Harry’s Tale

By Millie

 

Written for a good friend.

 

“Good afternoon, Harry, is he in?” The voice startled me and I looked up from the page I was writing, a smile crossing my face as I did so.

 

“Yes, Ma’am, but he’s on the phone, could you wait a few minutes?” I received a nod in reply and then watched my boss’s wife make herself comfortable in one of the sumptuous armchairs, I saw her cross her long, shapely legs and then, my cock stirring painfully in my pants, I returned to my work.

 

My boss is the CEO of a subsidiary of an oil conglomerate. We provide security for some of the offices they have around the world and he pretty much concentrates on that one client, although we do have a few others, all of whom are also linked to the oil company. My boss’s name is John Downley, he is 36 years old, tall, dark haired and, to me at least, devastatingly handsome. Mrs Downley is the same age, a little shorter than he with blonde hair and a figure to die for.

 

I’m Harry, and this is my ideal job. I am in charge of John’s office staff, three secretaries, two clerks and a chauffeur. I am also, not that many people know it, the Downley’s personal slave.

 

When I am talking about them with other people I can call them either Mr or Mrs Downley, but when we are alone then they are Sir and Ma’am, or Master and Miss Samantha or even Mistress. The names fall easily off my tongue and so natural is my position with them that I never make any mistakes with their titles. To do so would be very painful and humiliating for me and, although I love the punishment I receive, I think that even I would struggle to cope with the type of reprimand that blunder would earn me.

 

Master and I met at college, I was in the year above him, not that it mattered, and he was assigned to my rooms for his first year. We hit it off right away, although I didn’t tell him I was bi, not wanting to scare him off, or fight him off either. He tells me now that he always knew, and maybe he did, after all, who am I to argue with my boss?

 

“Harry, do you think he will have finished yet?” Miss Samantha’s voice cut into my thoughts and I quickly looked down at the small switchboard on my desk.

 

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am, he is off the phone now.” The look I received for this news was not encouraging, so why did it make my heart flutter? “I will announce you, Miss Samantha, and I really am very sorry.”

 

“Yes, you will be, boy, but then so will he, for hiring such an incompetent!” I quickly put a call through to my Master and then watched as the double doors to his office opened and closed and again I was alone.

 

I guess I should explain a few things, maybe show you how my life works. As I sit here at my desk I look like any other mid management bod, a little bored, a little listless, and ready for a holiday. I am all of those things, but I am also far more. For instance, however I look it isn’t apparent that, under my smart suit, chosen for me by Master, I am wearing very skimpy white lace panties, a suspender belt and stockings. The panties I wear all the time, the stockings are a punishment for spilling some orange juice at breakfast this morning. I also have on a chastity belt. It is made of clear plastic and points my penis down and towards my body. One of my common punishments is to stand in front of a mirror, hands behind my head, and see how restrained it is, how small and wimpy in its confinement. The problem is that looking at myself in that way excites me and my cock tries to grow, to become hard and erect, but it can’t and that adds to both the excitement and the humiliation.

 

I live with Master and Miss Samantha; the house is large with a beautiful annexe. When visitors come it is made clear to them that I live a totally separate life in that annexe, and so far no one has questioned it. When they are gone, of course, my life is anything but separate, and although I do live in the annexe, I don’t get to spend a lot of time there.

 

When Master John and I first met, like I said, I was the second year student and he was the new boy. He seemed so nervous and quiet that after a week I wondered whether he would actually stay the course. I had just broken up with my first real boyfriend at the time and was, for me, uncharacteristically mean and nasty.

 

“For goodness sake, John, you have to get yourself together. Everything is still packed, you have a first assignment due in by the middle of next week and so far you’ve done nothing but sit and dream on the sofa. You need to get a hold of yourself.”

 

He’d just nodded; after all, what I said was true. In fact he had the same t-shirt and jeans on that he’d worn when he arrived because he hadn’t unpacked anything. Every two days or so he’d remove the smelly articles, wash them, put them to dry and they would be back on his slight frame the next morning.

 

“Would you like me to help with your unpacking?” I asked begrudgingly, and in a way I hoped would show that I really didn’t want to bother, but his eyes had lit up.

 

“Would you? That would be wonderful … I … I’ve never been away from home before except on holiday, I’m not used to doing this for myself.”

 

With a sigh I’d marched into his bedroom, grabbed the first suitcase and hauled it up onto his bed. I undid the zip that went all the way around and then looked at the contents. They were all folded beautifully and between each item was a layer of tissue paper.

 

“Whoever packed this for you? Does she feed you breakfast as well?” John had blushed and turned away and I knew I’d hit a nerve. I shook my head and laughed at him before picking up the first item, a new shirt, and sliding it onto a hanger. Each item that I took out was also new. This boy was seriously spoilt.  As with all student rooms there was never enough space, and by the time I was on the second case the wardrobe and drawers were filling up rapidly. I picked up a pair of Superman boxers and as I did so a sheet of paper fell out. John reached for it, but I was faster, and with a laugh I began to read.

 

‘Johnny, mummy hopes you have enough stuff here. If any of it isn’t to your liking send it to the charity shop and let mummy know. She will send you some more things to replace them. Make sure you call her every day, and write too, you know how she gets when she doesn’t hear from you.

 

Good luck, I know you will do well, I will miss you, but one of us had to leave, and it was always going to be you.

 

Love

Dad.’

 

John was beet red now but I noticed that his hands were in his lap as he sat watching me. I don’t know why I did it but I ordered him to remove them, and sure enough his trousers were tented, he was getting off on the humiliation!

 

I finished up his clothes and then moved into the small lounge area we had. John didn’t follow me and in the end I called out to him and he scuttled into the room.

 

“So, mummy’s boy, what do you want to do now?” I kept my eyes firmly on his groin and the small movements there were easy to see.

 

“I … I could fix you supper, I’m very good at that.” I waved him towards the kitchen and leant back in the chair, closing my eyes and letting the wonderful possibilities of what I had here wash over me.

 

The door to Master John’s office opened and Miss Samantha and her husband came out.

 

“Harry, it’s time to go.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.” I stood up, slid my work into a grey manila folder and put it in my desk drawer. I locked it, gave the key to my Mistress, and then followed along behind John as we left the office suite.

 

The deep blue Mercedes that Miss Samantha drove was parked in one of the visitor’s lots of the underground car park. There was a space for the CEO, but Master was never allowed to drive to work on his own, Miss Samantha always drove us to and fro, even though we both had licenses. John and I climbed in the back and our Mistress made herself comfortable in the driver’s seat. As always we held hands, John’s soft skin against mine and I longed to lean over and kiss him, take him in my arms and just hold him tight. I didn’t though, because to do so without permission would earn both of us a severe thrashing, and I had outside meetings the following day, which would go much easier if I could sit down.

