; a panel gag with a wide, fat protrusion that was grooved to match her teeth and a large-bore breathing tube; and a thickly layered pair of latex underwear with built-in dildos that were slightly too large in my opinion, but loved by their owner. I arranged the items on her dresser, dimmed the lights in her room, and moved back to the living room of the loft as silently as I could.
As I rounded the corner of the open-kitchen, I drank in the scene before me. Alyssa was covered in a thin sheen of sweat; even from across the room I could see her thighs trembling as she strained to both support her weight while attempting in a delicious display of futility, to thrust down onto the horn below her.
I approached her from behind and paused, allowing my presence to penetrate the fog she was in. She lifted herself back up to the balls of her feet, relieving the strain on her arms and shoulders, panting in frustration, her damp panties still clutched in her teeth.
I soothed her, gentling her as though she were a spooked filly. I rubbed from the small of her back up to her shoulders and moved my hands all the way up to the quick release knots I had tied to her cuffs. “Slowly” I reminded her as I took the upwards pressure off of her arms, supporting her around her waist with my other arm.
She groaned with a mixture of relief and satisfaction as she slowly sank down to plant her feet flat on the floor. Her body rippled as she sank down onto the horn, as it forced her hungry little mouth impossibly wide; she gyrated her hips in small circles, luxuriating in the freedom from her bonds and the final attainment of the penetration she had been thrusting towards for the last twenty minutes. Her hands drifted down her hips, beginning a quest towards her clit. I corrected her with a sharp spank to her ass; her hands whipped back to their proper place on the small of her back, where I clipped the cuffs back together.
I knelt behind her, and watched her bend at the knees to try to force more of the massively wide horn inside of her, grunting with approval as she crept closer to the edge of her orgasm. I waited a few more seconds, enjoying the close-up view of her lips splaying obscenely around the toy. As her gyrations escalated, I released the latch holding the arm of the horn, and slid it slowly down and away from her cunt. It slid from between her folds, glistening with her juices.
I discarded the spreader bar and toy and stood, taking hold of the ring on the front of her collar. I led her slowly away from the wall, watching to make sure she was ready to walk, and enjoying the muted protests issuing from her lips, still pressed around the crotch of her panties. I walked her down the hall to her bedroom and arranged her on her bed. A short break before the next phase of our session.
After removing the panties from her mouth I gave her a few sips of water; smoothing her hair away from her face, I stroked her body to calm her down and prepare her for what was next. I slipped the catch of her bra, and slid it off of her body, releasing her beautiful tits to the air and the ministrations of my questing hands. My hands rubbed the surfaces of her skin, enjoying the soft warmth of her body. It was time.
First the padlock and then the collar came off; it was set to one side as I picked up the hood. I held it under her nose, to let her take in the scent of the beautifully worked leather. The makeshift blindfold was next; I slipped that off of her head, and before she could adjust to the light, brought the hood to her face. I lined up the nose holes, pulled the hood tight around her head, arranging her hair to cascade backwards over her shoulders. I smoothed the wrinkles in the soft leather, and tugged it snugly around her head. The laces, once pulled tight, caused both sides of the hood to meet – custom made to fit her perfectly.
In her sitting position, I played my fingers over her leather-covered face, letting her feel the pressure of my hands. The collar was replaced, but I left it latched one notch looser than it had been before. Still holding her neck tightly in a strict grasp, but not as tight as to cause discomfort or to cause the lacing of the hood to dig uncomfortably into the back of her neck. The padlock was returned, and I watched once again the effect that the sound of the clicking lock had on her.
I positioned her on the edge of the bed and put her feet into the latex panties. A few generous dollops of lubricant from her nightstand applied to the intruders made them ready. I stood her up, and slid the latex panties up her legs, nestling the fat tips of the dildos against her holes, and pressing them home from below. Her body seemed to grasp the shafts and draw them up into her. I snapped the thick latex into position around her waist, rubbing my hands over the surfaces between her legs, pushing the shafts into her, and giving her a few seconds to adjust to the invaders.
