 |
|||
|
|
THE CONTINUED EROTIC ADVENTURES OF SLAVE KALA: BEACH MANSION - PART 3: TAKIN’ A CHERRY
CHAPTER 5
I’d stood in the dark for a long time, limed in moonlight, letting the wind play over my black hair as I looked out on the darkened yachts. Alone on the dark, cool windswept beach, smelling the ocean air, my thoughts and I until I’d come to my decision. Finally I’d returned to the docks and meekly presented myself to Jeremy, who’d rowed me out to the appropriate yacht, a huge 300-foot long 3 story high monster. There’d been a little difficulty in climbing the rope ladder, burdened as I was in my black dress spilt high up both thighs, two inch prada heels; I’d have managed, but the bottle of champagne made all the difference. Fortunately Jeremy’s hand, firm on my buttocks but nothing but respectful, even helpful, gave me the sense of security I needed to make the climb.
Now I wandered through the halls, champagne in hand, seeking out my prey (ha). Lizibeth had imparted several pieces of information to me in the bathroom, one being a very general layout of the yacht and where I could expect to find certain things including Steven’s bedroom. The boat was silent and dark, halls dimly lit by recessed strip lighting, most lights off, I presumed to save power, but on the second floor I finally found it. I heard him long before I saw it, what sounded like an intense FPS video game was in progress; he had the sound very loud alone on the yacht. The door to his suite was open, and I saw the flickering blue light from the TV spilling out onto the hall; over the noise of gunshots explosions and screams, he couldn’t hear me approach.
I stood in the doorway and looked him over; he sat with his back to the door on the couch of the suite’s main room. The yacht was huge and he was ensconced in one of its several fully equipped living suites, several large rooms including ensuite kitchen and bathroom; the living room large and spacious had a 40-inch flat screen television mounted high on one wall. He played some kind of video game using a wireless controller, sitting on the couch looking up at the screen, the scattered remnants of a pizza, a half full 2 liter bottle of coke and a large bag of pretzels scattered on the coffee table before him.
He was big, perhaps 6 feet or a little under, long and lanky but I could tell he worked out at least a little, he had some muscles on his arms, no body builder but I bet he didn’t get pushed around either. His mop of dark brown hair was engagingly untidy, sticking up over his ears with a cute little cowlick in the back, he wore dark black dress pants that looked old and worn, and a black t-shirt with Metallica emblazoned in silvery letters across the shoulders; he was busy killing uniformed WW2 Russian soldiers.
Sneaking up on him was not a good way to introduce myself; I quietly tiptoed back a little way up the hall. Turning back toward the door, I clopped loudly down it, my heels making clicking noises as I avoided the carpet and walked directly on the fiberglass floor.
I called out to make sure he heard me, “hello?”
Instantly the noises stopped and the flickering light became steady.
“Hi, anyone down here?”
He appeared in the doorway, looking confused.
Half wary half angry, “hey! Who, who are you? Where did you come from?”
He was frowning; I gave a confident smile as I approached.
Brightly, “Hi, I’m Kala.” I held out my hand.
He looked me over nonplussed as I walked up to him, but instinctively he shook my hand.
Muttered, “I’m Steven,” louder, “this is my father’s yacht.”
I decided to start with girlish, I could always become more mature if that seemed the way to go, “oh I know, he thought you might like some company being out here all by yourself, he thought you might be bored, so I’ve come to entertain you.”
He frowned, looking me up and down glancing at the bottle of champagne; he flexed his arms seeming to swell as he stood straighter. He looked like he was considering grabbing me and frogmarching me up the stairs and off the boat.
But at the same time his cheeks heated and he looked very childlike, he tried to speak assertively but the end came out plaintive, asking for reassurance, “no way, he, he didn’t send me a call girl, did he?”
It was my fault, I’d phrased it very badly, what else was he supposed to think, there were only a few conclusions he could come to after all. Still I felt my own cheeks flush at the offhand (and benefit of the doubt) unintentional insult; I felt my ass tighten in response to the feelings of humiliation and anger he inspired.
I kept my voice level, “do you think there are any prostitutes on the island?”
He blushed redder, ducking his head, “I, well I.”
“Do I look like a prostitute, Steven?”
“Um, no, no I guess not, I just thought I mean um…”
He trailed off, and I relented.
Very gently, softly I offered, “I’ll forget it if you apologize.”
Promptly, “I’m sorry,” a brief pause and he went on, “you just, I mean I didn’t expect anyone out here, he knows I don’t need a nursemaid, I’m fine out here by myself.”
I gave him a bright smile, dropping back into girlish, “I’m not here to nursemaid you Steven, I assure you. I just heard you weren’t coming to the party, and I thought you’d be bored out here all by yourself, so I volunteered to come spend some time with you.”
The strict truth wasn’t necessary, as long as I stuck to most of it.
“Oh, um, are, are you a friend of my father’s?”
We were still standing in the doorway. “No, but I’m a good friend of your father’s host tonight. Shall we go sit down?”
He looked even more embarrassed as he realized we were standing in a hallway, the only two people on the entire boat; “oh, sure.”
He led the way to the couch; he looked up at the TV screen, “um, just a stupid little video game, here.”
Quickly he grabbed up a remote control, in seconds the TV screen was off and the lights came on, revealing the tastefully appointed but teenage messy room. He flopped onto the couch, clearly nervous, and I sat down on the far end not crowding him.
I set the bottle on the table, “I brought some champagne, you know the party tonight is a celebration of Mr. Thorn’s new company, your father’s one of the investors, they’re celebrating.”
“Yeah I know, Dad said I probably wouldn’t want to be there ‘cause” he dropped his gaze, “well ‘cause of the” he coughed “the entertainment planned afterward. Dad didn’t specify but that’s why I assumed, I mean, um.”
“It’s alright,” I told him, “I forgive you, really.”
He nodded; he wasn’t looking at me. I tapped one finger against the green glass of the champagne bottle.
Gently, “would you like some champagne?”
He was very nervous, being alone with a (yes I’m proud) beautiful older woman, “ughh, I don’t” – hoarsely - “I don’t really like alcohol.”
Bright, girlish, “oh just a little bit, everyone’s celebrating. Can you find a couple of glasses?”
Muttered. “I guess.”
He rose and disappeared through a door I could see led to the kitchen (galley?) returning moments later with a pair of champagne glasses and a corkscrew.
I enthused, “oh good, I didn’t even think about how to open it, I’m either overtired or you’re just smarter than I am.”
It couldn’t hurt to flatter, a lot. He smiled nervously; fumbling a little he managed to set the glasses down and eventually managed to open the bottle, which earned him a smile from me.
I took it from him gently, murmured, “Let me.”
I poured two glasses. Slowly he sat back down. I took up the glasses proffering him one, hesitantly he took it.
I raised my glass, offered, “To friendship.”
He didn’t raise his, “friendship?”
“Yes,” I smiled, “you would like to be friends, wouldn’t you Steven?”
“Uh, sure. Friendship,” he raised his glass, took a big gulp.
I sipped mine set my glass down. I took up the bottle and deftly refilled his before he could protest; he’d drained it halfway. Quickly I picked up my glass again; it wouldn’t do to get him drunk, but a little looser wouldn’t hurt.
“Another toast, to always having a reason to celebrate and friends to celebrate with.”
Gently I clinked my glass to his, I took another little sip and he drained his glass. I filled it again, though only halfway; he hadn’t noticed I was sitting much nearer.
He picked up the glass, a little calmer now but he wasn’t looking at me, “so uh, can I ask what exactly is uh, going on over there?”
I smiled, sipped my champagne as I thought how best to proceed, I think less girlish was the right way to go.
“I, and other girls who volunteered to come tonight, are what some refer to as lifestyle slave girls; our Masters and Owners sent us to Thorn for the weekend when he asked friends of his to help him entertain his guests tonight.”
I watched as he thought this over.
Hesitantly he ventured, “you mean your Master sent you as a uh, ummm, are you being paid for this?”
I shook my head, disgusted but then I couldn’t really blame him (I mean I could but he wasn’t trying to be insulting).
“Steven, do you have any idea how insulting I find it to be asked if I’m a prostitute?”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
“Truth is I was brought out here to have sex with guests, but I’m not a hooker.”
“So you just came to have sex with strangers?”
“That’s right, fact is I literally have a medical condition called nymphomania, but that’s beside the point Steven, I’m a slave, it’s a non-legal definition, but it basically means I’ll do anything my Master wants of me. Thorn’s a good friend, and my Master wants me to please him by entertaining his guests tonight.”
“So what is this, your break?”
