"Ok John," Sarah replied as she hung up the phone.
"That one," Sarah asked in disbelief?

"Yeah, you made it, so keep it and give it to someone else," John returned.

"Oh...," Sarah muttered--her feelings slightly hurt. Then remembering her purpose with the task at hand she positively remarked, "Ok."

Sarah proceeded next to turn around and bend over so both guys could take in her perfectly round ass. John's favorite position used to be from the back with her legs inside his so she could just squeeze it out of him. Sarah took off the shoes and then opened a new box.

"Actually, I think these will look the best," Sarah stated leaning on the wall with one hand and bringing her foot up to the other. She delicately placed a brand new pair of black patent leather pumps on that had to be almost 5 inches tall. They also had the pointiest toe John had ever seen. John immediately felt something move in his pants, but was interrupted in thought by Scott.

"Not to be too forward or anything, but...um...well, how should I phrase it," Scott stumbled over his words.

"Go ahead," Sarah encouraged, almost seeming to know what Scott would ask.

"Did you change something about yourself," Scott then asked?

Sarah gave a sexy little grin and touched the sides of her bob. "Yeah, do you like my new haircut."

"Uh-er, yeah, it's nice," Scott continued, "but I was talking about that." As Scott said this he unmistakably looked right at Sarah's cleavage. Sarah laughed and cupped her breasts in both hands, giggling them slightly.

"Oh these," she replied, "let's just say they're upgrades."

"Puuuhhhlease," Scott interrupted, "that's just one of those new bras or something. They make all girls look like that."

"Oh yeah," Sarah said reaching out and grabbing one hand from each boy. She them cupped them to her breasts and over her nipples, "I'm not even wearing a bra." As she said this she threw John's hand down but let Scott's stay there a little longer before placing it at his side.

"Scott," John said forcefully, "go down to the store and get us a 12-pack for later."

"Huh," Scott questioned?

"You heard me. I said go down to the store and get a 12-pack for later." John was now motioning with both his head and eyes for Scott to leave.

"But we can just pick it up when we l—..."

John interrupted him, "Go get it now!"

"Ok," Scott obeyed. Then he turned to Sarah, "Well, uh, I guess I'll see u in a bit then."

"Guess so," Sarah replied. And then silence permeated through the entire apartment until Scott closed the door as he was leaving.

"What in the hell are you doing" John demanded?

"What," Sarah replied innocently as she sarcastically batted her eyes?

"You know damn well what," John continued.

"You mean you don't approve," Sarah continued. But before John could reply she began again, "Last time I checked I don't need your approval for anything."

John suddenly changed his voice like he had dozens of times before when they argued. He held out his hands to her sides and cocked his head slightly to the side before raising his eyebrows and saying, "Babe, please. Come on. Look, I'm sorry. I said a lot of things I didn't mean before. Just please, let's give this another chance. I can't handle this."

Sarah crossed her arms, "Handle what?"

"This," John started to raise his voice but kept it in check. "All of this," he motioned up and down her body with his hand. "You know this is my fantasy and you never dressed up like this for me. Please baby, even if we don't stay together, please, let's just have one last time. You know that's how couples do it right? After they break up they still get together one last time," John relayed almost as a question.

Sarah then took his hands and lifted up the bottom of her dress, "You mean you can't handle my legs being this smooth?" With that she grazed his fingertips on her smooth and lotioned thigh allowing him to feel she had on no undergarments. "Or would it be this that you can't handle," Sarah again asked as she took the same hand and placed it on her cleavage. "Or maybe this," she mused as she took his middle finger and put it in her mouth, sucking slightly and twirling her tongue around it as she withdrew to leave a stained red color on his finger.

"Oohohh," John grunted as he noticeably grew a bulge in his pants.

"So how are the boys," Sarah asked as she placed her delicate newly-manicured fingertips on his crouch and massaged him slightly. "Bet they could really use some release, huh" Sarah asked, backing her ass up into him forcefully?

"Uh-huh," John replied with something akin to the voice one might use with a baby or young puppy.

Abruptly, Sarah then withdrew herself from him, "Well, you gave it all up about 6 weeks ago if I'm not mistaken."

John got down on his knees. "Please Sarah, Please! I'll do anything. I just have to have you right now; like this. I promise I'll do anything."

"Anything," Sarah repeated with an evil grin on her face?

Without hesitation John answered, "Anything!"

Sarah cocked her head to the side and thought for a brief moment before continuing, "Ok, you're on. But you have to do exactly as I say. And if you do, I can promise I'll make you feel better than you ever have before."

"Oh god, yes," John replied motioning his hands together vertically as if thanking a deity in prayer.

"Why don't you lie on the bed then," Sarah began.