Last to go on was the body harness. It was a superb piece of design; straps worked over her shoulders, criss-crossing around the front of her chest, above and below her breasts. A wide vertical strip of leather sat against her spine, reaching from neck to tailbone, and littered with D rings. Six small straps from each side of the spine piece wrapped around her midsection, threading through each other and creating a lattice that tightened with each pull of straps. Finally, two more thin leather straps went from the front of the harness, through her legs, and belted to the base of the spine piece. I pulled these up hard and tight, forcing the latex dildos deeper into her cunt and ass. The crotch straps had the delicious effect of spreading her ass cheeks slightly, making them seem tighter and more prominent.
Still standing, I took her wrist cuffs and attached small clips to each one. Then I lifted her wrists up her spine, hoisting her arms steadily upwards until I felt her reach the edge of discomfort; once I had the desired tension, I clipped her cuffs to the spine, achieving a near reverse-prayer position with her hands.
I grabbed the ring on the front of her collar, and led her over to the high-backed couch she kept in the corner of her room. I bent her over the armrest and kicked her feet apart. From her bedside table I selected a powerful battery-powered wand vibrator, turned it on, and then began brushing it over the bases of the dildos buried in her body. Back and forth I rubbed it, letting it rest on her clit for a while, watching her chest begin to heave and her hips begin to push back into the wand.
I brought her to the very edge of her first orgasm of the evening, and then abruptly shut the wand off. Giving her no time to adjust, I slashed down across her exposed ass cheeks with a crop. Two, three, and four strokes until she let out a scream. I rubbed her ass, watching it flower again into scarlet brilliance where the crop had landed. I flicked the switch on the wand again, replacing pain with pleasure; holding it in place until she started moaning and her legs began to shake. She was on the edge of the cliff, about to dive into orgasmic oblivion when I flicked the switch off again. The crop cracked across her cheeks, five more strokes until she let out another anguished cry of mercy. I clucked my tongue in mock reproach, and said, “If you can’t keep quiet my pet, I’m going to have to help.”
I pushed the large lump of the panel gag into her mouth, and set her teeth into the grooves. Her breathing picked up, slightly panicked; she knew we were about to get serious. I buckled it tightly, enjoying the sound of her breathing and panting through the gag. A muffled protest and groan greeted me as I flicked the switch on the wand and brought the buzzing head of the vibrator back to her clit. She bucked and spasmed, reaching the edge of orgasm almost immediately.
This time, I lashed her ten times, cracking the crop across her ass and varying the target and location of each hit. I was painting a ruby-red masterpiece of hatching on her buttocks. I did not stop for her screams this time, and soon the pitch of her protests changed. She had reached her comfort zone, her safe space. Now she began to waggle her hips with each stroke, both flinching at the strike and simultaneously inviting the next. I left the vibrator on and alternated a crop stroke with a brief press of the head of the wand into her cunt; on, off, on, off, on, off…. The pattern didn’t stop, I kept her dancing on the knife edge of a soul-shattering orgasm for nearly fifteen minutes.
Suddenly, and without warning, I stopped both, and stepped back. I had been watching her closely and had seen that she was not responding as eagerly to either the wand or the crop – she was deep into subspace and was leaving the moment. I granted her respite, and began to soothe her burning cheeks – they were hot to the touch, molten and fiery as I kneaded and stroked her sensitive skin. I unclipped her wrist cuffs from their highly clipped, near-prayer position and moved them to a more comfortable position at the small of her back.
Her breathing returned to normal, and I could see the calm set in upon her as she returned to the room. I stood her up carefully, and led her back to her bed. I laid her in a comfortable position on her side and gave her a few more sips of water.
She drifted for a few moments while I gathered up what I needed for the final part of our evening together and moved them to my bedroom.