I shook my head, “no, I told you; your father told Thorn you were here all alone, and I volunteered to come out and keep you company. If you’d rather I left you alone Steven, I’ll go,” softly, “just ask, I won’t take offense…if you don’t want me.”
The last was an offer, he could take it, refuse it or pretend to not catch it and delay the final decision on his part.
He pretended he didn’t catch it (or perhaps he really didn’t, 18 nervous and confused…), “what, what’s this nymphomania you mentioned, I never thought there was a real medical condition called that.”
I smiled, lots of people thought that, “basically it means I’m really horny all the time, I really like sex, in fact I need it regularly or my desire literally increases to the point it becomes a physical pain. I’m easily aroused, I orgasm quickly repeatedly, am I making you uncomfortable?”
He was staring at me with an odd expression.
He shook his head, “no, it’s just that, well that sounds almost like any man’s wildest fantasy.”
I smiled, “my Master likes it.”
He nodded, and sipped at his champagne, as he’d been doing while we talked, his glass was almost empty.
I nodded at it, “would you like some more?”
He looked at his glass appraisingly, slowly nodded. I moved toward him on the couch, subserviently I filled his glass halfway again, setting the bottle down. Then I took his glass, setting it too on the table beside my own. Slowly I leaned in, pressing myself against his chest as I brought my lips close to his. He sat very still so I went the rest of the way for him, pressing my lips against his closed mouth in a gentle kiss. For a moment he didn’t respond, but then keeping his hands at his sides, he kissed me back, very gently; after a moment he broke the kiss.
He leaned back, grabbing his glass and using it as a barrier. Smoothly as if it wasn’t awkward I rose.
I praised, “That was nice.”
I picked up my own glass, and headed for a shelf beneath the TV full of movies, he watched me. I looked over the movies, most of them were action flicks, and I could see the shelves (6 of them from the floor to chest height) were deep enough for a double row of movies on each shelf.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever tried S and M?” I asked with my back to him.
Using my fingers I pulled up a few movies in the top shelf, more action movies behind it.
It took him a moment to answer, a long pause before his strangled, “no.”
I knelt, still facing away from him, concentrating on the movies. The porn was on the last shelf, behind science fiction and some classic movies, he had 3 or 4 vanilla porn DVD’s the rest however, were burned BDSM oriented stuff from the internet.
“But you’d like too,” I spoke softly, but loud enough for him to hear.
I stood and turned around, a couple of the movies in my hand. I showed him so he saw I’d noted the BDSM covers he’d printed out and slid into the case fronts (not subtle is he). He blushed, drinking from his glass to avoid my eyes. I turned again and put the movies back.
I returned to the couch, sitting right beside him, I forced him to meet my gaze.
He tried to deflect me, “how old are you, Kala you said your name was, right?”
I answered calmly, “I’m twenty-eight Steven, ten years older than you are, you’re eighteen right?”
He nodded and murmured a wordless noise as if I’d said something profound, “How do you spell your name?”
He’d said it just to have something to say, I smiled and gently spelled it out for him, he nodded again, at a loss; he looked around as if he’d find inspiration in the room. I leaned in again, placing a hand on his thigh as I kissed him, pressing my chest into him as I gently probed at his closed mouth with my tongue. After a moment he opened and I smoothly slipped my tongue inside him, I slid my hand up, gently cupping his crotch. He started violently, pulling away, pushing at my shoulder.
“Hey, what,” he stopped embarrassed as I calmly sat back.
He stood backing away.
“It’s okay Steven, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
He gulped his drink down, looked at the bottle.
“I can’t stop you, but I really don’t think you should have any more, trust me you really don’t want to.”
He looked at me a moment, than placed his glass slowly on the edge of the table.
I asked it very tenderly, “have you had sex Steven?” he stared at me as if I’d asked him if he masturbated to pictures of his sister. “It’s okay, I didn’t give my virginity to my Master until I was 19, very few people actually lose it much before 18 no matter what they say. It’s alright if you haven’t before, I know how, and can be very gentle.”
He breathed, “My father told you, he sent you here for this, specifically this.”
(Damn) I could tell he knew, he wasn’t guessing or assuming, so there was no use lying.
“He asked if I’d come out here and offer to give you a very memorable first time, if you want to.”
His face slowly grew stormy he spoke very softly, “how could he, I trusted him, I thought he understood it was in confidence. Where, where is he, I’m going to go find him.”
Steven started for the door, tears I saw, in his eyes.
I rose quickly to intercept him, “Steven wait.”
He pushed me violently, I stumbled in my two inch heels, fell with a little cry, I was taken completely by surprise.
“Kala, I’m sorry,” Steven stooped down to help me up. “Are you okay, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you down, I,” he trailed off, tears were still in his eyes.
“It’s alright Steven, I’m okay, just stay here and talk to me for a moment, okay.”
“I can’t believe he told you that, he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”
Steven let me lead him back to the couch; I sat him down, sitting beside him and holding his hand.
“It’s okay Steven, he just wanted to do something nice for you, you couldn’t really expect him to ask someone to come out here and take your virginity without telling them that’s what they were getting into, can you? Be reasonable.”
He looked away, red-faced, but the tears had stopped, “I guess you’re right, it’s just… I can’t say it.”
“You’re embarrassed, it’s alright, I understand, but don’t be Steven. I told you, no matter what you hear, most boys don’t lose it much before eighteen, trust me you’re the norm. Look, you have nothing to be embarrassed about okay, not being a virgin, and certainly not that I know it. You know I’m not going to talk about anything we do tonight with anyone, not even your father, right?”
After a moment he nodded.
“Steven,” I said gently, “Steven look at me.”
Slowly he looked at me, he wiped at his face, smearing his tears, but he was calm.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed, especially after tonight if you want to, because, well look Steven you’re a cute kid, no please don’t take that wrong. You have an older, experienced woman here, and if you want it, I’ll make damn sure you have nothing to be embarrassed about in the bedroom after tonight.”
He tried a smile, “your last name is Robinson?”
I genuinely laughed, “Have you even seen that movie?”
He pointed, “All three versions on one DVD. And you should have said beautiful older woman.”
I chuckled, a smoky intentionally seductive sound, “why you’re just a little sweet talker aren’t you Steven. Thank you.”
“I mean it, you’re stunning,” his voice was husky.
I smiled, patted his hand. “Thank you Steven, I always enjoy a good compliment.”
He was at a loss again, nervous, he pulled his hand out of mine, shifted on the seat; he didn’t know what to do next.
“Look Steven, let me be perfectly clear, I’ve already told you I’m a slave, I came out here to have sex with you if you want to. I’ll do just about anything within reason you want me to do. No pressure though, if you like we can just sit here and talk, or we can watch a movie if you like, or maybe play a game, do you have scrabble, chess?”
He made a strangled sound.
Gently I offered, “Do you want me to go?”
His head whipped around so fast it was almost comical, “no stay, please stay Kala.”
I nodded, “whatever you want Steven. Would you like to think about it for a while? Maybe we can just talk and you can take some time to decide what you’d like to do; I’m here to please you Steven.”
“You,” he hesitated, “you’re really a lifestyle slave girl, like you read about?”
“I don’t know what you’ve read Steven,” I answered gently, “I live with a man I love, who is my Master and Husband, every day every hour, I am willingly His to do with as He pleases. For my Master Himself I have no limits of any kind, He could hang me and I wouldn’t resist. And for anyone else my limits are very few, pretty much anything that won’t harm me, or permanently mark me, I’ll put up with. Tell me what you want Steven, I promise I won’t take offense, and I won’t laugh; at worst and very unlikely I’ll tell you I’m not willing to do something.”
“I don’t want to do anything that would really hurt you, I don’t want to harm you, I, I’m sorry I’m not very good at this.”
“You have no experience, it’s okay, we’ll change that. I’m willing to spend the night as your slave Steven, if you like. Just tell me what to do.”
“I can tie you up?”
I nodded, “yes Steven, but” I hesitated, “but I think it would be best if you let me fuck you first, the first time without any restraints. Trust me, I can make your first time so much better if I’m free.”
“But you’ll do it as my slave? You’ll let me order you around, tell you what to do, spank you?”
“Yes Steven, of course.”
“And later I can tie you? I want to tie you.”
I nodded, “yes you can tie me up Steven, but before you do we have to talk a little bit, make some things very clear okay.”
He nodded quickly, “I know the rules.”
I arched my brow, archly asked, “Oh, what are the rules?”
“While you’re my slave I’m responsible for your safety, I won’t do anything to harm you, to place your life in danger or that will scar you.” The next words rolled off him as if he practiced them, and had them memorized, “do you have a safe word Kala?”