 

The journey was usually a half hour one, but there was an accident holding us up and, looking into her rear-view mirror, Miss Samantha spoke.

 

“Harriet, I know how much you want to, so you may kiss John.” I felt my friend, lover and Master’s hand tighten in my own. Yes, we wanted to kiss, but not when the car was stationary, not when there was a huge lorry right behind us with its driver staring right in our window. We had no choice though and so, very tentatively, like the first time we ever touched each other, our lips met and again I was reminded of the softness of every part of John.

 

Our life on campus had gradually fallen into a pattern. John did the cooking and cleaning, which apparently were jobs he’d shared with his father at home. I helped him get a routine up, introduced him to a few friends and gradually we began to spend all our time outside lessons together. His home life was explained to me over the first few weeks, hesitantly at first but then, when he realized I wasn’t going to be shocked and disgusted by it, it seemed to come out in a flood.

 

John was an only child, his mother, not wanting to have more than one child to lavish her love and attention on, had forbidden his father to touch her again after his birth. That love and attention though, had a price, and it was he as well as his father who paid it. Mrs Downley, who John still called Mummy, bought him everything she though he should have, and she pampered him. Until he left home he had never had a bath or shower without her being present in the room, had never gone to bed without a kiss and cuddle, and had never had to get a Saturday job to earn his own money. What he had had to do however, was to cook, clean, wash, dust and Hoover. All those things that his mother had deemed beneath her had been passed on to him and his father.

 

So John had been socially inept but made a mean Sunday roast. I hated cooking with a passion and had the numbers of all the take away joints on a list by the phone. I still called them, but not with the regularity of my previous year in college.

 

The first holiday we had, at Christmas, John invited me home with him for the festivities. As I hadn’t been looking forward to spending the time with my own folks the invitation was gratefully received, and with hindsight, proved to be the catalyst to the relationship we have now.

 

“For goodness sake, put a bit of passion into it.” Miss Samantha’s voice cut through the car like a knife through butter and, knowing better than to annoy her, I turned a little and pushed my tongue gently against John’s lips. With a moan of surrender he opened his mouth and at once we were in heaven. My hand snaked round to grasp the back of his head, my eyes closed, and I began to kiss him in earnest, my cock trying it’s best to respond, as I knew his would be.

 

“That’s better, now, Johnny, stroke Harriet’s little Dickie. Make sure he’s good and hard, well, as hard as it gets in his cage, and that all the other drivers can see what you’re doing.”

 

I wanted to slide off the seat, or pull away from John and even maybe slap him, so that the other drivers would think I had nothing to do with what was happening, but I didn’t. Instead I waited for the feel of his hand against my thigh, felt him gently touch me, before, after a stern coughing sound from the front of the car, he grabbed hold of me, through my suit and moved me around. Of course, with my cock inside its prison, all that happened was it throbbed painfully and I cried out into his mouth, wanting the torture to stop, but praying that it wouldn’t.

 

I heard a few car horns, and one or two voices calling out to Miss Samantha, but then the traffic began to move again and we continued our journey. As we hadn’t been told to stop John and I carried on kissing and fondling until we arrived home, by which time both of us were so horny and desperate that we would have agreed to anything for a little release.

 

The house we live in is huge, as is befitting a man in John’s position. All of it is in Miss Samantha’s name however, and if it were ever to be sold she would make millions. John is an extremely wealthy man though, the family money put in trust for him and any children he may father. Miss Samantha can’t touch that but, as she spends the interest and enjoys the lifestyle it affords her, she doesn’t mind too much.

 

My rent is tiny for the living arrangements I enjoy, but then, it never was the money that made them invite me to co-habit with them in the first place. I am there to be enjoyed, humiliated, shared and tormented, and I love every minute of it.

 

Miss Samantha drove the car straight into the garage, the door automatically opening as she passed a sensor on the gate, and closing again once we were inside. The house itself is on a very pleasant, very expensive, and exclusive road on the outskirts of town and has sufficient grounds around it that we are never disturbed by the neighbours, or they by us.

 

John and I reluctantly stopped kissing each other and climbed out of the car. Then we stripped off our suits, shirts, shoes and, in John’s case, socks and placed them in two empty laundry baskets. We would return later to collect them; now wasn’t the time.  I knew better than to remove my stockings and so they remained on me, along with my panties and my hated but revered cock cage.

 

On the counter at the end of the garage were two small jewellers boxes. We each opened one and carefully put the enclosed gold loops through our pierced nipples. Miss Samantha knew that wearing them in the office wasn’t feasible, heaven knows what one of the older managers, or visiting clients might have thought if they saw them through our shirts. Our Mistress controlled us both, but she knew that certain relaxations of the code we lived by had to be expected if we were to continue bringing in the large amounts of money we both earned each month.

 

“Harriet, my sweet boy, I do believe you have a punishment waiting for you, Johnny, you may go and make me a drink. Pimms I think.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” John fell to his knees in front of his wife and then crawled off into the house, making his way towards the bar area in the living room where he could do as he had been instructed.

 

At home I was always Harriet, never Harry, unless we had guests of course, and I carefully slipped the wide silver cuff bracelet with my female name on it onto my left wrist.  I wasn’t allowed to be without it in the house; it was, I had been told, a constant reminder of who and what I was.

 

Although both John and I answered to Miss Samantha, I also answered to John, in fact in the house he was, as I said before, Sir or Master John at all times.

 

Miss Samantha reached over and cupped my genitals in her hand. My balls were heavy with spunk and hung down below the ring of the chastity belt. I hadn’t been allowed to cum in over a week and I was getting desperate.

 

“Please, Miss Samantha, please, let me cum tonight. Please.” I mumbled my words as her hand gently manipulated my balls, causing me to break out into a light sweat.

 

“I am sorry, my dear boy, but I can’t hold a conversation out here in this smelly garage. We’ll go into the house and you can show me your cute little arse as we do so.” Miss Samantha slapped my backside hard as she spoke and I mumbled my reply.  

I too fell to my knees now that I had been given permission to enter her home and as I crawled along in front of her she used a rattan cane she had picked up to whack my arse with.

 

In the lounge Master John had finished preparing his mistress’s drink and was now on his knees in front of the bar. I crawled over to join him and our different positions in the house became apparent. My Master, although required to kneel, was allowed to look his wife in the eye. He didn’t have to keep his head lowered at any time, whereas I was only allowed to look at either of them when I was given permission.

 

The other differences were in our dress. John’s nipple rings, gold like mine, also had diamonds adorning them whereas mine were plain. His panties were extremely expensive, designer label items, in fact the thong he was wearing had cost a little over a hundred dollars from an American site on the Internet, whereas mine, although very pretty, were from Marks and Spencer and cost under a tenner for two pairs.

 

Miss Samantha picked up her drink from the bar and took a sip.