John didn't respond but rather quickly jumped on the bed with his shoes on which had always been a pet peeve of Sarah's. She glanced at his shoes and he instantly took them off throwing them to hit the door while rolling his eyes, "Oh yeah, right."

Sarah could feel her heart beat a little faster and a warm feeling inside, knowing that this was the point of no return. She swallowed and thought to herself, "It's now or never." With that she walked around to the front of the bed and climbed on slowly with all fours. She seductively placed her index finger over John's mouth so the tip of her nail fit snuggly in his philtrum. Bringing her lips close to his she licked them and teased him with soft blows. She then went forward to blow ever so lightly on his neck and finally buried her head in his crouch, massaging him firmly and slowly with her head. She could feel his swollen member and even his poor little balls which were filling up with cum. She then asked him to get the lotion from the nightstand saying, "I think these legs could use just a little more moisturizing." Sarah knew John loved to rub lotion on her legs and so she leaned back and placed her feet in his crouch. He could feel her smooth shins and calves and admire the silky nature with which they had been painstakingly shaved.

"Oh wow honey," John began, "I don't ever remember them being this smooth. And where did you get this lotion? They're so shiny."

Sarah replied haphazardly, "Oh, I dunno...it was on sale at the market."

As John worked his way up to her knees she began to fondle his balls with her toes, curling them around him and kneading his sac softly. John just grunted in pleasure as he finished her legs and then looked at her chest.

"Oh, you wanna feel these," Sarah asked?

"Mmm-hmm," John responded again in a baby voice while nodding his head up and down.

"Ok," Sarah said, "but remember I'm going out so I don't want to have to put all this back on. You can feel them through my dress." Not about to argue John cupped her newly acquired boobs in his hands and squeezed while rotating them. Her tits were still very soft, but there was a welcomed firmest they now had which John was surprised to find he preferred.

After a little more fondling, Sarah told John to lay on his back and relax. She pulled off his socks and his pants, along with his boxers. John responded by pulling off his shirt. She dragged her nails ever so delicately up and down his legs sending chills down his spine every time she got close to his cock. She then got up between his legs and placed one hand under his balls to hold them while stroking him with the other hand slowly. John's eyes instinctively rolled back into his head and she could feel that he was getting to close so she stopped. She then ran her fingernails up and down his cock as well as lightly raking his balls. Several times she repeated this maneuver of stroking and stopping until finally a small bit of precum formed on the tip.

"Oh," Sarah remarked, "isn't that nice." She took her index finger and slid it around in his pre all over the tip before leaning over some more. She positioned herself to give John a blowjob, but instead put her mouth around his cock about halfway down being careful not to let it touch. He felt the hot air of her breath and she squeezed his balls slightly as if to indicate that he better not move because she was in control. Suddenly she sat back up and moved the hair out of her face.

Detective Frank Sturgess scratched his thick gray hair as he studied the report in his hand. He shook his head several times as he read it through. When he was finished, he added it to the mountain of papers strewn across his desktop and fished around until he found a small black cassette.
* * *

Using a pay phone in the library, Patricia Summers telephoned the restaurant to tell them she would not be coming back to work, and made an appointment at a beauty salon near her apartment. Her hair had grown out well since her return to Chicago in December, and she was ready to try something different.

Her third call was to a financial services company on LaSalle Street, confirming her four o’clock meeting with Mr. Arnold Nash. Arnold Nash, a handsome and smooth-talking investment advisor, had become the constant companion of Pat’s former wife. Her appointment was made in the name of Patricia Exman.

Bundling herself up against the sub-zero wind chill, she returned to State Street and headed north towards Talbot’s, which was having one of its blow-out clearances. Soon she would be buying her clothes with the employee discount at Marshall Field’s, but she needed something new for tonight.

She tried on several outfits before selecting a black cocktail dress with a knee-length pleated skirt, drastically marked down. After a few other stops for shoes, lingerie and a little clutch purse, she splurged on a taxi to the salon. Entering with a wind-blown, overgrown shag in her natural brunette, she emerged two hours later a stunning blonde.

* * *

Detective Sturgess had his answer as soon as he resumed listening to the tape.

“September 12, 2001. The subject has been anesthetized and is recovering without complications from a bilateral orchidectomy. I have preserved the scrotum for use as the labia in the patient’s vagina, and I am proceeding with the amputation of the penis and relocation of the urethra at this time. All vital signs are stable.”

Sturgess switched off the machine and reached for the phone. “I need the missing person reports for September 12th.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“What’s so funny.”

“We only had about three thousand missing persons that day, Frank. Where you been?”

“Jesus, you’re right, what was I thinking. You do have the list, thought, right?”

“Sure, Frank, I’ll drop by with one.”

Sturgess realized that he had been so absorbed by the bizarre world of Dr. Vendetta Frankenwiener, he had completely forgotten about the World Trade Center disaster the day before she dictated that entry. What were the chances that one of the persons reported missing that day had in fact wound up in her clutches?