I smiled, “no, I have no limits for my Master, and for others we discuss it first, just like we’re doing now; do you know what to do if I speak a safe word?”
He hesitated, I realized that wasn’t quite what he’d expected me to say, I cursed myself but I figured he couldn’t have too much of an attachment to some ritualized question and response formula, as he’d never actually done this before. Most like he’d memorized something off a web site.
He spoke by rote again though answering me, “if you use the safe word, I stop what I’m doing immediately and untie you, and I’ll ask if you’re alright, if there’s something I can do to help you.”
“Hmmm, well that’s close enough, some dominants like to give their submissive a safe word, others like the slave to choose.”
I stopped and waited, he hesitated. “Whatever you think’s best Kala.”
He wasn’t quoting anymore, very good.
“Is there a word you’d like it to be, otherwise I’ll think something up.”
He shrugged, “you pick.”
“Okay, how about cucumber?”
“You want cucumber to be your safe word?”
I smiled, shrugged, “why not?”
“Okay, cucumber is your safe word Kala,” he tried to sound briskly controlled.
I nodded.
He took a deep breath, “you’re my slave now right Kala?”
“Yes, for the rest of the night, all day tomorrow if you want, I’m staying until Monday.”
He nodded, “I can call you slave now, tell you what to do?”
“I’m yours Steven, call me anything you want, and I’ll address you in whatever manner you wish.”
He got a strange grin on his face; spoke quickly. “Exalted, call me exalted.”
I smiled, that had been quick, that I knew he was attached to (I wondered how many years he’d been wanting someone to call him exalted).
I lowered my eyes, “yes exalted, may your slave humbly remind you what she said about your first time?”
“I remember,” tiny pause, “slave.”
I grinned at him approvingly, he flushed and smiled.
Then his smile faded, heatedly, “oh shit!”
“What’s wrong exalted?”
He looked at me, rose, turned away, “forget it, you, shit! You might as well go back to the house.”
(Okay, this was bad).
I probed gently, “tell me what’s wrong Steven, maybe I can help.”
He groaned out, “I don’t have any condoms here; I have a whole box at home, but not on the ship!”
I smiled, “you don’t need them.”
He looked at me, “I don’t want to insult you Kala, but sure I do.”
“Why, you can’t possibly have an STD, and I promise you can’t impregnate me; and if you insist I will go back to the house,” I paused and he looked puzzled, “and I’ll come back with a piece of paper stating I passed an STD test 4 days ago.” (I was sure Thorn had it somewhere, he’d hang onto something like that at least until all his guests left happy).
Steven smiled, “that’s nice but even if you had a hysterectomy.”
I interrupted, unexpectedly harsh, “I do actually, my Master has 2 children by his high school sweetheart, and he didn’t want any more.”
He looked surprised, “you do, oh, well, still, isn’t it a good idea to always use a condom?”
I nodded, “yes Steven 99 percent of the time it certainly is, one of the few exceptions would probably be when a woman without a womb is taking a teenager’s cherry.”
He blushed looking down, and I resolved to soften, he hadn’t meant to insult me (and I didn’t want children, and if I did my Master and I could adopt couldn’t we).
Submissively I urged, “Command me exalted.”
He hesitated for just a moment.
He recovered, “I’ll command you when I chose to slave.”
“Yes exalted, your slave apologizes for her presumption, she humbly begs to be punished.” I bowed my head, waiting.
A pause, “not quite so formal Kala, it’s nice but,” he swallowed, “I’m trusting you to help me do this so I don’t make you think I’m a total idiot.”
I smiled, “don’t worry Steven, I won’t think that, I’ll help you don’t worry.”
For a moment he looked at me sitting on the couch, I looked up at him standing a few feet away.
Finally I asked, “Would you like me to undress exalted?”
He shivered, then held up a hand, “no, wait, we’re going to go slowly, okay.”
“Of course exalted, you’re in charge here.”
“I’m,” hesitation, “I want to show you something Kala, and I want your honest opinion.”
I nodded, “yes exalted.”
“Stand and follow me slave,” he grinned, “heel.”
I smiled at him, rising I clasped my hands behind my back and approached him with lowered eyes. He snapped his fingers; turning led me deeper into the suite. His bedroom was also messy, a smaller TV beneath it a rack of movies, another shelf held books; his bed was unmade.
He led me over to it, “ughhh, I forgot um.”
He began fussing with his unmade bed, sheets twisted all over the place, even the bottom sheet pulled out so the bare mattress was exposed. I couldn’t help but smile as he struggled to untangle the mess.
Gently, “exalted.”
He straightened to look at me, holding a tangle of sheets. I cocked my head, looking at him with a raised brow.
He got it, dropped the tangle, he pointed, imperious, “make the bed slave.”
“Yes exalted.”
I made the bed, it took about 2 minutes, it would have taken him all night (no not ‘cause he’s a man, just a teenager). I finally smoothed the sheets flat, I’d made hospital corners, the bed looked ready and inviting. He’d stood and watched; he nodded when I turned to him.
“Good, now there’s a chest under the bed, pull it out.”
I nodded, crouching I looked; beneath the bed was a trunk bright blue, it had a keyhole centered in the side facing me. I pulled this out, Steven had rustled up a ring of keys from a nightstand drawer, he selected an old fashioned skeleton key, and he tossed this to me.
“Open it slave.”
“Yes exalted.”
The lock clicked loudly, I opened the trunk.
Steven hovered over me anxiously, “I have more at home, this is just what I keep here, what, what do you think?”
It held various very standard easily obtainable pieces of bondage equipment, store-bought off shelves; handcuffs, leather whips, wooden rods, rope, blindfolds etc. I could see, tucked inside a band in the top of the trunk, which faced the user with the trunk open, various pieces of original packaging, use and care instructions for pieces of equipment, stuff that came with it in store. The trunk was neatly packed, everything in place, easy to find, organized and ready to go; it did have that to recommend it, anyone could pick this up, take it somewhere, and have themselves a nice time.
“It’s very nice exalted, I’m sure you’ll make improvements when you have more experience and know what you really like and what you’re good at.”
“You think there’s stuff I should get rid of? Or things I don’t have that I should?”
I smiled up at him, “Steven, Steven I can’t possibly answer that, you need to know more about your sexual likes and dislikes, and then you can answer that.”
He nodded, thoughtfully, “of course you’re right slave.”
“Thank you exalted.” No irony.
Husky, he cleared his throat and spoke, “stand up.”
I stood, facing him. He moved closer slowly, I could see a large bulge in his pants; he was happy I was here to see him. He reached out; taking the little necklace Elsie had lent me in his hand cupping it gently he raised it away from my breasts, looking at it. I stood quietly as he slowly lifted it up over my head; he tossed it aside, his hand reached out for my ear. Again I stood quietly as he fondled the little diamond earrings Elsie had also lent me; he didn’t try to take them off.
Instead he held out his hand, “give me your earrings Kala.”
“Yes exalted.”
I removed them one at a time, placing them gently in his palm. He tossed them toward where the necklace had fallen, looking me in the eye as he did so. I held his gaze, not bothering to watch them fly across the room; everything could be found later (he was very good for no experience).
He reached out and stroked my cheek, cupping it; I smiled and rubbed my cheek against his palm. He smiled back and brought his hand up, running it through my silky hair; he tugged gently with a little grin. I made a little murmur of submission, holding his gaze.
“Your dress and shoes, slowly slave.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. Feeling absolutely feminine and very sexy, I took off my high heeled shoes slowly one at a time; smiling at him seductively as I did it. The dress as it was designed to, slipped off easily. I slid it off my shoulders and let it fall in a pool around my feet; he caught his breath, taking me in hungrily with his eyes. In only my lacy midnight blue silk underwear, I stepped out of the dress, and stood for his inspection.
He complimented me, “magnificent.”
“Thank you exalted.”
“Take” he had to swallow, “take off the underwear.”
“Yes exalted.”
I removed the sheer lacy bra first, tossing it onto the dress, before hooking my thumbs into the band of the panties, bending as I drew it down; I lifted a leg letting my hair fall around my face as I looked down. Slipping one foot free of the frilly panties, I lowered my leg back to the floor, before lifting the other leg and slipping the panties off past my foot; I stood with them negligently in hand, hair hiding my face I threw the panties to the pile. Tossing my hair back, I looked at him smiling as I positioned myself seductively for his gaze.
Choked out, “turn.”
I turned slowly in place, letting him look at me; he made a noise when my backside was presented to him.
He came to his feet, approaching me, “what is this, is this real?”
His hand reached out, caressing the ink that proclaimed in black block letters, 2 underlined rows: SLAVE
KALA
I looked over my shoulder at him, “this is a temporary ink tattoo, Thorn had all the slaves marked for the weekend, my Owner will remove it when I go home.”
