Priceless

Priceless

by Velvetglove

Part Four

I am a stickler for great blowjobs.

I was 15, the first time a chick took me in her mouth. She was 17, hot and wild. More to the point, she knew how to give head. Fortunately for me - but perhaps unfortunately for those who’ve followed her - she set the bar at a very high standard, right from the start.

“Trill it round your tongue.”

I studied Sally’s face as she gawped up at me with my jizz coating her tongue, gums and palate. It was a decent load, thick with the tang of spice and onion, and a whiff of bleach.

Naturally, most girlfriends aren’t receptive to the idea of gargling, even if they’re swallowers. I mean, Jan’s typical. She claims to enjoy oral. But the reality is that she’s only prepared to do it on her terms.

But Sally is going to learn to do it exactly on my terms. And I like to watch a woman gargling my semen as if it were the best tasting mint mouthwash.

It had taken her thirteen minutes of hard oral labour to get me off. No hands, just jaw-aching work, slurping her lips and wrapping her tongue round my cock. I just sat on the pan and enjoyed the view, the stink of my excrement gradually fading as it wafted out through the bathroom door.

I now watched her with her head tilted back, warbling my gunk round the roof of her mouth, making a gurgling hum. I could imagine the lumpy texture slowly blending with her saliva into a soupy mouthful.

“Okay. Down the hatch.”

She gulped and made a face. Then she looked at me for approval.

“Tonight, I want you to write me a list of twenty things my jizz reminds you of; flavours, textures, tastes, scents, images. Pretend you’re a wine expert and it’s a top vintage.”

She gave an almost imperceptible, disapproving shake of her head.

But then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Then copy the list out fifty times.”

She ground her teeth, eyes flashing in annoyance directly at mine.

“Make that a hundred times.”

It was a battle of wills she couldn’t win. Her shoulders slumped.

“Yes, Sir.”

“A hundred and fifty.”

She looked indignant again but bit her tongue.

“Yes, Sir.”

I smirked. “Don’t think you can control me simply by being meek and contrite after you’ve shown impertinence. You will write that list out two hundred times tonight and then hand deliver it through my letter box before you go into your job tomorrow. Is that totally clear ?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I looked over at the toilet roll. I figured she’d learned enough for now.

“Get out of here while I wipe my ass.”

She spent the next three hours finishing tidying the other rooms, vacuuming, scrubbing, polishing. Then she made my lunch. I let her eat an undressed and unseasoned salad while I tucked into a nice BLT.

“Sally.” I said. “Some good is going to come out of all this I assure you. And not just the illicit excitement of masochistic sex. I’m going to make you a better woman.”

She chewed on her bland lettuce leaf, listening to me.

“For one, you’re going to lose weight and take more exercise. I’m going to set you targets. And you, I promise you, are going to meet them. Men are going to fancy you, Sal. Loads of men. And you are going to enjoy many male loads.”

“Pl … please.” She stammered. “I’ve said this before. I’ll do what you want. But not a lot of strangers. At least spare me that. You can’t …”

“Don’t ever use that word, Sally. Never … ‘can’t’. You see, I can.”

“Not if it’s something even worse than that film being sent to my family, you can’t.”

She was right. But I ignored her comment for now.

“Oh I see. You’d rather mummy and daddy see you drink piss, huh ? Rather than get fucked by six nice, discreet men one afternoon, using condoms ?”

She ate a slice of cucumber, thinking about what I’d said.

“Six ?”

I smiled. “Not necessarily. But now we’re just haggling. The point is, Sally, just tell me whenever you’ve had enough, and I’ll send all the emails. You must realise, I don’t care either way. I’d get just as much amusement from fucking your life as I do from fucking you.”

“What about the blackmail ? That watch you’ve bought with our money ? We can go to the police.”

I sighed, glancing at the time. Just to let her know I found negotiation dull.

“Take a look at the emails, Sal. Read the small print. You consented to all this, including what you now might want to call blackmail. Besides, it’s all cash. You can’t prove any money actually changed hands.”

She gave up, sensing my annoyance.