 

“Delicious, my darling. Thank you.” She smiled at her husband and then placed a finger under his chin. “You may stand, my sweet, tonight we will work together.”

 

With a smile Master John got to his feet, carefully removed his beautiful underwear and then waited while his wife removed his chastity belt. His cock, suddenly free of its restraints, became semi erect immediately and I watched in envy as Miss Samantha ran her beautifully manicured, blood red nails up and down the shaft, slowly manipulating and teasing until its full eight inches bobbed impressively in front of me.

 

“Now, Harriet, I need to go and change, you can ask your question when I return. John, I don’t want you to cum yet, but you may play with your other toy.” Miss Samantha smiled and kissed him gently on the lips. It was clear that tonight he was her equal and that I was to be used and abused by them both.

 

“Yes, Miss Samantha.” John still wasn’t allowed to drop all formality, but it was a small price to pay for the freedom he would enjoy and I knew he didn’t mind in the slightest. We both watched as his wife and my Mistress left the room, her hips swaying and her hair doing the same.

 

John moved closer to me, his cock waving in front of me.

 

“Suck it.” He moved it even nearer and I willingly opened my mouth to do as I was told. The heat and hardness made my own cock throb even more in its restraint and as I began to lick and slurp on him I tried to forget my own problems.

 

I was the middle child of three and my father had been unemployed for years. There was very little money spent on us at Christmas, but in John’s house it was completely different.

 

There was a beautiful tree outside on the porch, a small one in the front hall and an enormous one in the lounge. The presents, all gift wrapped in gold and purple or silver and red looked as if an interior designer had carefully positioned them.

 

John’s parents had welcomed me with open arms, delighted that their son had a friend at last and more than happy to include me in their celebrations.

 

We had gone upstairs to unpack and I saw John’s mother enter his room to do that chore for him. Once I heard her leave again I went along to his room and tapped on the door.

 

“So, mummy’s boy, is all your stuff put neatly away?”

 

“Yes, Sir, would you like me to come and do yours now?”

 

I nodded, the thought of controlling John in his own home was a delicious one and I was determined to make an early start with it. We walked together back along the hallway, which was wide and covered with a deep cream carpet. There were balustrades, which covered the entire length and then went down the stairs to the ground floor. A child’s dream, unless that child was John, I was certain he had never slid down them and enjoyed the exhilarating freedom.

 

As soon as we were inside my room I pushed John against the door and began to kiss him grabbing at his cock at the same time and feeling it harden. Usually he couldn’t get enough of me, but I knew that in his parents’ house his feelings would be different and I wanted him to know I was still in charge. The defining of our relationship had taken place over the three months we had known each other, gradually I had shown John that his place was below me, or under me and he had agreed.

 

“Please, Sir, not here. What if my parents find out?” John blurted the words out as soon as our lips parted.

 

“Well, you’ll just have to be careful won’t you?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” John mumbled the words as he began opening my suitcase and taking the items out. He had packed it too, a task that I especially liked to see him do as he had been totally unable to achieve it when he first arrived.

 

Once the job was done I sat on my bed and undid my jeans.

 

“Now, before we go back downstairs, I think I need you to suck my cock.”

 

“Yes, Sir.” John immediately fell to his knees before me and took my dick into his mouth. I wasn’t hard but as he began to lick and suck me I began to get bigger and firmer and his hand began to fondle my balls as well.

 

“Oh yes, you little slut, don’t stop, you are so fucking good at this.” I only ever swore when I was having sex, and it was true John was the best cocksucker I had met, he could make me cum or keep me waiting, and then he would swallow every last drop.

 

“Now … ohhhh, you little whore, now, arghhh!” My cum shot out and into his mouth. He knew better than to swallow it right away and as I pumped it out he kept it in his cheeks until, finally sated, I pulled my cock free and told him to open wide. All my spunk was there, resting on his tongue and then down beside his teeth. I looked at him and nodded and he closed his mouth. When he opened it again all of it had disappeared.

 

“Good boy, now we had better go and see your mum and dad.”

 

“But, Sir. What … what about me?” I could see his cock tenting his pants, he was bigger than me and when he was hard there was no mistaking it.

 

“We don’t have time now, you’ll just have to wait until later.” I reached over and slapped my hand against his hard on and watched him fall to the floor. “Oh, for goodness sake, get up!” Reaching over I grabbed him by the hair. He was my cock slave, and I had no intention of him forgetting it while we were at his house.

 

John leant over and began pulling on my nipple rings, twisting them and making my eyes water. I didn’t want to stop sucking him, but he was hurting and in the end I had to cry out.

 

“Arghhh, please, Master, no.”

 

“You don’t want to be my toy? Ok, I’ll leave you alone. After all, I’m not the one in trouble. What do you think Miss Samantha will say if I tell her you made me stop?”

 

He was right, it was my place to entertain him, Miss Samantha had said he could play with me, and I wasn’t willing.

 

“I’m sorry, Sir, please, play with me, I am yours to do with as you wish.” It hadn’t always been that way, he used to be mine, but things had changed, we were both Miss Samantha’s but I was Master John’s as well. My change of heart made him smile and he sat down on one of the soft and comfortable chairs that were spread out around the room.

 

“Come here, boy.” I did as I was told, not wanting him to get mad at me. He was as submissive as I had discovered I was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a mean streak in him, and I knew he enjoyed punishing me just as much as his wife did.

 

Master John reached over the side of the chair and picked up a pale coloured dildo that had been half hidden by the deep pile of the carpet.

 

“I think you know what I want you to do with this.” I nodded. His own cock was still hard and I knew that as he watched me it would only get more engorged and far more difficult for me to take my eyes off.

 

“What do you want, slut?” Master John spoke softly, but there was force behind his words and I swallowed hard. It was always far harder for me to tell him what I needed, because he always knew when I kept things back, when I didn’t bare my soul. Now though he wasn’t interested in my real needs, only his, and what he wanted me to do for him. One of his turn ons was begging, either doing it himself or having me do it for him.

 

“Nothing, Master, I want for nothing.” His hand struck me across the face and I felt the mark instantly rise on my cheek.

 

“Wrong answer, what do you want?”

 

I swallowed hard, I was as turned on as he, the humiliation he was dealing out making my dick throb painfully in my chastity belt and I looked up at him.

 

“Your cock, Sir, please, let your worthless slut suck your big plastic cock and get it ready for my arse.” I could feel tears in my eyes, he knew that the only cock I really wanted to suck was his own, not the fake one that he held in front of me.

 

“You had better take it then, bitch.” I nodded, and slowly opened my mouth, licking my lips as I did so to ease its path.” Master John pushed the phallus in, not slowly, but he didn’t jam it in either. It made its way across my tongue and to the back of my throat where I tried not to gag on it but without success.