He smiled, gently rubbing his hand over the inked cheek, “so the guests know what to call you?”
“The guests can call me whatever they like exalted, but it helps keep track.”
“It’s lovely, I love it,” he looked me in the eye, “you really are beautiful Kala, and I’m not just saying that.”
I smiled at him, “thank you exalted.”
He traced a few of the fading welts the guests had left on me, gently rubbed one of the more prominent ones that would last a day or three.
Without being told, I turned, moving closer; I tilted my head up towards him, whispered, “May your slave have a kiss?”
He looked nonplused for a moment, but then he kissed me. He was unskilled, but naturally gentle, I opened his mouth with my tongue and his darted out quickly entwining with mine as I gently helped him french me. His hands slid around my back crushing me to him, it was a while before the kiss broke, we had to breathe after all. His eyes shone with excitement, I could feel his dick pressed against my thigh pulsing gently.
He released me stepped back, warned, “don’t move.”
I inclined my head meekly.
Heavily he sat down on the bed, looked at me, “kneel slave, remove my socks.”
Gracefully I knelt before him, taking his foot gently in my hand. He let me raise it and I began carefully working his sock off. I worked it past his foot, looking a moment at his nails, he didn’t get pedicures like Thorn, I could see a little dirt under his nails nothing horrible just what you’d expect of the average man, I wondered idly if I was going to suck his toes tonight (I live to please, grin). I put the first foot gently on the floor, and began working off his other sock, letting the bunched up pair fall to the floor, I knelt before him gazing up at him submissively, waiting.
Hoarsely, “my shirt.”
I had to kneel up between his legs, spread on the floor. Taking the hem of his shirt I lifted it up revealing his firm belly, (he had a slight six-pack) his lightly hairy chest, he lifted his arms, helping me work the shirt off over his head; I tossed it aside.
I knelt up between his thighs, my rock hard nipples lightly brushed the crotch of his jeans, and slowly I rested my hands on his thighs. He looked at me, he looked at me more, drinking in the sight of my face maybe, but I don’t think he knew what to do next. After a minute or two I reached for the zipper of his jeans; he said nothing as I pulled the zipper down, undid the snap. Slowly, gently I worked his jeans off tossing them on the floor, his hard cock tented his black boxers. I grazed the tent gently with the palm of my hand.
He sucked in a breath, “you, you know what to do Kala.”
It was a command, I was ordered to take his cherry from him (and I live to obey don’t I?). Smiling I dipped my hand into his boxers, found his hard cock, closing my hand gently around it. He closed his eyes and made a little sound, my other hand worked at his boxers, lowering them around his knees, exposing him. He was huge, larger than my Husband, 10 inches rock hard, uncircumcised, a huge triangular head purple now, his musky smell surrounded us.
I looked at his cock, smiling as I imagined it shoved up my by now dripping snatch, (I’m just a horny little slut, I know I know).
I looked up at him, “you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about Steven, you know you’re much bigger than the average man?”
He nodded, wryly, “I’ve been in locker rooms, slave.”
I stroked his hard penis with my hand, firmly running my closed palm up and down the shaft, feeling veins pulse. He moaned; I lowered my head, took his tip gently in my mouth. I grasped the base of his cock as I slid him down my throat slowly, he was bucking inside my warm moist cavern, and he didn’t have long.
He moaned, “I can’t, I can’t.”
I released him, kneeling up between his thighs, watching his throbbing cock bob gently in midair. He made a strangled sound, looking at me, but with no stimulation of any kind he managed to keep from orgasming. I looked at the wetness oozing down the sides of his hard member; slowly I slid his boxers off him.
“Fuck me Kala.”
I looked up at him startled, “yes exalted.”
I climbed up onto him, pushing him down on the bed as I straddled his hips, he pushed himself back on the bed until his feet rested on the very edge, and he reached up taking my waist in his hands. I took him in hand, lifting myself up I leisurely fed him into me, slowly inch-by-inch, halfway in (5 inches) he threw his head back groaning, and I knew I’d been too slow. I felt him pulse, shooting into me, spasming hot jets of cum up my slit, pouring into my uterus again and again, he was whining eyes closed tight head whipping from side to side. I felt him softening inside me.
He muttered, “shit shit shit damn, no.”
“It’s okay,” I soothed, “its okay, relax.”
“No,” he moaned, “oh no, I can’t, can’t believe.”
He was trying to shift me off of him, his face red with shame; he refused to look at me.
“It’s alright,” I soothed, tone becoming firmer, “no, calm down.”
I refused to get off him, lying myself flat against his chest wrapping my arms around his neck as I hooked my ankles together behind his knees; hanging on like a leech.
“It’s fine, my fault I’m sorry,” I said, “just relax, lie here like this, just like this, it’ll be fine Steven, trust me.”
“Kala.”
“It’s fine Steven, trust me, you’ll like, this it’s almost like magic.”
We lay there for a minute quietly; at my gentle request he brought his hands down to my ass-cheeks, cupping them lightly; slowly I eased myself down until my pudenda was firmly against the bone of his hips, taking him completely inside me as I’d meant to from the first. I had to cajole a couple times as he grew restless, but he lay for me, and after 5-10 minutes I felt his soft member growing hard inside my wet pussy (oh how I wanted to orgasm, you have no idea).
“Do you feel that Steven,” I contracted the big muscles in my vagina, the few ones I had any real control over, and he moaned, “you’re hardening, I’m not doing it, you are.”
“Yes,” he moaned.
We lay for another minute; his cock was hard inside me now, slowly I knelt up straddling him, hands on his chest. He grasped my cheeks more firmly as I tossed my head, getting my shoulder length raven hair out of the way. I rocked gently, feeling his turgidness 10 inches deep inside me. I half expected to feel a crick in my neck (in fact I did but I’m mostly sure it was mental).
His eyes were open now, he brought one hand up cupping a breast, I couldn’t help but moan when his finger found my firm little nipple and squeezed really, really hard.
“Oh yes.” I urged, rocking my hips.
He squeezed harder, pinching and I rolled my hips, rocked them, riding his 10 inches; I was hot wet. I quickened my pace as he arched beneath me moaning slightly, his hand fell away down to my hip and I rode harder, faster. He was rock inside me, and I worked myself using him roughly for my pleasure (bad slave, whip me). I squirted then cumming around him, he groaned loudly as my muscles spasmed around his cock but he didn’t cum yet; I could tell he was trying to last as long as he could. I came groaning, but instead of pausing to catch my breath I merely slowed the pace of my thrusts, resting even as I continued to rock back and forth slowly. Gentle friction making him grin and arch and roll beneath me, tossing his head from side to side eyes tight shut, he didn’t see me smiling down at him.
Gently I grazed his chest with my nails, thrusting deep, grinding myself into his hips. He arched and I felt him pulsing inside me, close to orgasm, but he fought it, trying to impress me. I let him fight, rocking thrusting squeezing his dick with my hot vulva, grinding myself against him, twisting as I rode him. I could feel the waves of pleasure washing over me, taking me over again.
“Yes Steven, yes.” I moaned to him.
Rocking thrusting and he arched to meet my thrusts, fucking me like a man. Thrust for thrust we had each other, and the pleasure built in me, he was moaning in time with my groans, which matched our rocking thrusts. One of his hands found the small of my back, pressing firmly the other found my nipples squeezing first one then the other; I had my head thrown back as I rode him, moaning uncontrollably. Again I felt myself spasming, spending my ejaculate all over, he was quivering inside me as I started to cum.
I urged gently, “now Steven, cum now.”
I moaned gutturally, he groaned too and came spending into me again, hot staccato bursts of semen shooting hard into me. We both moaned as we came together, me contracting around his rock hard member, squeezing him, milking the last bursts of semen out of him. I collapsed across his chest, and lay for a moment cradled in his arms. He was softening inside me again, and I pumped my hips squeezing gently, extracting a single small burst of fluid with a moan from him as he emptied himself.
Quietly we lay together for awhile, I listened to the beating of his heart as it slowed back to the powerful healthy rhythm of a fit man at rest, my own was still pitter-pattering a little too fast, but I felt myself recovering nicely (I needed to work on my cardio more).
I raised my head, kissed him lightly, pulled back to look him in the eye, “you made me come twice exalted.”
He grinned, “you did say you’re a horny little slut didn’t you slave?”
I giggled, “no exalted, but that was the underlying meaning of some of what I said.”
“You’re my horny little nympho,” he said firmly grinning.