“Get on and clear the plates.”

I watched her washing the dishes and mulled things over.

She was right. I needed some stronger material.

Fortunately, I already had a plan.

But first I owed her thirteen strokes of the cane.

I tied her over my square kitchen table. I had her bent over one of the four corners so the table was shaped like a diamond beneath her. Her arms were stretched and tied to the furthest table leg, while her ankles were roped apart to the legs on each side. The other table leg was directly beneath her with the pointed edge of the table wedged between her thighs.

“Look straight at the camera and smile.”

I adjusted the focus on the lens so it was sharp on her face. A second camera filmed her butt and my brand new, third camera took in the ‘overall scene’.

“Say, please gag me, to the camera.”

She dry-swallowed nervously. “Please gag me.”

I obliged, with the dirty, damp dishcloth she’d used for washing up, sealed by a strip of electrical tape. Then I took up my position, checking I wasn’t in the way of the lens. I wanted the edited film from here on to concentrate mainly on her sweet ass cheeks.

Without warning, I blazed the cane across her white globes.

The gag was a good idea. Her howl would have brought the neighbours running. It was the first time in her 33 years she’d ever been hit. I admired her buttocks clenching and unclenching as she wriggled in her bonds, mewling into the soggy dishcloth. The way she was tied astride the corner of the table stretched her bottom wide apart so that I could see her anus winking.

I walked all the way around the table, watching her, taking my time.

Again, without a pause, I slashed the second cut into her quivering flesh.

She let out a strangled ‘mmmmmffff’, turning her head towards me, eyes wide and already watering with tears. A delicious second tramline was seared across her rump. Her ankles strained futilely against her tight bonds.

I laid my fingers over the crimson and white stripes. She winced at my touch. Her flesh was hot. I slid my index finger down between her legs and probed her labia. She wriggled as I pushed it inside her.

“Your cunt gives you away Sally. You’re dripping.”

She mewled into the gag indignantly.

She wasn’t dripping, but she was moist enough for me to pretend otherwise. I let my thumb tease her anal rosebud.

“I want you to remember this caning, Sal. So you learn that punishments are best avoided. Do exactly as I say and you won’t suffer too much.”

She twisted her neck round, eyes pleading with me for mercy.

“Only eleven more, my dear.”

I could read the conflict in her eyes. At one level she obviously did want me to stop. Yet there was a new respect for me too. All her life she’d been in control, ultimately, due to her gender, her looks, her sex. Even now, she had forfeited equality but still expected mercy.

I stood well back and swung again, even harder than the first two.

After I’d given her seven strokes, I broke for a beer. I told her my arm needed a rest and cracked open a can from the fridge.

Of course, the real reason for a break was to allow her adrenaline and natural pain suppressors to disperse. Part Two would be a lot worse if it followed a half time interval.

I sat in a chair facing Sally’s red-eyed and bloated face, swigging on my can, and phoned Jan.

“Hi, love. Can you talk ?”

She replied only for thirty seconds. She was on the ward. She asked me what I was doing.

“Oh, this and that. I’ve given the place a good tidy up.”

Jan congratulated me. She doesn’t usually stay over during the week, just weekends.

“I miss you.” I said, blowing a kiss down the line, staring straight into Sally’s hazel coloured eyes.

“Bye.”

I smiled, putting the phone down. “Jan is your Mistress.” I said to Sally. “Although she doesn’t know it yet.”

I idly picked up Sally’s expensive looking trackpants from the floor; DKNY.

“You can check Jan’s sizes from the clothes and shoes she’s left here. I know she takes a 34B bra. You’re going to buy my girlfriend a few things. Tops, short skirts, sexy lingerie, heels. I want to be able to give them to her as presents this weekend.”

Sally was bug-eyed.

“Go to all your own favourite stores. I want Jan to enjoy the same labels as you from now on, despite her meagre nurse’s salary. And don’t worry about the expense. Because, you see, from today you’re only going to shop for yourself at thrift and charity shops, and you’ll get your cheap bedroom underwear at sex shops.”