I prepared to bring Alyssa to my bedroom to play out the last scene in our evening together; I planned to capitalise on her unfulfilled and ever-building horniness. I checked over the items on my dressing table; the final portion of the night would be long, and I wanted to ensure that I was not taking things too far or asking too much of her. I had a head harness with a comfortable panel muzzle/blindfold combo to replace the leather hood, and a moderately strict posture collar. There were a pair of rubber-tipped tweezer clamps connected by a short chain, and a soft leather arm-binder; the core elements of the bondage were the firm leather chastity belt with a built in butt-plug, and his box of Bluetooth benwa balls.
The benwa Balls were an amazing find that he had come across at the last tech sexpo I’d been to in Vegas. The balls were the standard steel design, with a high-tech upgrade. The core of the balls had Bluetooth sensors and controls; they could be controlled remotely, and could be linked to operate as a ‘hive mind’. In pairs on their own, they were deliciously deadly; operating as a ‘pack’, they turned into a tool of torture-by-pleasure.
I went back to Alyssa’s room to collect her, and received her signal to proceed loud and clear. She had moved herself off of the bed, and was kneeling beside her door. She wanted more.
I looped a finger through the ring of her collar, and brought her to her feet. I led her carefully back to my room and positioned her in the centre.
I began to remove the accoutrements of our last scene; everything but the leather hood. When I slipped the latex panties down her hips, the dildos slid from her holes and release a flood of juices from her pussy. I swiped my fingers through them and fed her my fingers, letting her suck them clean.
I took a moment to caress and fondle her naked body, my hands played up and down her body, tweaking her nipples, squeezing her breasts, and slipping into her warm and hungry cunt.
I reached for the arm binder, and slid it up her to her shoulders – I tightened the laces, wrapped the straps around her torso, and pulled the buckle around her elbows to its strictest settings welding her arms into a single unit. I left the posture collar and panel gag for last, and opened the box of benwa balls. A few taps on my smart-phone app confirmed they were fully charged, and I activated them one by one. I knew from past experience that Alyssa could comfortably fit four of the steel balls inside of her, five was a stretch, and six was impossible. I tapped the inside of her thighs to tell her to widen her stance.
Turning the first one to its lowest ‘rumble’ setting, I held the buzzing orb to the mouth of her cunt. I gently pressed the ball between the folds of her lips, and slid it up and down before bringing it back and slowly pressing it into her. It stretched her on its way in, and as it popped home, she groaned. The second ball followed, also set to a low rumble. As it popped into her cunt, I could feel the vibrations of the two steel balls bouncing off each other inside of her. I briefly swiped the intensity level of the balls up and down a few times between adding the third and fourth balls.
I paused a moment to let the balls start their work on her senses. I played with the intensity toggle some more, and brought Alyssa’s horniness levels back to a peak. I prepped the chastity belt and picked up the fifth and final ball. I pressed in inside her, and heard her moan and shift as she shifted around trying to get comfortable. I quickly passed the chastity belt through her legs and pressed the large plug into her ass. Given the fullness of her cunt, it was a bit of a struggle for her to accommodate all of the items packed into her body. I pulled the belt tight, making sure there was no way that anything would pop out and preventing her any way of grinding or stimulating her clit.
I kept the benwa balls on their low rumble setting and set to work removing her leather hood. As she blinked and adjusted to the cool air and light hitting her face, I stood face to face with her. She looked me in the eyes and bit her bottom lip and a wave of pleasure rolled up her body from the stimulation of the balls. There were sparks in her eyes as she parted her lips and licked them sensually. I leaned in and kissed her, pressing my lips to hers, let our tongues duel and dance. My hands reached down and cupped her ass, pulling her body into mine; her chest was heaving as she rode the stimulation of the balls; I could feel her cheeks clenching and she bore down on the large plug invading her ass as I squeezed it. Her hips ground into mine, and I could sense her frustration at not being able to press herself against my erection.