I’m in some ways a bit of a lady, I hate rudeness, dirtiness, I embarrass easy, but this didn’t cause any embarrassment; I was proud to serve for his enjoyment.
I confessed, “Yes exalted, I’m your horny little nympho.”
“I’m going to call you my nympho-slut.”
I felt my face redden, but I acquiesced humbly, “yes exalted.”
“Does that embarrass you Kala?” he was smiling.
“Just a little, I’ve never been called a horny little nympho in quite such a baldly sexual way before master, I mean exalted.”
He grinned, “You can switch it up with master occasionally for variety if you like nympho, and I won’t call you that if you really don’t like it.”
I spoke softly, in surrender, “call me anything you like exalted, I’m yours to use.”
He smiled.
“Teach me to make out.”
It was a command.
Grinning I kissed him on the lips, running my tongue into his eagerly open mouth, his hands found my ass, kneading firmly.
I pulled back, “try one hand on my ass, master, the other cupping the back of my head.”
He did as I instructed and I kissed him again.
“Yes.” I said, “Just like that. Girls like having their ass squeezed, but you seem too eager if you use both hands, and we like having our hair stroked.”
He nodded, stroked my silky hair, “like this?”
I smiled, “yes exalted.”
We kissed some more.
I whispered into his ear, “Try slapping my ass lightly, not too hard, gentle, subtle is better for making out. Even pain sluts, which I freely admit I am, like gentle love making to get hot and bothered.”
He grinned and slapped my arse lightly.
“Yes master, good.”
I kissed him again, frenching him as he kneaded and occasionally gave my cheek a little slap while stroking my hair. I writhed against him, running my hands down his ribs, over his chest. He was stirring against my belly, I kissed the side of his neck and he fastened his mouth on mine as I stroked his mop of hair. He began sucking strongly on the artery in the side of my neck like he was a vampire.
I murmured, “Stop exalted.”
He stopped, pulled back quizzically.
“If you keep that up you’ll give me a hicky, master, which is fine if you want to mark me like that go ahead, but if I’m teaching you I have to say most girls don’t generally want to be given hickys.”
His face reddened, hands clenching my ass spasmodically.
“If you feel like giving me a hicky, Steven go ahead, but I can show you how to do it better.”
A horse whisper, “show me.”
“Kiss gently,” I instructed, “suckle just lightly, not very much just a little.”
He did as I bade him.
“Good,” I praised, “lick with your tongue, running it up and down the artery in my neck.”
He obeyed and I felt my blood heat.
“Yes Steven, good. Now kiss the hollow of my throat, nip just lightly with your teeth but don’t break the skin.”
I lifted my chin bearing my throat for him, and his lips closed gently over the little hollow, he sucked just a bit moistening my flesh, raising goosebumps, then I felt his teeth brush very lightly against the skin, carefully.
I was surprised when a moan came from me, “oh yes Steven, that feels nice, do that more and squeeze my ass hard.”
He obeyed and I felt moistness gush out my bare vaginal lips, I stuttered out a sound of pleasure, even as inexperienced as he was he knew the sound, and chuckled against the side of my neck. “You are a horny slut aren’t you Kala?”
I felt embarrassed, but I couldn’t possibly lie about what he made me feel, that wouldn’t be fair to him. “Yes exalted, I want to be fucked again…please?”
He laughed, “Are you just saying that?”
He was hard against my belly again, covered in my fluids.
“No Steven I want it again, I told you I’m a nympho.”
Before I knew what was happening, he rolled me to my back, crushing me against the bed beneath him. His hands found my wrists, taking my hands up above my head quickly he pinned them with one of his own.
His knee spread my thighs apart, “struggle slut, I want you to wrestle.”
I was surprised, but I obeyed, writhing beneath him I tried to free my hands. My Owner has me work out, it’s discreet, but I’m lightly muscled in arms belly legs, I am not a wilting little wall flower; but Steven was a full-grown male and he clearly worked out also. He held me down pinned beneath him even as I bucked and fought earnestly to free myself, knowing that was what he wanted. He chuckled as he held me pinned and fastened his lips on my neck, kissing just lightly.
I bucked and moaned, “Yes, Steven I’m helpless, I can’t escape.”
I reared and writhed even as I admitted this, and heard him chuckle against my neck. He held my wrists above my head with one hand with the other he forced my thighs further apart and entered me in one quick thrust.
“Fight me Kala, make it rape.”
For so young, he had a well developed instinct for role-play, I bucked fought writhed, he held me down and fucked me, raping me.
I played along obediently, “no, damn you, stop you fuck, you asshole, get out of me you fucker, you god damn fuck.”
I continued ordering him to stop, reviling him, threatening him as he smoothly ‘raped’ me, grinning as he took me roughly. When I came I couldn’t pretend it was anything but orgasm, and it triggered his own; after he’d emptied himself into me again he released my wrists lying atop me crushed under him. We lay quietly for a few moments, resting.
He kissed me on the forehead, “good Kala, that was…that was great.”
I grinned, “I enjoyed it too exalted, honestly.”
He fondled me with one hand, lying half on top of me, stroking my breasts, tweezing the nipples, stroked a hand down my belly (it felt good too, making me arch and murmur). His hand stroked back up my stomach then down again tracing around the belly button, dipped lower, pausing, then slowly he slid his hand down between my legs, which I immediately spread for him. His hand found my recently shaved vulva; he lightly stroked a finger up and down the curve of one moist outer lip.
Looked a little embarrassed as he asked, “can, can you teach me to eat you out?”
I smiled, “of course Steven, if you’re sure you want to learn. Many men don’t enjoy eating a woman’s pussy, but I can certainly guide you in how it’s done.”
“Teach me.”
I spread my legs wide apart, and guided him slowly so he lay flat between my thighs, I arched my hips just a little, “stroke my thighs Steven, lightly, just gentle.”
He did as I instructed, stroking spidery fingers across my inner thighs.
I moaned, bucked, “yes, just like that.”
I felt moistness flow between my lips, knowing he could see it (I am just a horny little thing, nymphomania can be a curse {a pleasurable one}).
“Stroke my lips with the tips of your fingers. Oh yessss.” The last an uncontrolled moan as he obeyed me.
I arched, thrusting my hips toward him, my hands found his head but I carefully didn’t urge him forward, yet; I knew he was staring, face only inches from my vagina, waiting for me to tell him what next.
“Use your fingers master, spread my lips.”
I groaned as three fingers from each hand shyly slid just a little into me, pulling my lips apart.
“Yes deeper Steven, spread me wider open for you.”
He moaned himself as he obeyed, spreading me wide apart, I was leaking fluid steadily, lubricating myself.
“Look for the little stamen Steven, my little pleasure node.”
He found it quickly, touching it with a finger.
I cried out as a sensation of unbearable wanting shot through me, “yes Steven please please do that more,” he did, “your tongue Steven, lick me there.”
I urged his head forward, and he nuzzled himself among my bare pudenda, his tongue flicked out, licking the inner lips of my vaginal mound, he pulled me wider with his hands, exposing me. I moaned, whimpering (I’m such a horny slut, I admit it). His tongue found my stamen, licking, sucking strongly. I moaned and immediately jetted a stream of ejaculate into his face, he recoiled dripping.
I whimpered, “I’m sorry Steven, I couldn’t help it, please don’t stop.”
He returned, licking me, suckling even as his fingers spread me about as wide as I could go, I was exposed, open dripping wetly, completely under his power as he licked and suckled strongly. I wasn’t guiding him now, it was all him, I felt waves of pleasure washing through me, starting in my groin up through my belly washing over my breasts, up to my heated face, then back down; and it built and built until I was moaning and twisting uncontrollably (yum). It lasted many minutes (slowed by my initial ejaculating I’m sure) but finally he brought me trembling to and then quickly, (with me screaming his name hoarsely) over the brink of orgasm. I was insentient for a while after, barely aware of him stroking my thigh gently and chuckling.
Praising me, “wonderful Kala, that was wonderful.”
I didn’t think it was wonderful, I’m a horrible teacher, all I did was beg him to make me cum; (but hey if he’s happy what kind of a slave-slut am I to complain? J).
Finally I was recovered enough, “that was amazing Steven, you’re wonderful.”
He smiled, rolled off the bed, coming to his feet. I admired the view of his tight muscled body, huge now limp dick hanging between his legs, a thick sack covered in dark brown curls hanging beneath it. He saw me watching and ducked his head, embarrassed.
“Don’t be embarrassed Steven,” I urged, “you have a nicely developed body, you’re hot. And if it really bothers you Master, order your slave to bow her head.”
He muttered sheepishly, “no you can look,” a pause, “am I really hot?”
I grinned, “You’re really hot Steven, and you’re really hot too!”
