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AMUSE-BOUCHES
Author’s Note
The three stories in this
Selection are written from the dominant’s point of view. Like my milder
Selection entitled ‘Hors d’Oeuvres’, I found these
three whilst tidying up my PC and decided to post rather than delete them. They
are not short stories but simply first chapters to novels. If there is
sufficient interest in any of them, I may write and post more parts.
The three little amuse-bouches that follow are:
‘Come screw over the
cuckold’s nest’ which is the start of a diarised account of the takeover of a
submissive married couple by a younger female (F/mf, slow, consensual).
‘Running through my mind’
introducing a male dominant mind-control story and, as such, it is non-consensual.
The start is quite mild, but could lead anywhere (M/f, mc).
‘A tray of Amuse-bouches’ was written before I embarked on After the Pestilence. It is non-consensual, quite extreme and inspired
by an idea of Llambik’s (M/mf, BDSM, nc).
“Submissive married m/f couple seek a Special Mistress or perhaps Dominant Couple. No single males please. We are looking for a LTR with the right person, maybe live-in 24/7. We are late-30s and would prefer somebody our age but younger is fine. Please get in touch.”
*** *** ***
Dear Diary,
I have never kept a diary before. Well, not since I was a girl and used to fill in the first week of January before I got bored or lost it ! But one day I would like you both to read this and know what was going on in my head at the time. In turn, I may have you two keep a diary too for my amusement ! My name is Millie and I have just responded to your advert. I am 22 years old and a totally genuine ‘Special Mistress’, although sadly without a lot of real experience (yet !). It is Saturday 21st July and, having made my decision, I can’t wait for your reply. I hope you are as real as I am. Fuck it’s hot, hot, hot. Time for a cold shower. xxx.
Oh boy ! So much has happened in the past 30 hours. Thanks to the wonders of technology. How did people cope in the old days with just ads in the back of magazines and maybe the occasional fetish club ?
You are real ! I have seen your photos and spoken to you both on the phone. This is going to work !! I can’t wait for tomorrow evening. In the meantime I should confess a few of my thoughts before it’s too late.
I am Millie Ratchet. A Student Nurse and, frankly, sick to the teeth of the long hours, low pay and filthy bedpans. I decided there must be a better way of making a living. And, when I thought about doing what I really enjoy, I thought about sex.
Not as a prostitute ! Or even professional domme work.
I thought about having one submissive, or even better a couple (mmm
… naughty, naughty) and being a ‘kept woman’. And that’s when I began reading
the online ads seriously. Mack’s in
Candy, one day when you read this, I want you to know how I felt seeing your photo and speaking to you that first time. I am not a lesbian. People might dispute that seeing as I’ve already had two girlfriends whilst at school and college. But I am genuinely not physically or emotionally attracted to women in any normal sense. My interest is strictly dominant. I love women licking my cunt because they do it better than men. I love them tonguing my anus likewise. But I have no interest in reciprocating (yuk), no desire to please them, except in the narrow sense of satisfying their masochistic needs. I am looking at your photo on my screen now, Candy, imagining you between my thighs as I type. You have a pretty face Candy. Those strawberry blonde locks and pale blue eyes and that impish smile. Oh it will be fun.
And Ellis ? What sort of name is that ? I’ve only had one sub boyfriend so far Ellis. There was a limit to what I could do to him because I was fond of him. But Ellis, you know what ? There is no limit to what I could do to a man I’m not fond of. Kinda handsome you may be, for a man your age, but good looks are not enough to guarantee mercy I’m afraid.
As I said to you on the phone, I’m coming to screw over your little nest !! Cum really will fly !! But not yours Ellis. Oh I know that hot talk excited you but just you wait. Reality will be soooo very different. So, that’s it. Time for a little tryst with my vibrator and then bed. Tomorrow is going to be a big day !