I could see Sally squirming with shameful acceptance.

“Got that ? Good girl.”

I belched as the beer repeated on me.

“I guess it’s time for round two, huh ?”

I showed her the cane close up, dangling it in front of her eyes. It’s one of those crook handled, rattan ones, like an old school bamboo.

“Mmwwh …” she shook her head, trying to beg into the gag.

To no avail. Spare the rod and spoil the girl. I walked round behind her and took in the view. Her bottom was a glorious sight. The skin shone bright crimson all across both globes and on the tops of her legs. There were raised welts that were a darker, mottled hue. There was no blood except for a small x where the skin had broken at a point that two strokes had crossed over. A couple of tiny drops of dried blood speckled the scene.

In the centre, her cleft was still white and unmarked. Her anal opening cried out for some attention.

I went to the fridge and took out the little surprise I’d prepared for her several days earlier; a nicely matured ginger root, cut in the shape of a butt plug. I had steeped it in a blend of Tabasco and lemon juice inside a plastic bag. I undid it and pushed it into Sally’s rectum without warning.

Oh boy. It took a few seconds. She didn’t have a clue what it was. But pretty soon it started to burn inside her. Her thighs, ankles, wrists and head wriggled and shook as she strained for escape from the torment.

“It’s called figging.” I told her. “You can clench your ass cheeks but it will burn more. Or you can relax them, but then the cane will hurt more instead. Your choice, doll.”

I steadied myself, raised the cane, and gave her the eighth stroke.

Her quandary seemed to cause her a great deal of distress.

She was now crying tears of pain, frustration and shame. I could see her anal orifice rippling as it tried to eject the burning plug to no avail. Her buttocks were unclenched and spread as best she could manage.

I gave her number nine on the upstroke, smacking into the meat of her lower butt. The cane made a shrill cracking sound like felling a tree.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

I took another walk round her, reluctant to finish. I checked the cameras. I wasn’t going to post much, if anything, of this scene, but it would be fun to watch on my own. Maybe show it to some friends.

I knew she was equally desperate for the end. She managed to blink back the tears enough to look at me, imploring me for the final stroke.

Be careful what you wish for, Sally.

I made sure her number thirteen was particularly unlucky.

At eight thirty that evening, I showed Sally out via by my backdoor. She had recovered from her ordeal pretty well. After spending an hour tied to the table with the ginger slowly losing its potency, I allowed her to take a long shower, and then put several creams on her butt; anti-inflammatory, anti-bruising, emollient. Best of all I gave her two climaxes with the big vibrator she’d brought.

It was the second time I saw that potent cocktail of worship and fear in her eyes. Slaves respond strongly to a cycle of mistreatment and kindness and Sally was no different from any other member of the small group of women who’d been my bdsm partners.

“Don’t forget your task tonight.” I said, kissing her softly.

She shook her head. “I won’t.”

“You can go to work as usual tomorrow. Do you enjoy your job ?”

She frowned. “Sure.”

“Okay. And remember to buy Jan some stuff. I’ll be in touch soon.”

She brightened. “Bye … Master.”

I waved as she walked to her car. “Bye slave.”

The moment she’d gone, I called Gordon’s cell.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Sir. I’m outside.”

I knew he’d been waiting out front at least half an hour.

I walked through the house to my front door and opened it.

“Evening Gordon. Come on in.”

He was carrying a briefcase and a shopping bag. He stood in the hall.

“Take all your clothes off there. Then come in the living room.”

I didn’t wait to watch him strip off. I walked through to the next room, sat down and sipped my wine. He appeared a minute or so later.

He was buck naked except for the chastity tube round his dick.

“What you got for me, Gordy boy ?”

He held out the bag and a manila envelope.

“Good lad.” I peered in the bag at my new i-phone. That could wait.

The manila envelope contained all Gordon’s financial data. I’d convinced him it was just so that I could be certain what they could afford. He was actually reassured that I only wanted to take a modest share.

They had a house with a market value of £750,000 and a mortgage of £250,000, so half a million of free equity. But evidently Gordon didn’t consider that value as ‘part of the game’.