He got it, grinning, but then he bent and grabbed up his boxers, pulling them on. I watched as he walked to a dresser. Opening a middle drawer, he pulled out a digital camera, high-end, expensive it would take good quality pictures. He walked back holding it up for me to see as I sat up on the bed.
“I want to take some pictures,” he didn’t sound like he thought I’d object.
“Steven I’m sorry, but I don’t have the right to allow you to do that.”
His smile faltered, “You don’t have the right?”
“That’s right Steven, I surrendered the right to agree to things like that when I gave myself to my Master, only He can decide if I’ll pose.”
The teenager frowned, looking first at his camera as if it had betrayed him, then giving me a hurt look.
I winced, inquired softly, “Is it important to you?”
“Wouldn’t you want pictures of your first time?”
I smiled, “my Master used seven cameras ranged around the room when I gave Him my cherry, professional cameras He rented for the event and took a six week course to learn how to use.”
“So why can’t I?”
I interrupted, “I’ll make you a deal Steven, I’ll pose for you, on the condition that I take the pictures with me, I’ll show them to my Master, and ask, He’ll probably agree and if He does I’ll bring the pictures to you personally, alright?”
“So, I can take as many pictures as I want, and you’ll take them with you, and I only get them if your Master agrees?”
“That’s right Steven, He almost certainly will, in fact I’ll urge Him to, I just don’t have the right to agree myself here now.”
He frowned, “but you do have the right to agree to pose and take them with you, huh?”
I smiled, “it’s a judgment call Steven, I may be my Master’s slave, but practically speaking I am a full grown free willed and if I do say so myself intelligent young lady. I’ll pose because I chose to, then I’ll give my Master the choice of what to do with the photos because a long time ago, I chose to surrender the right to make such decisions to Him. So if you like, I’ll pose for you, and the pictures come with me, you’ll probably get them back, but I don’t guarantee it, do we have a deal?”
He nodded, “okay Kala.”
He raised the camera and I smiled prettily, sitting stark naked on his bed as he snapped a pic.
He shuffled forward, snapping more pics, grinning behind the camera, “pose Kala, show me how sexy you can be you hot little nympho you.”
I laughed and posed, shifting on the bed, sitting, kneeling up kneeling with my bottom resting on my heels, hands in my lap behind my back behind my head. I lay down, spread my legs, arched my hips toward him, smile smile smile; all as he grinned and shuffled around the bed, angling the camera this way and that way snapping, snapping.
After a while he started directing, “spreads your legs wider. Thrust out your tits, turn a little more.” Etcetera.
Eventually he started posing me with his hands, putting the camera down and gently shifting me a little this way or that, bending me over, parting my thighs, pressing on my back to make me arch. I let him, of course submitting to his will, and he dominated me easily, naturally as if he did it all the time; he was concentrating more on getting the shots he wanted than on me as a person. After a while he used the camera timer to put himself into the shots with me, patting my ass, kissing me fondling my breasts as the camera took pictures; finally he decided that was enough of that (for a while).
Putting the camera down in his little trunk, he took out a pair of handcuffs, he knelt on the bed beside me and gently he snapped a cuff on one wrist. I smiled at him, he grinned at me, brought my hand behind me, took my other hand and put it behind my back, slipped the other cuff over it closing it tight, I was handcuffed.
He knelt facing me, reached out to fondle a breast, he pinched my nipple making me gasp, he smiled. He brought his hand back, slapped my tit with a broad sweep of his open hand, sharp sound of flesh striking flesh. He hit me hard, my tit bobbled and reddened as pain flared. I gasped at the twinge, shifted a little but sat for him, he smiled at me and slapped the tit again, exact same place. I jumped and murmured in pain, he hadn’t told me to be quiet. He leaned forward, kissed my nipple sucking gently, getting his saliva on it, leaned back, slapped it hard. I groaned but remained still, his hand came up slowly, he stroked my cheek, my neck, trailing his hand down to my breast, which he then slapped again, same tit. My breast was red, the nipple tingling, hard; he grasped my tit in his hand, pinching an entire handful hard enough to bring tears to my eyes as I moaned.
He released my tit, brought his arm back and quickly slapped me (yes open hand) across the face, very, very I can’t stress it enough, very; hard. Crrrrrack! I saw stars, my world rocked, I felt myself fall across the bed with a little grunt of pain, swooning, he’d broken my jaw; pain flared radiating out from the broken bone, I think for a moment I passed out. I felt him move, closer, leaning over me, he lifted me back to my knees, smiling he brought his hand up again.
“No.” I mumbled, pain flaring from my jaw.
I felt something click back into place and the pain immediately eased. He grinned, chuckled, cocked his arm back.
I sobbed, tears falling from my eyes, “cucumber, please Steven?”
His face drained of color, panicking, “Kala? Kala are you okay?”
“Hurts.”
“I didn’t I couldn’t have, I didn’t mean, I I didn’t hit you that hard!”
He was stroking my shoulder as he said it, tears were in his eyes too, he was scared; he hadn’t meant to hurt me he just didn’t know how delicate the face was.
I begged, “Cuffs?”
“Yes, yes of course.”
He scrambled off the bed; found the key in his trunk immediately, scrambled around behind me, removed the cuffs. I brought my hand up felt my face, the bone wasn’t broken just tender, he hadn’t hit me that hard; the face however is a delicate thing, sensitive.
“Bathroom.” I mumbled, rising.
“Kala?” It was a request for comfort and reassurance; he was kneeling on the bed, tears running down his face, shivering.
I gave him a wan smile, “I think it’s alright, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Repairing to the bathroom, I peed, then (after wiping myself and washing my hands) I peered into the mirror. The side of my face was red, puffy; it was going to bruise and my Master would be displeased. The pain had eased down to a dull repetitive throb, I thought I would be fine, I touched it gently, wincing as a dot of pain flared from the center of the touch but it wasn’t unbearable and I didn’t have an actual headache so no concussion; just the dull throbbing in my jaw, which was slowly (very) but steadily lessening. I found Tylenol in the medicine cabinet and took two, gently dashed water on my face, gave myself a cup of the cooling refreshing liquid. Slowly used a hand-towel to wipe off my smeared makeup (ouchie). After giving myself a few minutes I returned to him.
Steven had dressed, he was pacing up and down in his living room, and I stood in the doorway of his bedroom, naked, giving him my best seductive pose. It took him a moment to notice me there, he looked wary.
Hesitant, “are, are you okay?”
I nodded, “I’m fine Steven, I mean it hurts like hell, but I’ll be okay. Will you come back into the bedroom and talk about it with me? I’d like to talk.” The last was a gentle request.
We sat on the edge of his bed, me naked, him in what he was wearing before, he hung his head refusing to look at me, but didn’t resist when I gently took his hand squeezing warmly.
“I’m fine Steven okay?”
He nodded.
“It’s alright, you just have to remember, the face is very sensitive, very easy to injure, you have to be very, very gentle with any sub’s face okay?”
He answered his lap, (which hadn’t been speaking to him that I heard) “yes.”
“Look at me please.”
He looked at me.
“I’m going to be okay, you just have to be gentle with my face okay?”
“I’m sorry Kala, I never, never meant to harm you.”
“I forgive you, and you didn’t harm me, just hurt the hell out of me.” I smiled at him very gently, “if you like, I’m happy to continue, as long as you promise to be very gentle of my poor face.”
“You, you mean you don’t want to go back to the house, maybe see a doctor?”
I shook my head, wincing and feeling stupid as pain radiated up and down my jaw, “no Steven, I’d like to stay here and be your horny little nympho pain slut fuck toy all night long, just as long as you promise not to get over excited and hit me there again, no more in the face, okay?”
“Yes Kala, I promise.”
I could see he meant it, he was really sorry about what he’d done, earnest puppy dog eyes told me he really hadn’t meant to do anything that hurt me like that, fun was fun and agonizing unbearable swooning pain was, well agonizing unbearable swooning pain.
“Okay.” I said softly, smiling.
For a moment we sat quietly, I needed to make the next move.
The same inflection I’d used once before, “command me exalted.”
He grinned a little ruefully, chuckling, “kneel on the center of the bed.”
I giggled, “Yes master.”
I obeyed as he stood and stripped back down to his boxers.
He grabbed the handcuffs lying on the bed, tossed them to me, “cuff your hands, behind your back.”
I complied as he returned to his toy chest. He pulled out a wooden rod, looked like a pointer, about a foot long thick on one end for gripping, it thinned down to a sharp springy willow like whip end perfect for whipping the hell out of my poor sensitive flesh.