 

“Suck it, make it wet, it’s the only lubrication you’ll get.” As he fucked my mouth harder and harder with each stroke I could tell the noises I was making were turning him on even more than usual. His other hand had drifted to his own cock and he was pumping his hand up the length and then over its head before returning to the base and doing it again. I loved to see him wank and I longed to be able to join him.

 

“Well, well, what have we here?” I turned, the movement making the dildo jam even harder against the back of my throat to see Miss Samantha standing in the doorway, her body now encased in leather and silk. “Don’t stop, you look so pretty kneeling there.”  I nodded and continued with my task and then heard the click of a camera and knew that she was recording my predicament for posterity.

 

Master John finally pulled the cock from my mouth, the trail of spittle joining me too it even when I was free. Then he knelt down before me and wiped the phallus off on my hairy chest. Master John was totally shaven on his trunk; even his hair was close cropped. I on the other hand kept the hair on my chest but my cock and balls were soft and bare, as was my arse crack. It had all been removed by electrolysis and so was permanent. The spit glistened on my body and he rubbed it in with his hand.

 

“So, little boy, are you ready to show me what you look like when you are being fucked?”

 

“No, Sir, please. Please don’t put that in me, I’ll do anything else.” This time my begging was real. I hated to be used with the plastic dildo and be nothing but a piece of meat for my beloved John to fuck forever. He got off on the humiliation, as did I, but I would still rather do almost anything else.

 

“Arghhh!” I cried out in pain as his hand reached down and grabbed my cock. The plastic around it cutting into the skin as he manipulated and twisted it.

 

“How long is it since you came?”

 

“A week, Sir, you and Miss Samantha let me cum a week ago in the bath.”

 

“So we did, do you know how many times I’ve cum since then?” Still his hands were on me, but now one of them pulled at a nipple ring while the other kneaded my balls.

 

“No … ohhhh, God, No, Sir.” The feelings were beginning to get to me. His fingers, soft and warm on my skin sent shivers up my spine, and the delicious sensation of my nipple being pulled and twisted drove me mad. “Please, Sir, tell me, tell me about your cum.” If I couldn’t cum then listening to Master John describe his own spunk flying was the next best thing.

 

“Does the little boy want a story?” Miss Samantha had also sat down on the floor, her legs were apart, one of them had been placed behind me and her bare pussy was glistening from her arousal as she watched her husband tease me.

 

“Yes, Miss Samantha, please, I want to listen to Master John, but can I take my cage off? My cock needs to be free, Mistress.”

 

“Your what?” Mistress Samantha leaned across and grabbed my nipple and pinched it hard.

 

“Ohhhh, sorry, Mistress, please, free my little dickie, so I can enjoy Master John’s story so much more.” I wasn’t as big as my friend, but at just under seven inches I wasn’t small either. I wasn’t allowed to call it a cock when Miss Samantha was present, and she knew the other name caused me no end of shame.

 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” The smirk told me she was enjoying herself no end.

 

“Please, Miss Samantha, can your slut boy have his dickie free while Master John tells him a story?” I was still on my knees and I lowered my head to the floor in supplication, and felt her hand caress my butt.

 

“Such a lovely arse, but so pale. How many strikes of my cane will you take to have your dickie free Harriet, five, ten, fifteen? And how long will Master John fuck you for when he is done?”

 

I swallowed hard, not only did the strikes hurt but they made me so excited that I knew if I asked for too many I would shoot my load as soon as the cage was removed.

 

“T … ten, Miss Samantha, I’ll take ten please.”

 

“And the fucking, I think the same number, so ten minutes, at least to start with.”

 

“Yes, Miss Samantha, ten minutes.” I shifted a little; my knees were beginning to hurt, even on the soft carpeting.

 

“You may remain in this position. And count for me.”

 

THWACK

 

There had been no warning and the pain was immediate.

 

“Ohhhhh, one, thank you, Miss Samantha, please may I have another?”

 

THWACK

 

“T … two, thank you, Miss Samantha, please may I have another?”

 

My forehead was on the ground and so I couldn’t see anything, but as the blows rained down on me and I counted for Miss Samantha I could hear the sound of Master John wanking himself, his hand pumping up and down his cock and between my tears I groaned. My dickie was so hard in its case, so painful and all I wanted was release.

 

THWACK

 

“Ohhhh, thank you, Miss Samantha, for giving me ten smacks with your cane. Please, please, let me free now.”

 

“I suggest you lie out flat on the carpet while I go and get the key, then we can do this.” I immediately did as I was told, I looked over at Master John who was still stroking his rock hard dick, it shone with the pre-cum he had used as lubricant, and as he saw me he raised his fingers and sucked them, causing me to groan out loud again.

 

“Oh, God, Master John, please, let me do that for you.” I knew better than to move from my place, but my mouth was open and my tongue was searching for his fingers.

 

“Very well, slut, you may have a taste. He ran his fingers over his erection again and then let me suck them, as he did so his other hand was getting covered as well, he was so excited he couldn’t leave himself alone.

 

“John, move away.” Miss Samantha’s tone was strict and Master John scuttled backwards.

 

“Yes, Mistress.” His wife moved closer to him and whispered in his ear and then she turned and smiled at me, took my hand and helped me up; she then led me over to the sofa and indicated where I should sit.

 

“I know you won’t want to miss seeing this.” She leant closer and began to kiss me, her tongue teasing mine as she danced with it and then I felt her hands on my nipples. She pulled on the rings, twisting and turning them and then she sucked the left one into her mouth and my cock jerked against its restraints.

 

“Please, Mistress, please, let me free.” I had tears in my eyes now and if I could have moved I would have fallen to my knees again to beg for freedom. My hands were itching to touch my cock, to rub it as Master John had been doing to his. I didn’t know how long I would last, but the chance to cum was so enticing, so wonderful, that the length of time it took was secondary.

 

“When you hold still I will be able to, now, hold still!” Once again Miss Samantha pulled on a nipple ring, but then her hands were gone from my body and I waited, panting with excitement.

 

Miss Samantha was wearing a black and red basque. The black panels were leather, the red silk or satin. The suspenders attached to black sheer stockings and her feet were encased in red patent leather shoes that I knew I would be licking and cleaning later. Around her neck she had a small gold key, which swung as she leant forward. Her breasts, only just tamed by the top of her basque, swayed and I longed to reach out for them as well. The key was inserted into the lock and with a small click I was free.

 

“There you go, what do you say?”

 

“Thank you, Mistress, thank you.” My hands immediately went to my cock, already it was getting hard and I ran my fingers up and down it, loving the feel after a week of denial.

 

 “Now, leave that little thing alone and sit down on the floor. I know you want to watch Master John play with himself while you listen to his story.” Miss Samantha stopped talking and before my cock could get to its full size I watched in horror as she slid a triple cock ring into place. As my dickie engorged I felt the familiar throb and knew that my release would be delayed.