24th July
Forty four hours have passed. I am
writing this at the desk in your bedroom. Your ex-bedroom, the master suite you
have vacated for me ! Too much has happened since I
arrived for me to cover it in much detail. I left home yesterday morning. Said
goodbye to mum and told her some shit story about linking up with Mack in
But the best bit was making you both strip for me as soon as we got in the house. Just think, Candy, you were sixteen years old and already the proud owner of those big tits when I was only being born and now, here I am, 22 years later, bouncing them in my hands and tugging your nipples in your own kitchen. I loved your face when Ellis knelt and kissed my feet and then my buttocks up my skirt. Jealousy ? Of him ? Or of me ? I saw you looking enviously at my youth. Don’t worry, Candy, I have every intention of dieting and training you back to those days. And I have just the ‘moisturiser’ for those wrinkles that have just started to frame your pretty blue eyes.
In the meantime, you don’t know it yet, but I think I shall fuck that husband of yours. Just once, of course. Before I cage him up. I want you to know what it’s like to watch your spouse having sex with somebody else. After 12 years of fidelity, both of you are gradually moving towards the inevitable. Can you imagine how my pussy will feel to him ? Even with a condom. Young. New. Thrilling. You’ll see it on his face, the lust. And then you will kneel and drink his disgusting seed after its been emptied into a saucer. It will almost certainly be the only time I cuckold you with him. But you won’t know that. You will never be certain if and when you’ll be cuckolded again. Maybe I’ll let him have an affair with some neighbour in your village if there’s somebody desperate enough ?
It is now later, almost
27th July
Apologies, Diary, but I have been soooooo busy ! It is Friday afternoon. There is too much to tell again. Hopefully things will sort of fall into place as the weeks and months go by. Firstly, practicalities. We have agreed my deal. To the outside world I am just a niece come to lodge with her ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ while she studies nearby. We have put some of my stuff in the guest bedroom in case any nosey visitors come snooping. We go into town every Friday and Ellis withdraws two thousand in cash from his account for my weekly pay and more for the weekly housekeeping we need. He has plenty of money. Enough for five years plus at this rate but I have no desire to be greedy. Two grand is already about three times what I earned after tax as a nurse ! I wonder how much you’ll have left by the time you are reading this ?
And today was my first ‘pay day’ ! We went to Candy’s favourite store and I bought myself a gorgeous new dress, trendy jeans, several tops and some lacy lingerie that I always wanted but could never afford. Then in a novelty shop we bought a cheap PVC maid’s outfit for Candy out of the housekeeping money. It’s the type you see advertised in the back of Sunday magazines, a sort of fantasy ‘dressing up’ party outfit. That should keep us going until the huge package from the online sex store arrives ! The town itself is a good size. About 50,000 population. Enough bars and clubs to have a bit of fun. They’re one or two places that look like they may be fun for me to hang out in. And I spotted a couple of seedy dives that I’m looking forward to taking Candy to ! I’ve got so many ideas for your lovers. Best of all though, will be finding a guy you and Ellis already know. That will be a nice juicy affair for their friends to gossip about. How does it feel now looking back, knowing I had such plans right from the start of our time together ?
But enough of the practicalities. I spent Wednesday and Thursday busy introducing my two slaves to some of the new rules around the house. Do you remember how you felt ? In your own home. The first thing is that I like focusing on you one at a time. If I’m honest, I feel more powerful, more in control, with just one of you around. And your cellar makes a perfect dungeon, even without any special work done on it. With the handcuffs locking your wrists over the steel pipe and the makeshift leg spreader, you are helpless enough. A full 24 hours locked in dark silence down there, apart from the whirr of the boiler, gave you plenty of time to consider your predicament Ellis. And I am sure you had already realised that you would be the one to spend the most time down there, with sweat running down your naked body into your chastity cage. You are already learning to eat what you are given, when you are given it.
But Candy, you are suffering more in you own way, aren’t you ? It’s amazing how a woman as submissive and masochistic as you could still have so much pride and dignity to strip away. I don’t know yet, but I fear these early days could be special ones for us. I have to admit that when I caned you for the first time yesterday, I climaxed. That’s never happened to me before. An orgasm without any physical contact. Mmm ! It wasn’t only seeing those blazing stripes ruining your smooth backside and your winking anus stretched wide, it was smiling at your screwed up, tear stained eyes looking back up at me through your parted legs. But you will discover, my little candyfloss, that CP actually comes way down my list of priorities. Humiliation and nastiness are my weapons of choice, not pain and certainly not sadism. So, seeing as being spanked like a naughty girl is what you’re above all after, it’ll be like the old joke about the masochist and the sadist. The masochist goes “beat me, beat me !”. And the sadist waits a while, thinking, a sneer on her face, and then says cruelly “no !”. Hah, geddit ?