He climbed on the bed, standing and walked to me; standing behind me he crouched over me. One hand slid around my arms, curling around them just above my elbows and he pulled tight making me kneel up and lean back so my elbows held firmly in his grip pressed against his knees, my head pressing into his crotch.
“Arch Kala, thrust your breasts out.”
I submitted to his control and he began whipping both my tits with firm hard strokes of the willow rod. The rod hurt like hell, whistling through the air, hissing against my skin, painting lines of fire across my breasts, agony flared through me. I grimaced whined grunted, writhed in his grasp as the blows continued to fall, welts became bruises and blood flowed just lightly. I was squirming thrashing, crying eyes screwed tight shut as he whipped me with the rod, I whimpered, begged but of course didn’t use the safe word, and he continued; I could feel his cock pressed against the back of my neck, rock hard. Finally he stopped, released me, I slumped on my knees, head bowed crying, but grew calmer as he stroked my hair and made soothing noises.
He moved up beside me, side on to me, and took me gently by the back of the neck, the evil rod still waiting (lightly slicked in my blood) in his other hand.
“Bend over, slave.”
Without waiting for me to comply, he firmly bent me over his knees.
“Arch Kala, present your buttocks.”
I did as he wished, lifting my cheeks up to him. He began whipping my already welted bum, teasing the welts already there, drawing agonizing streaks of fire across my flesh, my cheeks warmed, heated grew agonizingly painful.
I was bobbing my ass from side to side, grunting, crying as the pain built, yet thrilling to his firm casual use of my body for his enjoyment. Finally he tired of spanking me, and I gasped in relief as he laid the rod down and began stroking the firm swell of my upturned bottom with his hand; mumping in quiet pain when he teasingly pinched a bloody welt here and there.
“There there,” he soothed, “there there, done the spanking. Good slut good slave.”
I smiled, chuckled, “yes master, your slave humbly begs to serve you.”
He chuckled, “she does does she, well then, since she’s my Ms. Robinson, I’d better let her do as she wants hadn’t I?”
Oh he was good for eighteen, “yes exalted.” As much submission as I could proffer in my voice.
He moved over just a bit, cruelly sadistically making me lean back by pulling on the chain of the cuffs binding my wrists, not double locked they tightened firmly around my wrists (they weren’t any of the ‘safe’ kind you could buy the gentle kind, metal serrated jaws bit into my flesh). I moaned, surrendering, he pulled his boxers down around his ankles, freeing his rock hard member.
His hand found the back of my head and he guided me toward him, “I want a blow job.”
I nodded even as he gently but irresistibly moved my face toward his large ‘little head’. I opened my mouth and took him in, his hand rested on my hair but didn’t push, letting me please him as I wished.
I suckled him gently, sliding my head down taking more of him in my throat as I then sucked strongly, rubbing my tongue against the pulsing veins and arteries running blood through his engorged organ. He moaned, stroking my hair, I had my eyes closed, ignoring the searing pain in my tits and ass, the agony in my wrists, ignoring too the throbbing in my jaw as I blew him. I deep throated, taking all his 10 inches down my throat, nuzzling my nose in among the thick hair around his balls. He moaned and I felt him pulse in my mouth as I sucked strong and hard, he was already close, but he was a teenager. I suckled a bit more, pressing my tongue in little circles around the base of his head as I slid my mouth up and down him. He bucked and his hand pulled on my hair, I would have willingly swallowed his spunk but he didn’t give me a chance, moaning he shot a jet of semen into my face; he stroked himself, jetting more into my forehead, where it ran down my face, I opened my mouth shifting my head, the next pulse shot neatly into my mouth and I swallowed, he didn’t even notice I was doing it. Head thrown back, eyes closed, he pumped his hand sending another stream of white, hot sperm into me, and then another and another. His hard dick steadily wilted before my mouth, and finally he was empty, he slowly shifted until he was sitting on his ass beside me.
Stroking my hair he smiled down at me, “lovely slave, you're such a good little nympho-slut.”
“Yes master.” I whispered.
I was wet between my legs, ready and willing for him again. He found the key to the cuffs, released them, freeing me from the pain.
“Go clean yourself up, there’s mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.”
“Yes master.” I rose meekly.
***
I returned from the bathroom with a fresher mouth, and a willing attitude, I was ready to serve him in any way he might desire (yes please). He stood near the bed, boxers back in place, a dozen lengths of neatly coiled rope laid out on the bed, one short doubled length in his hands.
He smiled at me, breathed, “I’ve dreamed of doing this.”
I smiled as I approached, questioningly, “yes exalted?”
“I’m going to tie you up now slave.”
“Yes exalted.” Nothing but surrender.
Quiet, “hold out your hands wrists together.”
Smiling, I brought my hands up, pressing my wrists together, hands closed into little fists. He knew how to tie rope, nothing like my Master a trained and experienced Rope Master, but I’m sure hours of watching videos conferred a basic understanding. He wrapped the doubled length around my wrists, passing the ends through the loop, passing it around my wrists again then split the ends wrapping them over and under the coils of rope passed around my now tightly trapped wrists, he tied a simple knot in front nestled against the four coils of rope around my wrists; now my hands were bound.
“Sit down,” he instructed, waving at the bed.
I sat, looking up at him. He took my chin in one very gentle hand, bending over he kissed me, I opened my mouth as our tongues entwined gently for a wet luscious moment, then he stood.
Murmured, “Lovely.”
Smiling, I agreed, “yes master.”
He laughed lightly, picking up several small thin pieces of rope, “palms flat slave, spread out your fingers.”
I complied meekly, when he approached I held out my arms for him offering my hands to be bound. He smiled and took a short thin piece of cord, he tied my index fingers together tying a knot just behind the second knuckle; then he tied my ring fingers, pointers my pinkies, finally he bound my thumbs together. He wasn’t done, he still had several of the thin pieces of cord, he bound my pair of ring fingers to my two pinkies, tying a knot just behind the first knuckle restraining the quartet of digits together; he tied my index and pointer fingers similarly before looping another thin cord around my ring and index fingers so all four sets of digits were bound one to the other. Last he laid my thumbs flat along the line of my pointer fingers, and tied my thumbs to them; my hands were completely immobilized, utterly helpless. Smiling he returned to his chest, came back with two thin wooden rods and his camera.
He laid the rods across my knees held up the camera, “show me.”
I smiled and held up my hands; he took several pictures from a few different angles, before setting the camera down on the floor.
Murmured, irresistible command, “lift your arms.”
Immediately I raised my arms up above my head, exposing my armpits, but that wasn’t what he’d desired access to. He reached out, stroked one of my little brown nipples, tweezing gently making me squirm, I was rock hard; smiling his hand drifted to the other nipple giving it similar treatment, I murmured in pain, he pinched making me gasp. Chuckling he picked up the rods and a length of cord, thicker than that he’d used to bind my fingers but thinner than what he’d tied my wrists with.
Ignoring me, deftly he looped this around the end of both rods tying it off loosely, before picking up another cord and tying the other end of the rods together. The rope was loose leaving lots of play for the rods; he could move them several inches apart. I realized what he was doing and groaned when he fitted the rods over my nipples, firmly pressing them into my flesh. He smiled and holding the rods in place with one hand, reached for my nipple with the other. Submissively I kept my hands up out of the way, kept still as he plucked at the hard brown nub stretching it out, laying it across the wood, he repeated this with the other nipple making sure both hung well out over the wood. He pulled on the cord binding one end of the rods together, that end slid closed tightening pinching my nipples he pulled the other cord, sliding the rods together pinching my nipples tightly between them. I moaned as pain flared in my poor little perky b-cup tits, blood rushing to my nipples.
He laughed, as the improvised nipple clamps did their job, “hands down slave.”
I did as he bade me, letting the agony from the clamps wash over me.
I smiled at him submissively, “as you command exalted.”
That forced a real snigger from him. He smiled and kissed me quickly, hand gently (very) cupping my chin. He picked up a thicker longer length of rope, already doubled and ready for use. He looped this around my arms just under my bound wrists, sliding the ends through the loop created by doubling. He began encircling my arms with the rope, loop after loop circling around drawing tight trapping my arms together, it went all the way down to just above my elbows where he tied it off, trapping my forearms tightly together.
Smiling at me, he stroked my hair, “kneel on the middle of the bed slave.”
I had to work a bit to turn with my arms bound before me, and waddle in undignified fashion (am I too much a lady?) on my knees, ass swaying, to kneel in the middle of the bed.
Steven followed me, kneeling behind me, “cross your ankles slut.”
I complied meekly. He chuckled I think at my meek acceptance at being called slut.
He praised, “Good little nympho-slut.”
I looked over my shoulder at him, “yes master.”