 

“I do believe I told you to sit on the floor.” I did as I was told and leant back against the sofa, my hands immediately returning to where they gave most pleasure as tried to ignore my new restraint.

 

“No, no! I will lock it back up if you don’t behave.” The cane appeared from nowhere and crashed down across my thighs, missing my now rampant dickie by a hair’s breadth and I heard my Mistress speak as I cried out in pain. “John, do you have those drinks?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” My Master disappeared behind the bar and then returned with two wine glasses filled with what looked like champagne.

 

“Good. Harriet, put your hands down on the carpet, palms up. John, you know what to do.”

 

My friend and lover did indeed know what to do. The glasses were placed, one on each of my hands and then he stood up and backed away.

 

“Now, my dear, I think you should start with how you were allowed to cum all over my breasts after I had sucked you and sucked you until I tasted your spunk in my mouth.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” Master John’s eyes lit up and I groaned out loud. Miss Samantha only sucked my cock on my birthday. Master John did it more often, but I wasn’t ever allowed to shoot my load over my Mistress’s breasts.

 

“Oh, and Harriet, if you spill one drop out of either glass you will be tied and thrashed and then your little dickie will be locked up for another week, do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” I couldn’t believe it. My cock was right there, free and so full of cum, and I couldn’t even touch it. I swallowed a sob and began to listen trying to ignore the throbbing and the inevitability of my disgracing myself before very much longer.

 

TBC

 

The story telling went on for over an hour. Miss Samantha had relented a little after twenty minutes and removed the glasses from the palms of my hands. She and Master John then drank the champagne, and she played with his cock, holding his full balls in her hands and dribbling the fizzing liquid over the glistening head of his dick before licking it back up. I had managed to restrain myself while they enjoyed themselves and kept my hands at my sides. My reward meant that my mistress had kissed me on the lips and sucked at my nipples while one of her hands, with its long red nails, ran up and down my now rock hard cock.

 

For the remainder of the hour, as I lay on the floor, she knelt above me and rested herself on my head, her pussy covering my mouth, my nose in the crack of her arse, and I had licked and sucked her to many orgasms. She seemed to know when I was getting panic stricken due to lack of oxygen and would hold herself in position just a few seconds longer than I thought I could bear before raising herself slightly and laughing as I took great gulps of air into my agonized lungs. All this time I knew, however much she was enjoying herself, she was watching me and so I was unable to touch myself and get any relief at all. It didn’t stop her from teasing me though, cupping my balls or flicking the head of my dick and enjoying seeing me squirm.

 

The sexy tales Master John was telling me, of how Miss Samantha had placed him over the bedroom stool, his hands on his head while the very dildo that I had worshipped, and yet been terrified of, had been fucked in and out of his arse, meant I was so desperate to cum myself that I knew it would take very little to set me off.

 

~*~

 

“Thank you, my darling, that was wonderful, don’t you think, Harriet?” Miss Samantha had moved away from me now and I was back on my knees.

 

“Yes, Mistress, I enjoyed it very much.” My hands were in front of me; my Master had positioned them there at the end of his tale. My little dickie was cupped in my palms, but still I wasn’t allowed to touch it, or even move my fingers.

 

“You know, I don’t think he is telling the truth, your stories were extremely erotic and all he can say is that he enjoyed them. You aren’t having a very good day are you, bitch? I think you will need to be punished for the mess at breakfast, your tardiness in the office as well as this.” Miss Samantha suddenly looked very cross with me and I felt my heart sink.

 

“Please, Miss Samantha, I’m sorry about everything that has happened today, I truly am.” I turned my head so I faced my Master, but still didn’t make eye contact with him. “Please, Master John, your stories were wonderful, I want to cum; to play with my little dickie and let my spunk shoot out, and it’s all because of your stories. Please, Sir, Mistress, please let your worthless slave cum.” I crawled over to first my Master and then my Mistress and kissed their toes, hoping to show them how apologetic I truly was before returning to my original position. My cock was straining and throbbing in my hands now and I wanted so much to at least touch it but I knew better.

 

“I think, my worthless boy, you are forgetting something.” Miss Samantha grabbed both my nipples in her fingers and pulled on them hard.

 

“Arghhh, please, Mistress, no, please.” The rings made the agony twice as bad and I wracked my brain to try and see what it was that had slipped my mind.

 

“John, come here and remind him.” My Master did as he was bid and stood beside my Mistress. One hand reached down and began to pull hard on his cock and then he caught the pre-cum glistening on its end and began to lubricate the dildo he held in his other hand with it.

 

“Oh, my God, no, please, no.” I knew, in my desperation, I had agreed to be violated with this thing, I had even set a time limit of ten minutes, but the stories had been so tempting, so sexy, that now, even though I would beg to be excused, the punishment was becoming secondary to my other needs. I was desperate to cum and the humiliation and sensations Master John would cause were soon going to send me over the edge into pleasure and pain and I knew I would be begging again, but this time for release.

 

The occasional table next to Miss Samantha’s armchair had been bought specifically for the job it was about to do. It was exactly the right height, when I leant over it, for my cock and balls to rest against the side while my arse was available for whoever decided to use it. I was instructed to crawl over towards this table and then assume the position. As I did so I saw Miss Samantha kiss Master John lovingly on the lips, one hand rubbing his hard cock whilst the other gently teased his butt cheeks and he tenderly placed his head against her breasts as he began kissing them. I moaned aloud; just once I wished she would treat me that way, be kind, loving and sensual with me, but I also knew that even if she did, in the end I would be begging for her to hurt me, to take me hard, and humiliate me in any way she chose.

 

“My little Harriet, you will be delighted to know I have my camcorder set up. Why should we give you all this pleasure and not be able to show our friends later?”

 

“Thank you, Miss Samantha, your slut is honoured you would share me in this way.” I swallowed hard. While the thought of being watched as a home grown porn star was deliciously exciting I knew the type of friends who would view it would also want use and abuse me for their own pleasure and satisfaction once the film was done. My cock grew harder as I thought about some of the people who would see the show. Two of them, Rick and Jordan, who had been at uni with my Master and I, had a slightly more vanilla relationship than us because they were gay to our bi. Both were over six feet tall, had beautiful bodies and their cocks were to die for. If they got excited by the film who knew what could happen? They had borrowed me in the past and I had suffered excruciating and exhilarating humiliation at their hands.

 

Master John walked slowly over to me knowing I was watching his every move. He had a cock ring of his own on now and his stiff member waved from side to side with each step he took and I wanted to grab hold of it, take it into my mouth and suck hard.

 

“Open wide.” He thrust his dick towards me and, after straightening my back and moving a little way from the table, I did as it was told willingly. I knew he wouldn’t cum, not yet, but the chance to serve him was too good to refuse.