And by the way, as I’m writing this diary and looking out of the window, I can see the local carpenter attaching the new sign to the gate. Candy has asked him to change the name of your house from the mundane ‘The Gables’ to the rather more appropriate ‘The Nest’. Has a much nicer ring to it, don’t you think ? I wonder what the neighbours will think.
*** *** ***
Running through my mind
“Women are always running through my mind; they don’t dare walk.”
I watched them from my
window. Mr and Mrs Newly-wed.
I sat and sipped my coffee
as men unloaded the van with their possessions; wardrobe, chests, shelving
units, sofas, chairs, boxes and crates of books, china, cutlery, ornaments,
clothes. All the usual stuff that makes a home.
Home sweet home.
The morning sunlight
filtered through the big, overhanging tree opposite. In the heat haze, rays
seemed to splash off her blonde hair like butter.
Or maybe that should be
cream in a ‘facial’ movie ?
I smiled at her rushing
about after the men in their blue overalls, directing them here and there,
while her husband stood by with a clipboard ticking their possessions off like
some jobsworth customs inspector. Their double bed
was the last piece of furniture to be unloaded, in its separate pieces of
frame, headboard and finally the marital mattress.
Their house was number 14.
At least, legally, it was their house. But this is my street. I control the
minds of all the adult residents in every house of this otherwise typical
suburban avenue. And this pair will be no different. Their minds will soon be
mine too.
I won’t bore you with the
‘how’ or ‘history’. You’ve no doubt heard of this type of thing before. It
happened to me. A little over three years ago. It
happened overnight really, although it took me some time to master all the new
skills I’ve been endowed with.
All you need to know is that
I can ‘take over’ anybody’s brain, including memories, imagination and
willpower. I can take over fully or I can take over just enough to make them do
stuff, in spite of themselves. And I can leave them memories of what they have
done, or I can wipe recollection completely. And I can put people ‘on hold’,
where they basically act loosely according to my instructions without me having
to be in strict control all the time, although I need to revisit them for a few
minutes once a month in order to ‘top them up’, so to speak.
The only limits on my powers
seem to be quantity, distance and age. I can’t control more than about a
hundred people at any one time, even ‘on hold’. I can’t control people very
effectively when they are more than about 200 miles away. And I can’t control
young people. Anybody under early twenties seems immune to my powers. Shucks !
The next morning I watched
him climb into a small, shiny Beemer, dressed in his suit. She kissed him
goodbye through the car window. She was dressed in tracksuit pants and a
sweater, her blonde hair scrunched up in a bun. She was obviously prepared for
a hard day’s work in the house.
Most appropriate.
“Hallo.” I said, when she opened their door.
She held up her hand above
her eyes against the sunlight.
“I live opposite. Just wanted to say welcome. Need any help
?”
She looked at me. I stand 6’
3” and weigh 230 lbs. Muscle and a bit of excess, as befits a man my age.
People call me Big John after that song about the miner. I could see her
uncertainty.
“Hi … er,
thanks but everything’s fine.”
I looked back at her.
Shoulder length blonde hair. Blue eyes. Button nose. Pert mouth. A fine example of the northern European or Californian post
millennium young woman.
“Can I come in ?”
She hesitated. Then seemed to get over her nerves.
“Sure.”
I stepped into the front
room. It was in a state of organised chaos. The sofa and chairs were in place
but there was a big stack of cardboard crates against one wall. She shut the
door behind us.
I stepped into her head. It
too was in a state of organised chaos. Mixed emotions.
Appreciative of my gesture. Wondering if she should
offer me coffee. Worried about how much she had to do. Concerned about having a
stranger inside her home, even a new neighbour.
And she didn’t fancy me.
Nope, au contraire.
Ah, well … I smiled and made
myself at home.
“What’s your name ?” I
asked, sitting down in the best armchair.
“Candy” she replied, a
puzzled look on her face.
“Candy is dandy, but liquor
is quicker.” I joked. Oscar Wilde. Or was it Ogden Nash ?