I answered meekly, in a tone gently reminding him my safe word gave me more control over our play than he had. It sobered him, bringing him down from childish thoughts and back to the seriousness in the reality of our play.
He stroked my hair, “such a beautiful little slave Kala, you know I’m loving every minute of this, don’t you?”
I smiled and laughed, a smoky sound I saw sent shivers through him, “oh yes Steven, your enjoyment is rather plain.”
He smiled, ordered, “face front.”
Obediently I turned away. He took another thin cord, found my big toes, and adroitly slipped the cord around them tying them together; he followed this with a thicker cord, short doubled and he wrapped it around my crossed ankles, looped it, tied it off, binding my feet together.
He took a thick rope, also already doubled, white and fluffily soft; he threaded this through the rope tying my wrists, slipping the doubled ends through the loop and pulling it through, so it became a lead tied to the rope around my wrists. He brought it up, forcing my clasped hands to follow, he looped the doubled rope around my throat, not crossing in front of my throat but going all the way around so it circled neck and wrists together, a second loop stopped in front of my wrists, where he separated the ends, tying a big easily released knot just under the knot binding my wrists. My hands were trapped firmly against my throat, fingers pressing into my poor wounded jaw, but I accepted it complacently, allowing him to restrain me as he liked (he was good, considering he had no experience).
Another thick long rope doubled, he slid it through the crook of my elbows leaving it there.
His hand found the back of my neck, firm squeeze gentle pressure, “bend over slave.”
I bent, he helped with a firm push on my neck. When I was doubled over he took up the rope he’d draped over my elbows, he circled this around my knees threading the doubled ends through the loop in the crease of my elbows. He tugged, pulling the rope tight, tighter, forcing me to bend further over until the points of my elbows pressed firmly into the flesh just above my knees; he looped the cord a few times around my knees and elbows before tying it off trapping me in place.
I was bent over now, back arched, blood welted fanny raised high in the air, face pressed into the mattress, my knees took almost all my weight the way my ankles were bound, it would quickly become painful. He climbed off the bed, snap snap snap went the camera, he circled the bed taking pics from many different angles, especially getting close ups of my raised and proffered anus. He put the camera down next to me and went back to his toy chest, he returned, my face against the mattress I couldn’t see what he had retrieved.
He pulled a pillow away from the headboard, lifted me gently by the wrists and slid it beneath me; I turned, laying my cheek on the pillow.
Meek, “thank you exalted.”
Whispered back, “you’re welcome slave.”
He slipped the thick leather discs of a blindfold over my eyes, immediately blocking all light, I felt the leather strap encircle my head as I murmured wordlessly; he tightened it smoothing it over my shoulder length hair, I was blind. Snap snap went the camera exactly twice. Gone from me for a moment he returned, kneeling beside me.
He stroked my bum, agonizing fire as his palm slid over lines of dried blood covered welts; I stiffened as I felt him stroke the tip of the hateful rod lightly against my cheek, tracing my tattoo.
Teasing, “time for another spanking?”
I shook my head, “no please, mercy.” I whined.
“Mercy, you mean I can’t spank you Kala?”
“You know you can Steven,” I admitted, “but your slave humbly begs you to show her your mercy, please Sir?”
He laughed, “If the rod hurts too much, my little pain slut, would you prefer the strap?”
“The strap?”
Firmly, “the birch rod or the strap Kala, choose, my dear, your back could use a good going over.”
I laughed, it was covered in welts from the other guests, most of them no more than 3 or 4 hours old (Steven had a nice sense of humor).
“The strap, master, please?” I begged.
He murmured, “The strap then.”
He gave me a single hard lash with the rod, making me whine and shift before I could hold myself still, then he left me again. I heard him dip into his chest, my eyes blind; my other senses seemed to heighten in anticipation. For a long moment everything was still, quiet, I felt sweat beading under my armpits, beneath my aching breasts, as I waited with bated breath for the application of the strap.
Crack! I jumped and shivered at the really loud noise, he’d snapped the thick length of leather together making the sound.
It came again, and again, “not hurting you yet Kala, be still,” he chuckled.
“Yes exalted.”
Crack! I shivered as the strap landed just where the crack of my ass started, crack! again it fell higher this time working its way up my spine crack! Whirr crack! Whirr crack! Whirr, each time making me tremble, murmur in pain, as he welted my curved arched helpless back.
He worked over my lower spine just above my hips for many minutes, welting it thoroughly, before teasing me with blows to either side working my ribs, moving up to my shoulder blades. As time passed I became drenched in sweat, swaying from side to side just the tiniest bit, straining against the bonds which held me still. Blind I could only helplessly anticipate where the next blow would fall, and although I guessed right many times (Steven after all was using brute strength to make up for a lack of experience granted subtly). Still the agonizing strain of waiting to see where the pain would blossom next exhausted my reserves of decorum until I shifted in the ropes, whined as the blows fell. Finally I was crying, begging piteously for mercy. I don’t know how long after I started begging it was before he finally stopped, but at length I waited in vain for a blow to fall, only to feel him come to kneel beside me on the bed.
He stroked my welted back very gently, “there, that’s enough of that, isn’t it Kala?”
“Yes master.” I whimpered unashamedly.
I had to have been whipped for at least a straight hour, maybe longer. He stroked my back, sliding his hand down he caressed my arse, sliding his hand over the smooth uplifted swell of my cheeks, squeezing here and there, provoking gasps of pain from me.
He shifted to kneel behind me; I felt both hands part my cheeks, exposing my anal hole to his gaze, “I want to fuck your butt.”
It was a request, he sounded like he expected to be refused.
I gave a little chuckle only through my nose, “yes exalted but, and please forgive the pun, my butthole has been used roughly the last couple of days, please please be gentle with it.” I paused, “some lube would be nice.”
“I don’t have any.”
I asked hopefully, “hand cream?”
He spoke softly, “I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to lube me?”
“No.”
“I see. You want it rough?”
“Yes.”
I gave a little sigh, I was here to please him, and I nodded.
He perhaps didn’t see it, or was just unsure, “I’m going to fuck your butthole Kala, unless you want to use the safe word?”
“Go ahead Steven, I won’t resist.”
I felt him part my cheeks, then his finger dipped pressed gently into my starfish, slowly firmly he forced a single finger into my anus. I made myself relax my cheeks, knowing it would hurt more if I fought. He slid his finger in up to the second knuckle, slid it back then in again back and forth several times; finally he slowly with a wet suction removed his finger from my anal hole. He brought the finger up to my face, passing it beneath my nose, I’d bathed thoroughly before presenting myself to Steven, including bathing my anus thoroughly, still I could smell unpleasantness. I snorted, shifted my head, but he pressed the finger to my nose, forcing me to smell it.
“You’re a dirty little slave aren’t you Kala?” I said nothing, “aren’t you?”
It was what he wanted, “yes exalted.”
I felt humiliated, the ladyness in me rebelling, tears leaked out under the blindfold, he didn’t notice even as I fought my feelings to surrender to him.
“Open your mouth.”
I opened and he slid his finger into my moist cavern, “suckle it.”
I sucked his finger, cleaning it with my mouth and tongue; he withdrew it from my mouth with a wet noise. He stroked the cleft of my ass cheeks with his wet finger, drying it, then rose from the bed.
He dug in his chest, returning a moment later, peremptory, “open.”
Again I opened and he slipped the hard plastic of a ball gag into my maw, I tongued it lightly as he buckled it in place. It smelt brand new, I closed my teeth on it gently, unscored hard plastic I was the first to have it in my mouth. It kept me from intelligible speech although it was no muzzle, I could probably make myself understood if I really wanted to.
He crouched behind me, and I realized he had removed his boxers again. His hands gently fell on my waist, I felt his throbbing cock probe lightly at my butthole I held myself still, made myself relax, keeping my cheeks loose so he’d have it easier. One hand came up to the back of my neck, gripping firmly, the other guided and fed himself into me; I felt his uncircumcised cock rock hard and pulsing, probe up my anus. He slowly eased all 10 inches up into me, I groaned around the gag as my anus, already used roughly this weekend, stretched around him, accommodating his size. He ignored me, began fucking me roughly, with no regard to my comfort or enjoyment. That alone made me wet and horny, thrilling to be debased and used as a fuck toy, temporarily of no value but my hole, which he used for his enjoyment. He rode me hard, fast, rocking me with the force of his thrusts, he fucked me and then groaning, came, hard ropy lines of semen shooting up my ass, then dribbling back out like diarrhea.
Panting he collapsed atop me, resting against my back, until he finally whispered, “that was god damn fucking great Kala, I love you.”
|
|
|