 

“Yes, Master.” I rested him on my tongue before gently sliding my mouth over the head of his cock. There had been a time when I wouldn’t have done this, but that was long past. The first time he had taken me I had known I was a bottom, a sub, at heart and my whole life since that day had been one of submission to my Master and then later to my Mistress as well.

 

“First of all I think he should wear these.” Miss Samantha had moved closer to me again while I had been servicing my Master and I saw she had a pair of leather wrist restraints in her hands. “We don’t want you playing with your little dickie while this is going on, do we?”

 

I looked up at my Master’s face as I continued to suck him and waited for permission to move away. Slowly he nodded his head and then took a step backwards. His beautiful member bobbed against my cheek for a moment before he pushed my head down against the table and pulled my hands behind me.

 

“No, Miss Samantha.” My heart sank. I had been hoping to at least touch myself and introduce some pleasure along with the pain, but obviously that wasn’t to be. I stayed in the awkward position my Master had put me in, head down, butt upwards and waited patiently while I was restrained.

 

“Please, Mistress, could I have my hands in front of me?” My voice was a little muffled by the table, but Miss Samantha knew just what I had said.

 

“Oh, my dear little slave, no, no, no, behind you, where we can see them.” Miss Samantha nodded in Master John’s direction and he immediately pinned my wrists together where he had placed them in the small of my back and I felt the cuffs being put on.

 

“Now, make yourself comfortable over the table, slut, and we can begin.” Master John’s cock had, if anything, got even harder and glistened now with my saliva as I nodded meekly. He was relishing his time in control, as I would have done if it had been me. I watched, once I returned to my original position, as Miss Samantha began to play with her husband’s cock and knew that part of my humiliation would be to stay in position while they fucked each other in front of me. As they began to kiss I let my mind wander, remembering again how I had got where I was today.

 

Christmas Day had been a revelation to me, some of it pleasant and some of it not so. My own family had descended on the living room, ripped open any presents that were there and then disappeared off in different directions just as on any other day. John’s parents however, would have none of that.

 

We ate breakfast and then the three of us were expected to prepare all the food for the main Christmas lunch while John’s mother relaxed in the bath. I found myself peeling potatoes and carrots, John’s dad prepared the bird and he did the Brussels sprouts and made the stuffing. Once everything was either ready to be cooked or roasting away nicely in the oven we were finally allowed into the living room where their beautifully decorated tree stood and his mum had settled herself in what was obviously her chair. Glasses of champagne were handed out and toasts drunk before, one by one, the presents were opened, admired and noted down. The latter for thank you letters I was informed.

 

John had bought three presents for me, and I had two for him. To my surprise his parents had also placed a small gift under the tree with my name on and I stammered out my shocked thanks to them once I had unwrapped it. We were then left to our own devices until lunch was ready. Apparently the rest of that chore would be down to John’s dad who would cook, carve and serve. John and I would be expected to wash up and tidy afterwards.

 

I retired to my room and saw John going into his. After five minutes, which was enough time, I figured, for him to relax and feel comfortable, I went and banged on his door.

 

“Come out, you little slut, my cock wants its Christmas gift.”

 

John appeared, somewhat sheepishly, and nodded.

 

“Yes, Master.” I took his hand and pulled him back to my room where I stood, my back towards the now closed door, and began to speak again.

 

“Strip me down and then remove your own clothes. But don’t you touch yourself, otherwise I may not let you cum until next Christmas, understand, wimp?”

 

“Yes, Master.” John nodded his head and then began to unbutton my shirt. In less than two minutes we were both totally naked and John was on his knees with my cock in his mouth.

 

“What is going on here?” The voice behind us almost scared me half to death. I hadn’t been listening for anyone outside the door and neither had John. He shot to his feet, his hands going to cover his genitals as he looked up in horror at his mother. Then, as if realizing his place, he fell to the floor before her and began babbling about forgiveness and how sorry he was.

 

If I had thought John’s mother was in control downstairs, up here, with my friend powerless before her, she was clearly to be obeyed and feared. Taking a handful of her son’s hair in her hand she pulled him into a semi- upright position, and then grasped him tightly under the chin.

 

“As soon as I let go you will get up. Both of you will then go down into the living room where this will be sorted out.” I reached for my underpants but John’s mother, finally releasing her son, grabbed me by the ear. “Oh no, if you can expose yourself in my bedrooms you can do the same downstairs, now, get.”

 

I instinctively knew better than to argue and, with my head hung and my hands trying to cover myself, I let the dominant woman lead me, still by the ear, out onto the landing and then down the stairs wondering all the time what was going to happen next.

 

“Malcolm, come in here please.” Her voice had returned to its normal quiet and refined levels, which, if anything, scared me even more. Her husband, now, to my surprise, wearing nothing but a pinny, scuttled out of the kitchen and followed us back into the room where only a short while earlier we had all been having such an enjoyable time.

 

“Harry, perhaps you would tell John’s father and myself what you were doing upstairs.” The whole atmosphere had changed, I was on trial, guilty until proven innocent, but I also didn’t know what the hell was going on. John’s father was naked, he obviously deferred to his wife, as did my best friend. I had no idea what to do or say next.

 

“I … we … it was like …” I stammered and stuttered, trying to work out how to get myself out of this mortifying situation and then, to my surprise and further humiliation, I felt my cock beginning to enlarge between my clasped hands.

 

“He wanted me to suck him off and then he was going to fuck my arse. If I did that and did it well he would let me cum too. He does it to me all the time. I have to call him Master or Sir, when we’re alone.” John had no such worries about telling his parents what happened and, even though I knew I was in big trouble, still my dick stayed hard, not as hard as it could get, but then I had hardly touched it.

 

“I see. How do you feel about this, John? Do you want to be Harry’s slave? I’ve always found you a little more strong willed than that.” His mother was standing up now and I could see that she was flushed. It was apparent from this and the tent in John’s dad’s pinny that they were enjoying my discomfort.

 

“I … I don’t have much choice, but I would rather it was a woman telling me what to do, then Harry could be to me what I am to dad.” The smiles on his parents’ faces told me that although I had no idea what he was talking about they were both very pleased to hear him say it.

 

“What would happen if I found you forcing your father to suck you off, John?” His mother’s hand began to caress the belt she had around her waist. It was a plain band of leather but there were long tassels at the end of it. I wanted to ask her to repeat the question; John’s father sucked him off? How could that be? But the image it produced in my mind, with me watching was exciting and forbidden and I longed to know more.

 

“You would have dad spank me, and then you would spank dad for being weak and … and …” John stopped talking, the blush rising from his chest to his hairline as he searched for the words to speak.

 

“And then you would have to cum into your little hand and lick it all up, isn’t that so, John?”

 

“Yes, Mistress Mummy, that is so.”