“Candy, eh ? Pretty. Suits
you.” It rang a bell too. Maybe I’d got it in for Candys
at that time ? Somewhere along the line some real Candace, Candy or another
must have truly pissed me off !
“Thank you.” She stood
uncertainly in front of me.
“Top off, Candy.”
She stared at me, boggle
eyed, lip trembling. And then she slowly put her hands to the top of her
sweater and pulled it over her head and off her arms. She was wearing a white
sports bra. A working garment.
“That too.”
She unclipped the catch at
the back. Her tits were just as I like them.
Just a bit too large.
They looked great on her now
but would probably not stand the test of time and maternity unless she took
real good care of herself. Not that what she looked like ten years from now was
likely to concern me too much. The guy in the Beemer could have her back by
then.
“Now the trackpants.”
Her legs were long, straight
and toned.
“Lose the thong.”
She raised one leg and then
the other and thumbed the triangle of white cotton off, dropping it to the
floor. Her pussy hair was like fine straw.
“You make love last night
Candy ? To celebrate your new home ?”
She blushed. I was leaving
her well aware of what she was saying, doing and thinking, but without any
choice whether to obey me.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“You showered since ?”
“This morning.”
“Good.”
I stood up.
“Unzip me. And take my jeans
down.”
Her face scarlet, she got
down on her knees and undid my belt. Then she opened my top button and unzipped
me. I enjoyed her tugging down my jeans. There was a big bulge in my
yellow-stained Y-fronts.
“Now them. With your teeth.”
She carefully bit the
waistband and lowered my underpants, tugging them all the way down to where my
jeans had pooled round my ankles.
“You like oral, Candy ?
Giving, I mean.”
Her damp blue eyes looked up
at me.
“Truth.” I said, knowing the
answer but wanting to hear her vocalise it.
“No. Not really.”
I shrugged, grinning at her,
sitting back down in the armchair.
“Too bad.”
Her lips were open in a
heart shaped pout. She had small, very white, even teeth. I let her open wide
and take my helmet into her mouth.
“That’s it Candy.”
My eyes watched her work,
whilst my mind studied her brain. There is very little better than the first
few times. She kept thinking about her husband, when she wasn’t trying to blank
out thought altogether, and then she unavoidably returned to the slab of flesh
in her mouth. I scanned through her entire sexual history like flicking the
pages of a book.
I nipped back into my own
head and enjoyed visions of her running through my mind as she bobbed on my
cock. I could extract her memories and imagination and merge them with my own
sordid file of images. Naturally I gravitated towards my likes and her
dislikes.
Me and Candy would get along
just fine.
I helped her with a bit of
knowledge on how to control her gag reflex to make it better for me.
“Mmm
… that’s enough for the moment. Climb on, Candy.”
She rose off her knees and
sat astride me.
“Kiss me.”
My cock slipped between her
welcoming labs as my tongue burrowed between her lips.
I handled her fruit,
thumbing her nipples, holding her steady by the ribs.
“Bounce Candy.”
Anybody watching would have
thought she was having the best time. Her hips jerked in an unsteady rhythm and
her head flew from side to side, strands of blond hair catching in her open
mouth.
I didn’t hold back. As I
flooded her cunt I swamped her mind, sentencing her to never being able to
orgasm again with her husband. Except when he was tonguing her anus. From now
on that would be her idea of heaven.
Mmmm ….. yessssss.
1 – 0 to the good guys.
*** *** ***
A tray of Amuse-bouches
Inside the Eastern wing of
the vast State Police Headquarters was housed the infamous ‘Bureau for Missing
Persons’, or BUMP, to use its internal acronym.
It was a featureless
concrete block; a grim, grey warren of long corridors and endless staircases,
with checkpoints, surly guards and all-seeing closed circuit cameras at every
turn.
It was at the end of the
longest corridor that Colonel Max Payne, the BUMP Chief, sat and received
visits and pleas from distressed relatives. In the waiting room outside his
large office, people filled out forms and waited in long lines for an audience
with him. He watched them on a CCTV screen from the comfort of his leather
chair, before eventually telling his assistants which person he would deign to
see next.
One young woman’s husband
had simply disappeared almost a week ago. It was her fourth, frantic visit to
the Bureau. She had waited patiently for hours, sobbing and beseeching help
each time, handing in her forms and paying the necessary money.