I stepped back and reached for the phone, setting the balls to escalating waves – they would work with each other while inside her – bouncing and slipping around each other, but coordinated by the control app on my phone – they would time their vibrations to escalate in concert, and ripple the vibration around her stretched cunt.
I was ready for my first indulgence of the evening. I told her to kneel, and opened the fly of my pants, presenting my cock for her. True to her experience and training, she did nothing without being told. “Lick” I said.
She began to run her tongue up and down my shaft, the tip danced under the head of my cock and swirled around the dome. She traced gentle lines up and down my pole, lapping gently at my balls, then moving back up to the top. I enjoyed the wet feathery caress for a few minutes, drawing out my pleasure. “Suck” I instructed.
Slowly, in a maddeningly deliberate fashion, she inched her face forward with the tip of my cock parting her lips. The head slipped into her mouth and she paused, letting me luxuriate in the wet heat of her mouth. Then she resumed, moving with the speed of molasses, pushing her face down my shaft. Her tongue wiggled and teased the underside of my prick and she descended. Her lack of speed in the movement drew out every sensation and made it feel like an infinite slide into the slick heat of her mouth. She reached the root of my cock, her nose pressed into my pubes, my dick buried in her throat and held it there – her swallowing motions alone could have brought me to completion, but I tapped her head once and she backed off to the tip. “Again” I said.
Several eternal minutes later, after a few repetitions of her engulfing my entire shaft I felt myself nearing the point of no return. It was slow and sensual, exactly the way I liked my blowjobs. “Stop.” I said, “Stand”
She mewed a little, obviously miffed that she would be denied a reward for her work. She had no idea. This entire evening was about denial; for both of us. For me, it was an exercise in self-control – could I spend the evening dominating this gorgeous woman without indulging my burning desire to fuck the ever-loving shit out of her? Or could I maintain complete control of both my and her pleasure?
She stood, looking at me while I was lost in thought and regaining my composure. A tiny quirk in the corner of her mouth let me know I’d been made, and that she knew she had nearly coerced me into caving to my primal needs. I smiled at her in acknowledgement and winked. The posture collar was next, I bucked it to grip her throat without being too harsh – a restrictive reminder that she was under my control.
A last kiss; this one slow and soft and gentle; then I reached for the panel gag and blindfold head harness, covering her swollen lips and hiding her electric eyes. Tightening the harness to my satisfaction, I led her to my bed and laid her down. I could sense the confusion in her – it was still early by our standards; why were we in bed?
She was still wearing the ankle cuffs from our first scene in the living room; I took a length of rope and tied them together, passing the rope up to the D-ring on the bottom of the arm binder. I pulled until her legs were forced up behind her what was effectively a hog-tie; moderately stressful on her legs and back. I clipped on the rubber coated nipple clamps, passing the chain that connected them through the loop on the front of her posture collar.
I picked up my phone, and played with the settings – random patterns, intervals, and intensities, set on a six hour timer; nothing above a level four to ensure there was no orgasm. Before laying down, I pulled the rope of her hog tie a little tighter, forcing her to arch backwards a little more, and causing the chain of her nipple clamps to pull her tits upwards. She groaned in protest as the first vibrations from the balls kicked in. I laid down beside her, absentmindedly stroking her body while I replayed the events of the evening. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke groggily, prodded from my slumber by a gentle nudging on my shoulder. I glanced quickly at my bedside clock – 5:30 AM. I looked over at Alyssa, she had maneuvered herself onto her other side, and had been facing me. She looked sweaty and dishevelled. Even as I regarded her, I saw her struggle with a low wave of pleasure. She implored me with her eyes, and a gentle shake of her head. She was conceding.
Choosing to be a magnanimous victor, I moved closer to her – stroking my hand up and down her body. Her nipples were the first to be freed; after releasing one from its tweezer, I took it in my mouth immediately to gently suckle it and help with the burning pain of the clamp coming off. She groaned and hissed as each tweezer came off, changing to a moan as I stimulated and soothed her tortured tits.