 

My cock was so hard now that I could feel it pulsating behind my own hands. Part of me was terrified but the rest of me wanted the punishment to be dished out and for me to be a spectator. To my barely concealed delight, initially, it appeared as if that was what was going to happen but in the end it was far more mind blowing than that.

 

“Harry, I think you had better come over here. John, this is your show now.” The woman my friend called Mistress Mummy moved towards me menacingly and I felt myself go cold. “However, it will be your father who will deal with you.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am, thank you.” John had moved over to one of the dining chairs and sat down, then he had indicated that I should join him.

 

“Lay yourself over my lap, your palms should be on the floor.”

 

“No way! You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you touch me again do you?” Suddenly I was angry, I hadn’t done anything wrong, I was gay, and so was their son, if they couldn’t handle it inside their strange family group then tough.

 

“Oh, I think you will reconsider, young man. My son may only be a first year student but you are half way through your second year. Are you really willing to give all that up?”

 

“What? No, of course not, but then my education is hardly an issue here.” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with an almost total stranger who was the only person in the room fully clothed.

 

“I beg to differ.” Mrs Downley moved across the room until she was standing right in front of me. She then picked up the tassels of her belt and, moving my hands away, ran them across my hard penis. “How do you think your dean will feel when I call to complain about you raping your room-mate? I would think you would be sent packing before the turkey was gone from his plate.”

 

I was no longer angry now instead I was panicking. A bluff is a bluff, but there was no doubt this lady meant business. I thought of my parents, their Christmases may stink but they were good, hard working people and not only were they very proud of me, they had given up a lot to get me to uni. I couldn’t let them down, not in this way.

 

“What, what do you want me to do?” John’s mother placed her hand under my chin in the same way she had with her son earlier and I looked up into her unflappable but furious face and swallowed hard. “I … I’m sorry, I will leave right away, please, please, don’t call the dean.”

 

“You will not leave, you will take your punishment like the man you purport to be. Then when that is done, you and my son will have a talk about how your relationship is going to go from now on. Is that clear?” The belt was being stroked across my cock and balls again and I was getting harder and harder. I felt like a moth at a flame, I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her face, nor could I step back from her tantalizing teasing. She had me, and she knew it.

 

“Walk over to my son and assume the position he instructed you to take.” I tried to put my hands back over my genitals but this only made Mrs Downley angrier.

 

“Oh, for goodness sake, we all know you are turned on, young man, just do it.” John’s mother was in control of me now and so I hurried to do as I had been told. My cock was hard and sticking out angrily. I so wanted to touch it, but I had an awful feeling that would be part of my later punishment.

 

I made myself as comfortable as I could over John’s knees, feeling his own cock rub up my thigh as mine did the same to him, still not believing I was willingly going through with this. Well, as willingly as any blackmail victim does things.

 

“Have you ever been spanked before?” John’s voice was different, no longer was he the submissive half of our partnership, and although I wasn’t sure about anything that was happening to me I felt a change come over me as I replied.

 

“No, Master John, never.” I saw both of his parents smile as I spoke, it was clear that the title was acceptable to them.

 

“Well, for this you will receive fifteen smacks, by hand, and you will thank me and beg for more each time. Do you understand?”

 

“No, I won’t do that.” I wriggled and struggled, trying to get free as a small part of me rebelled against my treatment; I handed it out, I didn’t receive it, but all that got me was a hard kick on the shins and the sudden pressure of two sets of hands as they held me down.

 

“Do I need to repeat my instructions for you?”

 

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard before shaking my head. Thanking and begging for punishment had never turned me on before, in fact it had never entered my head as anything other than something I had others do, but now, maybe because I knew I had no choice, I readily agreed. Even so, the words still stuck in my throat and my voice was croaky as I finally replied.

 

“No, Master John, I’m sorry.”

 

“About time.” The voice was hard, and then, as I tensed up,

 

THWACK

 

“Thank you, Master John, please, may I have another?” I had never been smacked as a child and the first slap didn’t really register on my slightly numb brain.

 

THWACK

 

“Ow! Thank you, Master John, please, hit me again.” What was I saying? I didn’t like this, couldn’t possibly like this, but even though it hurt there was a part of me that wanted it to continue.

 

THWACK

 

“Ohhhh,” The third one really hurt and I felt myself tremble. “Please, Master John, hit me harder.” Again I surprised myself, but no one else in the room, that I could see, looked the least bit shocked.

 

John, or Master John as I now seemed to be calling him, had done just as I asked; his hand must have hurt as well by the time we finished. By then, my tears were flowing freely and my sobs made thanking and begging much harder to do.

 

“Sit.” Master John indicated the front door mat, which must have been brought in while I was being punished. It was made of the same material as a hard broom and my tears increased as I did as I was told.

 

John’s father then spanked his son five times. It seemed that because he had carried out his own punishment session so well he had almost escaped being reprimanded at all.

 

“So, boy, let’s see what your little dickie can do, shall we?” Master John was back in control again. His arse wasn’t as red and painful as mine, but I know he had felt his father’s hand. Now he wanted to impress on me that I was the lowest of the low not only in this house but in our relationship as well.

 

“Please, Master John, don’t make me.” I had realised as I watched the second punishment that I was far more turned on than I had ever been as a Dom and I wanted to cum so badly, I wanted to masturbate too, but to start with, for some reason, I needed to beg.

 

“You don’t want to?” A smile flickered over Master John’s face and I shook my head quickly.

 

“No … I mean yes, but … alone, we could do it alone.” I knew that Master John’s relationship with his parents was way different to mine, and I found myself responding to it and wanting to perform for them, but again I wanted to be forced. Now that the first part of my punishment was over I was so sexually excited that I would have suffered it again had they offered.

 

“Hmmm, I don’t know, you don’t sound very sincere to me.” Master John even rubbed his chin, joining in the game, enjoying every moment of it, as were his parents. I could see John’s father was trying to stroke himself without being noticed and his mother was sat now, sliding her hand up her leg beneath her skirt.

 

“Please, Master John, please.” I moved off the painful mat, fell to my knees before him and looked up. “I will cum for you, but not here, please, Sir, let me share this with you alone. Please, I beg you.”

 

My new master crouched down so we were looking into each other’s eyes. He then leant over and kissed me gently on the lips before reaching out and grabbing my testicles.

 

“Arghhh, no, Master, please.” My words ended in a scream as with a final twist of his hand Master John released me, pushing me to the floor as he did so. He was in charge, things would never return to the way they were. With that one act of torture my first and only Master showed me that he was now the boss and, as my eyes filled with tears, I knew I was lost.

 

“No, you little slut, you will not escape. Now, on your knees and begin. And if you are not loud enough, or not enjoying it enough, you will do it again.” Master John picked up the camcorder he had been given for Christmas and, as my hand began to stroke my shaft, he started to film.