Each of the three previous
times she had been sent home when the Bureau closed, with an assistant telling
her to arrive before dawn the next morning. The next day she had to fill in
another difficult, intimate and even more extensive form that required payment
of an even higher fee.
This time she made it into
his office in the late afternoon.
Max smiled straight at her
cleavage and adjusted his military suit trousers.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am.” He
apologised insincerely, shrugging, and gesturing at the bank of filing cabinets
that filled one entire wall of his office.
“Too may cases. You see,
many people disappear. Some are in unhappy marriages, some have racked up
debts, some simply wish to start a new life. My files are full of such people.
Unless you give me something to go on, I’m afraid that I must conclude that
your husband has done a runner.” He firmly closed the slim file on his desk.
Her doe-like brown eyes
gazed at him. She was a lovely woman, mid-twenties, oval face, shoulder length
brunette hair, full lips. She didn’t know it of course, but Max already had
several long shot and close up photos of her in the file. He had spotted her at
a café a few weeks earlier.
Her name was Lily.
“I have no more money.” She
said.
Max shrugged again. He knew
that perfectly well too. On his screen were her joint bank account details. He
had cleaned them out. Each visit she had paid an increasingly large amount
until there was nothing left.
“My resources are very
stretched.” He said. “Unless you can think of a way …”
He left the sentence
unfinished, glancing at the clock behind his desk meaningfully.
Lily had been warned by
others it might have to come to this.
She loosened the knot in her
blouse, baring more of her plump cleavage. Her body matched her face. Full
breasts, slim waist, flat stomach, good legs. The file said she was 5’ 7” tall
with a 22 inches waist and 34D tits.
Max ensured that the hidden
camera lenses recorded her blatantly offering to bribe a State Official with
sex.
He also turned the volume
switch ‘on’ to transmit the rest of the conversation to a listening pair of
headphones.
“Please, Sir …”
He frowned.
“What are you proposing ? Be
explicit.”
“I …I …” she stammered. “I
will p … pay you with my body, Sir, if you find my husband.”
Max laughed unkindly at her,
lounging back in his leather chair.
“You realise how often I am
made such offers ?” He looked at her now almost fully revealed tits. “What
makes you think you’re so special ?”
She cringed, flushing
beetroot with embarrassment.
“Please, Sir, I love him so
much … I will do whatever you ask if you find him.”
There was silence while she
sat there, blouse open, without a bra.
“I make no promises.” He
said, eventually, pushing back his leather chair on its wheels. “But maybe
something can be done.” He looked at his watch. “Get under my desk here. And
suck me off. Do you know how to make a man come with just your mouth ? Did you
do that for your husband ?”
Lily shook her head side to
side, shuffling sadly round the desk and kneeling slowly between his
outstretched legs.
He chuckled, unbuckling his
belt.
“You have half an hour to
make me come down your throat. No hands, lady. Just your lips and mouth,
understood ? Think you can do that ?”
He pulled down his trousers
and boxer shorts to reveal his cock.
“I … I’ll try, Sir.”
“You had better do better
than that.”
He pushed firmly on the back
of her hair until her lips touched his groin. When her head was down, he
adjusted the hidden cameras using the controls on his computer keyboard.
The screen was split into
quarters, showing the scene from four angles. He loved watching the action as
it happened; one ‘fish-eye’ camera showed a side-on view of his trousers round
his ankles with her head in profile moving in his lap.
“Remember”, he added,
leaning down to whisper in her ear, “you have just half an hour if you want the
search for your husband to continue another day. No hands and, by the way, you
swallow everything.”
Her warm lips felt great
around his thickening erection. Wet, soft and reluctant. He pushed his chair
forward, forcing her to shuffle backwards on her knees, until she was parked
under his desk. A camera hidden in the floor displayed a worm’s eye view of his
balls and her tits and neck.
Her head was now bobbing up
and down in a steady rhythm.
He pushed the buzzer on his
intercom.
An assistant answered.
“Colonel ?”
“I’m ready for number 7”.
There were no seats in his
waiting room. Each person stood under a number awaiting their turn. He called
them in, apparently at random.
He watched the man jump up,
brandishing his form.
Moments later the assistant
ushered him to Max’s office.