Next came her wrists, unbuckled from the small of her back. I helped her stretch her arms and relieve any tension caused by the bondage. The cuffs came off her arms and legs, the collar and panel gag from her head and neck. We kissed lazily and slowly for awhile, her hands were now free to roam my body in return. Her fingers pressing into my chest, pinching my nipples, stroking my hips. She threw one leg over mine and pressed the chastity belt into my hip, trying both to find some pleasure or stimulation and to remind me that she still wore it. I could feel the buzzing of the balls through the leather as her hips bucked in response to a fresh wave of stimulation.
The chastity belt came off, removing the plug from her ass took time. Her ass had settled tightly around the base, and did not appear to want to give up the intruder without some coaxing and a little more lube around the base. Lastly, I shut down the balls with a few taps on my phone. She pulled them out of her one by one without much ceremony, depositing them on the bedside table and running her hands over her cunt – still dripping wet. After a few sips of water she turned back to me and uttered her first words since the beginning of our scenes, “You absolute devil! I’m wrecked! I haven’t felt so exhausted and horny in ages.”
She stretched her entire body in a most feline manner, rolling back to fit herself into my side. Her hands danced to my semi-erect cock. “How can I ever thank you?” she asked me, as my cock sprang to attention beneath her ministrations.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something appropriate.” I said with a grin. Alyssa needed no further invitation and mounted me in a flash. My cock slid home without ceremony, thrusting deeply into her warm, wet cunt. She rode me with an urgency that displayed how built up her frustration was – it took no more than four or five thrusts down onto my prick for her to finally shudder clumsily into her the orgasm that had been denied her for the last several hours. As her muscles clamped down on my pole, I too let loose a thunderous blast and felt the floodgates open as I pumped rope after rope of cum into her. She collapsed on top of me, with my cock still buried inside her, her face nuzzled into the cleft of my collar, and we drifted off to sleep together in a lovers embrace.
I awoke a second time to sunlight streaming in through the bedroom curtains. My morning erection standing stiffly and urgently to attention, being lapped at by Alyssa as she watched me wake from the corner of her eye.
“Good morning, sleepy head!” She chuckled before engulfing my prick in warm wetness. A trail of saliva connected her lips and the tip of my cock as she pulled away. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up!” She kneeled above me, and positioned herself over top of me again. This time, the slide was much slower – a controlled descent of heat and wetness down the length of my shaft. We rode together and my awareness widened as I shook off the sleep; I could smell coffee. I could smell breakfast. Alyssa saw the awareness dawn upon me and what must have been a confused look as I tried to piece together the how and why. “Donald is cooking me breakfast.” She said between heaving gasps as she gyrated and ground herself down upon me. “If you’re a good stallion, I’ll even share with you.”
I began to lift my hips and push up into her down strokes, our pubic bones grinding against each other. She shuddered through a little orgasm, and double down; picking up the pace and the aggression.
We transitioned from a lazy morning fuck to a dawn rut. Both of us holding off as best we could. Our bodies crashed, mashed, slipped and gripped each other – our hands grasping on to arms, the sheets, our hair, the headboard. Alyssa turned up the vocals, putting on a display of her own and I assumed, sending a message of some sort to Donald. I cared not. I gripped her thighs, lifted her bodily off the bed while spearing her core with my cock, and flipped her onto her back. I could feel her tensing below me and I slammed into her. There was no romance, just an urgent need, a mutual race to the edge of the cliff. I buried my face in her hair and tried to fuck my way right through her. Hand in hand we leapt and crashed down; torrents of cum in strong blasts made my balls feel like they were turning inside out. She cried out, her fingers digging into my shoulder blades as she spasmed in the grip of her own orgasm.
We collapsed, heaving for breath, covered in sweat. A few minutes later, Alyssa had recovered. She was a picture of glowing aftermath. She swept her hair up into a pony tail and threw on one of my robes, “I’m famished.” She said, “Let’s see what Donald has made for me.”