They had around £100,000 of hard-to-touch pension plans but another £60,000 of easy-access equity and bond investments. Then there were the two cars and all their possessions. On the debit side were just a couple of credit cards with small balances.

I whistled. Salary-wise, Gordon made a basic of £75,000 but he’d earned the same again in annual bonuses in each of the past three years.

There was clearly no financial need for Sally to work part-time.

“This everything ?” I asked, staring at him. He looked silly in the nude.

“The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“You’re a rich guy, Gordon.”

He held up his palms. “No way. But we’re comfortable.”

I smiled. “What’s it worth, Gordon ?”

He grinned back, gaining confidence. “Look, I’ve thought about this. For as long as our … arrangement goes on, I think it’s fair to pay you four hundred pounds a month. That’s a hundred quid a week.”

I nodded appreciatively. “Very generous.”

“We’ll call it blackmail of course. In the game. But I see it as a fee. I mean, I know you’re going a bit quick and that, but it’s … exciting.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

He looked concerned. “What is it ? The amount ?”

“No. The amount’s fine. But it’s not like it’s real blackmail, is it ? I mean, we all know that I wouldn’t actually post that stuff. And besides, it’s not really much of a hold over you. Not like something serious.”

“I don’t know. Some of those clips would be highly embarrassing.”

I shrugged again. “No. It doesn’t feel right to me.” I let my body language speak loudly. He thought I was going to pull the plug on our fun.

“What do you … have in mind ?”

“Oh I don’t know. I haven’t thought. Something financial, I guess.”

“Financial ?”

“Yeah, you know. Fraud. Or theft. You work in accounting don’t you ?”

“Yes, but …”

“Fancy a beer ? Or glass of wine ?” I patted the seat opposite me as a gesture for him to sit down. I switched out of Master-mode completely. He looked perplexed, perching naked on the edge of his chair.

“Er … no thanks. Look. I could maybe think of something.”

I refilled my own glass, letting his words hang in the tense silence.

“Well, perhaps. It would have to be a hold over Sally too.”

He paused. “… I see.”

“It won’t work if it’s just blackmailing you.”

“No. But she mightn’t go for it.” He said.

“Maybe she needn’t know. You could implicate her without telling her. Then she’d only have to be told if it was necessary. I’d know and that would be enough to make it feel real to me.”

There was a long silence.

“Er, could I have that glass of wine, after all ?”

“Sure.” I grinned, getting up to pour him one.

“I could probably think of something.”

I handed him his drink and sat back down opposite him.

“Nothing huge, mind you. But a crime. Worthy of a prison sentence. That’s something that I would feel merited real blackmail, huh ?”

I raised my glass. He slowly lifted his own.

“Wow.” He said sheepishly. “This could really be quite something.”

I pulled the key to his CB device out of my pocket.

“I think your idea deserves a kind of … celebration, don’t you ?”

His eyes seemed hypnotised by the swaying key.

“I would really appreciate that.”

I gave him the illusion of control. “Tell me, Gordon. I don’t want to go too far. Do you just want to have the key and masturbate yourself ? Or do you want me to make you earn it ?”

He blushed. “I … would like to be made to … earn it.”

Oh Gordon. You really are fucked.

*** *** ***

I was back at work the next morning at 10.00.

Sally had posted her homework through my letterbox. I flicked through it and smiled. There was a yellow post it attached with an ‘x’. A kiss !

Come to think of it, they were both really fucked.

I had given Gordon the same thrashing as Sally got. Thirteen strokes over the table and used the same fig up his ass. Both of them would have to be careful sitting down for several days. I finally let him lie on his back with his hips in the air so that he pumped his load all over his face. On camera. Then I locked him back up in his CB and sent him home to secretly plan his own downfall.

I had four long days of work to get through with only Jan’s vanilla loving to relax me. But I hated the idea of my poor new couple left to their own devices.

I scrolled through my cell numbers until I got to Leon’s.

Reach out and touch someone.

End of Part Four