Max did not look up from his
papers, leaving the man standing there uncertainly. Eventually, after a whole
minute, he raised his head.
“Come forward.”
Max dismissed the male
assistant with a glance. The young officer knew the routine. He also knew that
the previous female visitor had to be under Max’s desk. He saluted and turned,
closing the door behind him.
Max held out his hand for
the form. He perused it for another two minutes, making the man stand in
silence.
“So,” Max said, reading the
man’s name from the form, “Mr … er … Clemence, your wife has run off ?”
“No,” Mr. Clemence protested. “She’s been kidnapped. I’m sure of it.”
Max pursed his lips and
tilted his head sideways to indicate his uncertainty.
“You have proof of this ?”
The man opened his palms.
“She just disappeared on her way to work. She wouldn’t do that. She has to have
been taken against her will.”
“Many men think like that.
While their wives are off fucking other men.” He glared at Mr. Clemence, daring him to object to the suggestion.
The poor man shook his head
fiercely. “No ! No, not her. I assure you.”
Max picked up the photo
clipped to the form.
“She is quite attractive,
your wife.”
“Yes … Sir.”
“You have been married … ten
months ?”
“Yes. Exactly ten months and
three days.”
“Was your wife a virgin when
you married ?”
The man blushed, mouth open.
“I repeat,” Max said, “was
she a virgin ?”
“No. We had … made love
together already.”
“And other men, previous
boyfriends ? The truth !”
The man’s face fell. “Two,
Sir.”
“So,” Max said, in his best
‘I-told-you-so’ tone of voice, “Mrs. Clemence likes
other men. Did you disappoint her in bed ?”
“No. Not at all.”
Max smiled at the man’s
raised voice and indignation.
“Maybe she did not …
disappear, at all.” He said. “Maybe you found out about her with another man ? Fucking
him ? Maybe you killed her in a fit of jealous rage ? Is her body buried round
the back of your house ?”
“No … please … Sir, she has
been kidnapped.”
Max pressed the intercom.
The assistant appeared.
“Arrest this man. Place him
in the holding cells and arrange for a squad to visit his house to search every
square inch.”
Three more soldiers arrived
to drag the struggling, shrieking man away.
“Take his place apart.” Max
shouted as his office emptied.
He pushed his seat back,
glancing down. He pulled his unwilling fellatrix’s
face up by her hair.
“Good.” He snarled. “But not
good enough.”
She whimpered as he pulled
her head back and extracted his slick shaft.
“Your oral skills need a lot
of work. So we’ll put the time it takes to find your husband to good use. You
can start by licking my arse.”
He slid down and forward in
his seat so that his hairy buttocks were available to her mouth. Big, fat,
silent tears slid down her cheeks.
“Unless you want to call the
search off ?”
“No …” she gushed, “… I’ll
do it.”
He nodded condescendingly
and let a long, quiet hiss of fetid wind escape from his bowel, polluting the
air all around them.
“There’s plenty more where
that came from.” He chuckled. “Now, get that tongue in there.”
He let his head fall back
and shut his eyes as he felt her wet tongue probing his anus. Damn it always
felt so good. His own dear wife drew the line at licking out his butt. That was
part of the reason he had to force other mens’ wives
to do it instead ! He smiled and pushed his hips so his rim enveloped her
tongue more closely.
Five minutes passed with
nothing but the sound of the clock ticking and slurping sounds from below. He
lazily watched the scene in the waiting room as frantic relatives stood and
waited, occasionally shifting from one foot to the other, eyeing each person
and the clock impatiently.
Max eventually shifted up in
his chair, holding her by the ear lobe.
“Hold your face still. Mouth
wide open.”
He stood up and stared down
at her. He began fisting his own cock so that the swollen crown bounced against
her lips and nose. It only took a minute or so. Just before he came, he checked
the picture on the screen. Perfect.
“Don’t move.” He grunted. “Mmm …nggghmmm….”
Thick, pearly white ropes
uncoiled over her face, spurting as far as her hair and forehead and down to
her open mouth and chin. He did his best to cover her, aiming right and left
and then pumping the residue over her flattened tongue. Not bad at all for a 44
years old ex-military bomb Commander, he thought proudly, as he surveyed the
splattered target-zone.
He slumped back into his
chair.