We both sat on opposite sides of the breakfast bar surveying the spread that Donald had put together; coffee, fresh pastries from the bakery, eggs, bacon, sliced fruit. My mouth watered.
“Good morning” he said, “I hope you’re pleased with breakfast. Please let me know if they is anything else you would like.”
The tone of his voice made me look up, something was different in him. Something looked different too. I couldn’t put my finger on it. “This looks great Don” I said, pouring myself a coffee. I watched him, trying to evaluate what it was that had changed, as he laid a plate in front of Alyssa. He poured her coffee and served her a starter of fruit and pastry. After she nodded her approval, he returned to the open kitchen and began to tidy up. She had made some serious progress in only a few weeks.
He was utterly deferential to her, obsequious even. His mannerisms were fluid, carefully considered and alert. He kept an eye on Alyssa, watching for non-verbal cues; a coffee cup pushed slightly to the side was refilled. Her fork set down upon her plate was replaced with a fresh plate of eggs, bacon and toast. It was amazing to watch. She had trained him thoroughly already.
Even stranger, was his apparent lack of self-consciousness about serving her so openly in front of me. I knew from experience with my own rookie subs of the past that serving a master or mistress in front of people from your “real life” can be unnerving and can cause stumbles. He looked completely at ease though, and even refilled my own coffee without being asked. Then it hit me, the difference in appearance. He seemed… softer.
I looked closer, scrutinising him now with a practiced eye. His eyebrows were thinner, and shaped – his face smooth and bereft of any facial hair or stubble. His shirt was a size too small and his jeans were form-fitting. As he turned in the kitchen, his back to me while finishing and drying the dishes, I saw the tail of a pair of pink panties peeking above his waistband. I raised my eyebrow in amusement and glanced at Alyssa, she had been watching me study Don, and knew I’d seen it. She smiled wolfishly, and spoke directly to Don for the first time that morning.
“Don, my dear. Fix yourself some breakfast and come with me. You can finish cleaning the kitchen down later.” She winked at me as she left the table, sashaying in my robe down the hallway.
Don scraped the last of the eggs and bacon into a bowl and hurried after Alyssa – I noticed a pronounced waggle in his hips as he scuttled down the hall to her room.
I laughed quietly to myself and tuned my attention to the paper while I finished my coffee.
A few minutes later, I stood with the intention of starting my day and getting a few administrative tasks out of the way after a shower. I paused on the way into my room however, noticing that Alyssa’s door was wide open, another signal; this time for me.
I could hear her commanding him, telling him to eat if he wants his breakfast. She let out a moan and said, “Good boy.”
I tiptoed down the hall to her room and peeked around the door frame. Don was kneeling before Alyssa while she sat on her bed. His hands were tied behind his back, and his face was buried between her thighs. Wearing only a pair of panties, I could see the base of a plug stuck in his ass. Alyssa opened her eyes and smiled broadly at me, then closed her eyes and enjoyed the attentions from Don. I could see the bowl of food on the floor in the corner of the room, next to a bowl of water.
I realise that Alyssa hasn’t yet showered or used the bathroom, and what that meant that Don was really having for breakfast.
I gently shut the door, shaking my head and chuckling to myself.
The next weekend I had been out for a date with a cute little subbie who was looking for an evening of fun. We had planned to go out to dinner, get to know each other, and then head to the leather night at the fetish club a few blocks from the loft.
During the course of our dinner, I was fortunate. She revealed a nasty side of her personality after insulting our waiter for bringing her the wrong drink. It was a stroke of luck that she displayed such a deal-killing flaw in the first hour of our getting to know each other. I finished our round of drinks civilly informing her that I didn’t think we were going to work out. I spoke to the waiter on the way out, apologised, and left him a sizable gratuity.