 

“Mmmm, ohhh, God.” My moans got louder as I got harder and harder. I had never been quiet when having sex, and I had never wanted a quiet partner either. Now though, in this position, kneeling in the middle of a strange living room with my Master and his parents watching me, I was so turned on I couldn’t have kept quiet if my life depended on it. My cock was slick with pre-cum as my hand slid up and down it, the heat and the friction sending me hurtling towards my goal. “Ohhh, yes, please, Sir, please … may I cum?”

 

“Not yet, I don’t think you have played long enough, you will carry on a little while more.”

 

I was so close, I had never stopped myself from cumming before and in the end the only think I could think of to prevent the inevitable was to slow everything down.  I grasped my dick hard at the base and stopped all other movement for a moment until I felt the urgency disappear.

 

“Good boy, now bring yourself to the brink again.” Master John smiled at me and I felt my heart swell along with my cock, all that mattered at that moment was pleasing him.

 

“Yes, Master.” It was a good job I’d been told to stay on my knees because I knew my legs wouldn’t hold me any other way. I pumped at my cock, lubricating it again and moving faster and faster until I was ready to explode.

 

“Master, please.”

 

“Please what? Be clear, my little slut, or I won’t know what you are talking about!”

 

“Cum, Master, please, let me cum.” The words came out as a sob; I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop, not again.

 

“Very well. You may cum, but catch it, because you will lick it all up from wherever it falls.”

 

“Arghhh!” My cry was loud and urgent and, although I tried, the first two spurts from my dick shot away across the floor before I could get a hand up to catch them. The rest of my spunk I managed to gather up but my body was wracked with convulsions from my climax and as I fell in a heap, shaking and crying, it slid onto the beautiful wooden floor beside me and waited for me to swallow it down.

 

My Master gave me a minute or two to get myself back under control before reminding me with a hard smack on my bottom about the clean up job. Once I had licked it all up and shown my audience the white cream resting on my tongue I was told to swallow. I had never done so before but now was willing to try anything. I then opened my mouth again and when Master John saw it was empty he sent me to my room and told me to await him there.

 

I knew I shouldn’t think back, it only got me excited, and in my current predicament that wasn’t a good idea. Miss Samantha and Master John were kissing again, although I knew they would soon be returning to the table. As I tried to change my position a little my beautiful Mistress looked over at me.

 

“Ahhh, my sweet slut, anxious to get started are we?” She picked up the dildo and walked towards me. Its pale colour matched her skin tones almost exactly and she often used it with a strap to fuck both Master John and I. Tonight though it was only me and I knew my arse would get undivided attention.

 

“It appears your little toy has dried out while we’ve been busy. Do you want to suck it and make it wet again, or should we use it this way?”

 

“Let me suck it, Mistress, please.” I opened my mouth in readiness and, with a light laugh, Miss Samantha fed the huge beast between my teeth. She kept going until I was gagging with the feel of the plastic against the back of my throat and then she began to move it in and out all the while using her other hand to flick and pinch my nipples, which she knew would drive me closer and closer to an early ejaculation. The noises I was forced to make as my throat was violated were obviously turning my Master on because he stood next to his wife and Mistress slowly stroking his cock and I wished with all my heart that I was going to take that instead of this impostor.

 

“Very well, bitch, I think we’re ready.” The spittle left my mouth in a long string still attached to the phallus and Miss Samantha rubbed it onto the plastic.

 

“Thank you, Mistress, for letting me suck your cock.”

 

My Mistress laughed and then turned to her husband.

 

“My dear, I think this is yours.” She handed it to Master John and then sat in front of me on the chair, her legs wide and her shaved pussy glistening and swollen with arousal.

 

I felt Master John slide his tongue down the crack between my cheeks before concentrating on my tight little hole. He licked and sucked on it before rolling his tongue and beginning to force it inside.

 

“Ohhh.” I couldn’t help myself, the sensations were wonderful, and when my Master did this to me I would agree to do anything in return.  I felt him blow against my skin for a moment and then he was gone and in his place was his thumb which he not so gently inserted into my anus. My muscles tried to resist but suddenly he was in me and found myself pushing back against him. He then spat on my skin and I heard him suck his fingers before pushing in another digit and spreading my hole wide.

 

“Arghhh, please, Master, please, now, let me feel you in me, please.” I hoped if I pleaded he would relent and fuck me himself, but instead I felt the head of the large intruder, which was going to be in me for at least ten minutes.

 

“Relax, then we will both enjoy it.” His hand eased around to my front and I moved away from the table a bit. His fingers, which had just been stroking the inside of me, now caressed my little dickie and as I revelled in that pleasure he pushed hard on the dildo and I felt my anus resist again before suddenly letting it in.

 

“Urghhh, please, Master.” His fingers still played with me as gradually he pushed more and more of the phallus in. The fake balls at the end finally touched my skin and I knew it was all the way inside. As soon as that happened he let go of my cock and began to slowly take the dildo back out again. Then, with a slap on my arse, he forced it back in, it was only an inch or two but it pushed me against the table and I cried out with the pain and pleasure of it all.

 

Miss Samantha was now running her fingers into her pussy and the noise of her arousal was turning me on more and more. The entire dildo was lubricated and sliding in and out with more ease than before and suddenly I knew I could take it in silence no longer.

 

“Oh yes, yes, Sir. Fuck me, fuck your little bitch hard!” Part of the loathing was the knowledge that this piece of plastic could turn me into the wanton slut my master knew I was. Now, as he did as he had been asked and pummelled my arse with the monster I curled my restrained hands into fists and cried out again.

 

“More, Sir, more.”

 

“Like this, you cockslut?” My own cock slammed against the table, my balls banging against the edge of the wood over and over and I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. 

 

“Oh, God, Sir, Madam, now, please, let me cum now.”

 

“No, my little whore, you may not.” The dildo was pulled further and further out of me and I waited for it to be pushed back in but instead I was left feeling empty and gaping.

 

“Sir, no, please, I need to cum.” I wanted to cry but then I felt my Master’s hands on my hips and instead of the cold plastic the heat of his own cock warmed my body as he pushed it inside of me.

 

“Oh yes, Sir, yes, fuck me with your big hard prick.” I humped backwards as my Master forced himself inside me, his balls slapping against my skin and his hands holding me in place. Hard and fast he reamed my arse until suddenly, without warning he began to grip me even tighter.

 

“Cum, slut, show me your cum, now, arghhh!” Master John loosened his grasp on me and, grabbing my hair to pull me back from the table, jammed into me one last time. I roared out my release and the spunk shot across the surface, once, twice, three times as my eyes rolled back and I saw the power and ecstasy in my Master’s face as I felt him fill my arse with his own load.

 

As soon as we stopped shooting he let go of my hair and I collapsed back across the table. My cum was in my face, on my chest and stomach but I didn’t care. He had fucked me, hard, and I had loved it. I couldn’t have been happier.

 

T.B.C.