“Swallow it all.” He said,
using his forefinger in sweeping strokes to smear the excess fluid from all
over her face into her mouth.
She gulped, retched and
slowly swallowed it all down.
Max tugged on her nipples
and heavy breasts as she obeyed.
Finally, he smirked and made
a dismissive gesture to her face.
“That’s enough.” He said.
“For today. Be here at six o’clock tomorrow morning. Later, we’ll see if we can
find your husband.”
Slowly she rose, wiping the
slick residue with the back of her hand.
He watched her walking
towards the door.
“Oh,” he called out as she
left, “and shave that cunt of yours bald tonight.”
Max called an attendant to
dismiss the people from the waiting room for the night. He watched the screen
showing all the wailing and despair as they left, some of them having wasted
another entire day in line.
After all was quiet, he
poured himself a whisky and lit a cigar, before playing back the digital film
of his latest blowjob. He froze the screen at the moment when his creamy white
ropes had unravelled over her upturned face, painting it from forehead to chin,
catching the shock in her blinking, wide brown eyes.
He pressed a key and admired
the glossy 10” x 8” shot as it printed.
Max’s office was large, with
a wide window overlooking the paved courtyard on one side, a stone fireplace
and mantelpiece with bookshelves behind his desk, and a bank of metal cabinets
running the entire length of the wall opposite the window.
He released the master lock
on the filing cabinets and pulled out a drawer.
He smiled down at the man
inside. His eyes were screwed up against the sudden burst of light as the
drawer was opened.
Max surveyed him. The man
was totally naked except for a white towelling diaper. Steel rings tight around
his forehead, throat, biceps, chest, waist, upper thighs and ankles held him
completely motionless. There was a rubber ‘o’ ring gag between his lips holding
his mouth open and a pair of headphones fixed over his ears.
Lily’s husband stared up at
Max with undisguised hatred in his brown eyes.
Max chuckled, puffed on his
cigar and pressed ‘rewind’, then ‘play’, and the sound of an earlier
conversation was projected aloud into the area around the filing cabinet.
It was the man’s second
opportunity to hear his wife prostituting herself.
“Please, Sir …” Lily’s
voice.
“What are you proposing ? Be
explicit.” Max’s voice.
“I …I …I will p … pay you
with my body, Sir, if you find my husband.”
The sound of Max laughing
and the squeak of his leather chair.
“You realise how often I am
made such offers ? What makes you think you’re so special ?”
“Please, Sir, I love him so
much … I will do whatever you ask if you find him.”
“I make no promises. But
maybe something can be done.” A pause. “Get under my desk here. And suck me
off. Do you know how to make a man come with just your mouth ? Did you do that
for your husband ?”
Max pressed ‘pause’.
“She has much to learn.” He
said, looking down at the man. “But then … it may be a long time before we find
you. Don’t worry …”
Max held up the glossy 10 x
8 photo of the woman’s spunk covered face.
“… you will get to listen
to, and see images of, her training. We will show you a movie of her when the
action gets interesting enough. And, look on the bright side, assuming we find
you eventually, you will have a fully trained whore to return to spend the rest
of your days with !”
The man moaned through his
gag and moved his head fractionally from side to side.
Max propped the photo up on
the man’s legs against the cabinet. He pressed ‘fast forward’ and then ‘play’.
“I’m sure you’ll want to
hear this bit again !” he said.
There was silence, then just
the tiniest, wet slurping sounds.
Until eventually. “Hold your
face still. Mouth wide open.” Max’s voice.
A rustling noise followed by
… “Don’t move. Mmm …nghmmm….”
The unmistakable sounds of a
man enjoying his orgasm.
The squeak of a chair.
“Swallow it all.”
The equally unmistakeable
sounds of a woman retching and gulping.
Max grinned at him.
“Well, at least we know she
loves you. Though whether ….”
He unbuttoned the man’s
water-and-odour-proof adult diaper and lifted up the front to peek inside.
“… she loves you enough to
pass every test … well, that remains to be seen.”
Max screwed up his nose at the strong stench of urine and faeces. He closed up the diaper and patted it down.