I had a few more drinks at a favourite bar around the corner from home, and headed back much earlier than I had anticipated. As I was unlocking the front door I fumbled and dropped my keys. I heard a muffled curse from inside and the clacking of high heels on the floor.
I fished my keys off the floor and opened the door; I was greeted to the sight of a rather fetching maid retreating down the hall to Alyssa’s room – a short shirt, black heels, and fishnet stockings showing off a set of long legs. The evidence of an aborted tidying up effort after a play session was evident – there were ropes strewn over the back of the couch, Alyssa’s riding crop was sitting on the table, and a rather imposing strap-on was laying discarded on a towel by the couch. Measuring at what I guessed was an impressive 12 to 14 inches, and easily as thick around as my wrist I didn’t envy the poor sub who was on the receiving end of that tool!
I made myself a nightcap – a neat whiskey, and headed to my room to remove myself from the common area and give Alyssa her space. I paused before entering my room and realised that it was probably Don that I saw fleeing down the hallway.
I was treated to the sounds of a rather vengeful-sounding spanking session as I drifted off to sleep. Poor Donald.
As luck would have it, I had a client call for an out of town engagement the following week. It took two weeks to close out the project, but the client was happy and I flew home with another success. The flight back from the west coast was long and uneventful, but the business class service certainly made the trip bearable.
I entered the loft and dropped my carry-on bag by the door. Alyssa was lounging on the couch nursing a delicious looking cocktail and wearing a ravishing outfit. She was done up to the nines, far too overdressed for a simple night it.
She was wearing a sexy leather getup – some sort of body-suit/skirt combo with soft looking pleats. The top section of her outfit had built in laces up her torso, giving her a corset-like appearance and showing off her tiny waist while at the same time pushing her delectable tits up for display. She poured herself off the couch and stood to greet me, going up on the toes of her thigh high boots to give me a warm welcoming kiss.
We caught up on the last week and a half of my absence and she mixed me a drink. She was in similarly high spirits, and I wondered who or what I had to thank. She was positively buoyant; she put on some music and grabbed my hand, dancing with me in our living room. She was flirting heavily, hands playing across my chest, wrapping around me, kissing my neck. She pressed herself into me while we danced, and my cock stiffened in my pants in response. She laughed, a silvery tinkle of delight when she felt my hardness jut into her. In mock sympathy she reached down and cupped my manhood, stroking it gently through my pants. “Was it a long flight my dear?” she asked, with a devilish glint in her eyes.
“It was” I said, “Far too long!”
“We need more drinks!” she exclaimed, “Slave!” she cried out. From around the corner came a vision, clad head to toe in black, shiny latex, eyes cast down in deference. Calf-high patent leather boots over top of a black cat suit. Long legs, a corseted waist, and a beautifully large set of breasts gave way to a strict-looking neck corset, and full hood, leaving only mouth and eyes exposed. Scarlet red lips leapt out in stark contrast to the uniform black of the rest of the outfit.
“Fetch us another round of drinks, my pet.” Commanded Alyssa. The slave bowed, and moved to the bar to make the drinks while they resumed dancing. “What do you think of my new pet?” she asked.
I caught on immediately. This was Don; a completely transformed Don, but Don none-the-less. Alyssa saw me catch on and winked playfully.
“Who’s this?” I asked, feigning cluelessness. “What happened to Don?” I watched the slave stiffen and pause in mid-pour, listening for Alyssa’s response.
Alyssa laughed as she saw the same reaction from Don. “It wasn’t working out.” She said playfully. “He just wasn’t satisfying my urges, and changes needed to be made.”
We could both see Don flood with relief as he finished pouring the drinks, and I laughed at Alyssa’s word-play. Changes indeed.
As the Don returned with the drinks, he knelt beside Alyssa’s feet. I pretended to ignore the slave and continued our dancing. She continued to rub and tease my cock through my pants. “You must be terribly tense and pent up after your flight!” Alyssa suggested coyly. “Would you like some relief?” She slowly unzipped my fly, her hand snaking into my trousers. Her fingers sought out and gripped my raging hard cock, tugging and teasing it through my briefs.