“I think we can get a day or
two more use out of that, can’t we ? Now, you’re probably hungry and thirsty
but I don’t like that ‘pissed off’ expression on your face. So when I open this
drawer tomorrow morning I want to see a nice meek and welcoming grin on that
ugly mug of yours. Got that ? And then we can maybe find you something
to eat and drink.”
The man simply stared up sullenly at Max.
Max fiddled with the sound
system knobs. First he switched the speakers back onto ‘headphones’ and turned
up the volume. Then he set the tape to ‘continuous loop’ and smiled back down
at the man. He would spend the next twelve hours or so listening to a very loud
playback of Lily and Max having fun. At 20 minutes or so long, that would give
him about 36 opportunities to learn each line of dialogue, each grunt and
groan.
Max lowered the volume
momentarily.
“I expect you to be word
perfect in the morning !” he joked, lifting the photo and taking one last
approving look at it.
Then he slid the drawer shut
with a satisfying clunk.
He looked at the discreet
temperature dial on the outside of the drawer and turned it up, setting it to
30 degrees centigrade (86 Fahrenheit) and a whopping 95% humidity.
It wouldn’t do for the poor
lad to catch a chill overnight !
He took a sip of whisky,
puffed on his cigar and opened another drawer. A powerful, acrid odour of urine
wafted up into the air.
This one was female. Totally
naked, with steel rings around her forehead, throat, biceps, under her breasts,
thighs and ankles, fastening her motionless to the steel base of the drawer.
There was a wide, pink ‘o’ ring gag wedged between her snarling lips.
Mrs. Clemence
did not look as good as she had when they had kidnapped her that morning on her
way to work. Her blue eyes were red with endless crying, her pretty face was
puffed up and blotchy, her lips dry and cracked round the distorting gag. She
was lying, helpless in a pool of her own piss.
But Max knew she would scrub
up well. They always did.
Her trailed a finger over
each plump breast, thumbing her nipples.
He reached down and
scratched her triangle of pubic hair, then ran a fingernail between her labia.
Her eyes followed him.
He shrugged. “So, you were
not a virgin when you married ?”
She didn’t reply, didn’t
move a muscle, eyes sullen, staring.
Max blew on the tip of his
cigar and held the glowing end to her nipple.
She bucked away, or tried
to. Her face grimaced. She nodded her head the tiny fraction that the steel
band round her forehead allowed.
“Ten months married. You
must be eager for some new cock, eh ?”
She tried to shake her head and made a ‘mgmmh’ sound
through the gag.
Max chuckled.
“Don’t worry, my dear, soon
you will get a lot of cock. Enough to satisfy even the most wanton slut.”
He opened another drawer and
grinned at the tray displaying a fiendish assortment of implements; clips,
gags, hoods, rope, wire, needles, speculum, catheters, chastity devices,
razors, tweezers, and more. And a wide selection of dildoes
and vibrators. Ranging from quite small intruders to enormous, clearly
over-sized monsters.
Smiling, he lifted a plastic
sheet off a large dish of ‘amuse-bouches’ prepared by
his own chef.
The word means ‘amuse the
mouth’, although the selection didn’t look too funny to him. Anyway, he
preferred the more traditional French ‘amuse-gueules’
meaning ‘amuse the throat’. It suggested an altogether more intense, deep-down
dining experience.
There was a white saucer
squirming with fat slugs. Another full of writhing worms. A bowl of thick ‘melt
in the mouth’ semen that he knew would be fresh from the bull farm. Some small
‘chipolata sausages’ that were shiny skin stuffed with Max’s very own ‘filling’
from that morning. A plate of slimy red entrails. And, his own favourite, a jar
of cockroaches. All these and other delicacies.
Max picked up a pair of chop
sticks and selected one of the pale, plump slugs. He held it poised over Mrs. Clemence’s pink ‘o’ ring gag.
He could see her larynx and
defenceless mouth with the lingual depressor securing her tongue out of the
way. Her blue eyes had focused on the wriggling morsel inches above her face.
“Mmmm
…” Max smacked his lips.
Her eyes darted to and fro.
She was clearly trying to say something.
“Think nothing of it.” He
said. “It’s dinner time ! Prepare for your taste buds to be amused.”
With that, he dropped the slug into the back of Candy Clemence’s mouth.
THE END OF A SELECTION OF
AMUSE-BOUCHES
*** *** ***
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