She deftly worked it free, pulling it out of my open zipper and softly stroking up and down the shaft with her fingers. A tiny drop of precum glistened on the head of my cock; she swirled it around the tip and brought her finger to her lips and sucked it. “MMMmmm” she moaned, “You always taste so good.”
She brought her face to mine, and gave me a passionate, lingering kiss; her tongue flicking and dancing with mine. Alyssa broke the kiss and looked deep into my eyes; I could see the devilish glint in her eye as she issued her command. “Slave. Suck.”
There was a pause, a moment where nobody moved. This was new territory for all three of us. The moment lasted half an instant too long, and I saw a flicker of annoyance begin at the corner of her eyes, but before that flicker could grown, Don moved and slid his mouth over my cock. The warm heat of his mouth caused me to groan; hot and wet. Alyssa caught my groan with her mouth and ground her lips against mine. We kissed deeply, my hands moved up to cradle the back of her neck and her jaw; her hands dropped, one around my waist, and one moving to rest on top of Don’s head.
He began to work his mouth up and down my shaft while Alyssa and I continued to kiss. A flush rose in her cheeks as the powerful feelings of complete dominance washed over her. When Don had fully engulfed my cock, sliding the head to the back of his throat, she held him there, grinding his face into my crotch.
After a few seconds, she let go, and let him catch his breath; he resumed licking, sucking, and kissing my cock almost immediately; working it with a level of expertise I would not have guessed he possessed. It didn’t take long for my orgasm to build; the pressure rising from deep in my nuts to spurt from the head of my cock. Don sucked and swallowed, his mouth never leaving my dick as he drank my juices.
Without a word, he took a towlette from the couch, wiped my cock, kissed it, and tucked it back in my pants. Alyssa laughed approvingly and commanded him to her room to get ready for her.
She and I retired to the couch with our drinks and finished catching up. All the while, I watched her hands dance around her luscious tits, or dip under her skirt to give her clit a quick swipe of her fingers. We finished our drinks, and she rose up from the couch, planted a long wet kiss on my lips, and gracefully swished down the hall to claim her prize.
The next day I received a text after work from Alyssa, she was entertaining some guests and was giving me both a heads up, and an invitation to join them.
I arrived back at the loft to find a small party taking place – music and the smell of warm bodies greeted me at the door. I closed the front door and paused, taking in the scene.
Alyssa sat in a corner chair, in the lap of a large looking man, her legs thrown over the side of the chair while his hand was busy underneath her skirt. She had an arm around his neck, and a martini in her other hand, watching the scene before her.
A maid knelt on the coffee table, on all fours – her latex uniform gleaming and shining, the white frills of the cuffs and collar and blonde hair standing out in contrast against the jet black latex. The maid was earnestly servicing another man, with a long, thick cock that had to be close to ten inches, doing her best to deep throat the enourmous shaft. Another man stood behind her, and had just finished sliding a condom onto an equally impressive cock; he began applying some lube just as the maid paused and looked up at me.
The maid had one hand wrapped around the cock in front of him, and our eyes met; she knew she had been recognised. A moment of hesitation occurred briefly but disappeared as the man standing behind her lined up his cock and pressed it smoothly into her ass. Her eyes glazed over as the man slid the length of his dick into her; her mouth opened as her body received the big thick dick. She turned back to the cock in front of her and wrapped her lips around it again, working herself as far down the shaft as she could. The men laughed to each other, and began a rhythm of thrusting, pinning her between them.
Alyssa watched, enraptured by the sight – a flush rising in her cheeks as her whole body shuddered around the hand that was working her cunt. In the aftermath of her little orgasm, she looked over to me, with silent laughter in her eyes. She raised her glass to me in a toast, and mouthed “Thank You”.
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