He put on the earphones again and resumed listening. To his surprise, the next entry began as follows:

“October 1, 2001. The patient is beginning to come around. Good morning, Patricia.”

“Where am I?”

“New York.”

“What happened to my voice?”

“Your larynx has been shortened.”

“What? Who are you?”

“I am Dr. Frankenwiener. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, my God. Oh, no.”

“Don’t try to get up. You are very weak.”

“Fuck off. Let me go.”

“Patricia, you have been unconscious for almost three weeks. If you tried to stand up without my help, you would fall down. In a minute, we will get up and try to go for a short walk.”

“Three weeks?”

“Yes. And so much has been accomplished! Your new vagina is healing wonderfully, and the estrogen therapy is going to round out your breasts to beautiful C cups. Your Adam’s apple is gone, you have already noticed your voice, and I even bobbed your nose.”

“Oh, Christ!”

“The estrogen is going to do wonders for your skin, and just yesterday I finished the last of the electrolysis treatments on your face. There is still a little swelling, and your hair is still too short, although it is growing out nicely. In another month, we could enter you in a beauty pageant!”

A stream of obscenities, in the new high-pitched voice of the doctor’s patient, filled Sturgess’s ears until the recorder was switched off. Sturgess continued to run the tape, hoping for more, but it ran silently until the spool ended with a metallic click.

* * *

Pat Summers shaved her legs in her tub, a huge improvement over the grungy bathroom in the hotel room she had been forced to live in after her escape from New York. She patted her smooth skin dry with a new over-sized towel, and after putting on her bra and panties, she stopped to survey her body in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Below her new blonde hairdo, which she had carefully kept dry during her soak in the tub, was a pretty woman’s face, the upturned nose the only change from Patrick Summer’s boyish features.

Her breasts were firm, her ass and hips had rounded out from months of female hormones, and her legs were terrific. When she had been a man, she had fantasized about having a body like this, never really wanting it to happen Now that it was hers, although she hated what had been done to her, she perversely wanted to take her new body for a test drive. To learn if she was capable of loving again, man or woman.

She shimmied into a black camisole and half slip, and dropped her new dress over her shoulders, being careful not to muss her hair. Since she had become a woman, she had learned to put her stockings on after she was dressed, to minimize the risk of running them. After she stepped into her new 3” heels, and applied a final coat of lipstick to her pouting mouth, she stood in front of the full length mirror and stepped back to survey herself. God, she was beautiful.

* * *

Detective Sturgess ran an alpha search on the list of missing persons from September 11, 2001, and then ran it again on a first name basis. There were seventeen Patricks, Patrices, and miscellaneous Pats. After eliminating the firemen, police officers and rescue workers, the list was down to nine. Of these, four had since been identified or turned up. That left five possible suspects.

Sturgess looked at the files for each, trying to imagine them as the person on the tape. Two he ruled out immediately: one weighed over three hundred pounds, and one was Bolivian. Another was sixty-one years old, and Sturgess eliminated him also. That left two possible suspects: Patrick Summers, from Chicago, and Patrick Moynihan, from Morristown, New Jersey. As Sturgess flipped through Moynihan’s file, he read of a cell phone call made by him the morning of September 11th from his office in the North Tower. A bond trader, Moynihan had been trapped above the point of impact, and there was no way he could have escaped. That left Patrick Summers.

* * *

“Mr. Nash, your four o’clock appointment is here.”

Arnold Nash looked up from his Wall Street Journal and scanned his calendar. Patricia Exman. Nash had never met her, and he wasn’t even sure how she had gotten his name and number. Referred by a happy client, he supposed. He straightened his tie in the mirror on the back of his office door, and put on his expensive suit jacket.

He opened his door to come face to face with one of the most striking women he had ever seen. She appeared to be about thirty, and Nash found himself speechless as she reached out with a firm hand and introduced herself. His secretary gave him a knowing smile as he invited his guest to sit down in one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.

“Can I offer you anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be nice.”

“How about a cappuccino or espresso?”

“Cappuccino would be wonderful,” she smiled, as she crossed her elegant legs and sat back in her chair. Nash buzzed his secretary and asked her for two cappuccinos.

“Have you lived in Chicago a long time?”

“No,” she answered. “I came here two years ago after I got married. My husband was from Chicago.”

Nash’s secretary returned with the cappuccinos, and after she left them alone, Nash began to probe. “You said was. Are you still married?”

“No, I left him after eighteen months. The divorce was finalized last week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I came home early one afternoon to find him parading around the bedroom in my panties and stockings.”

“Good Lord!”

She shrugged. “I hope I didn’t shock you, but I thought, if you’re going to be handling my money, we should have no secrets.”

* * *

Sturgess put down Patrick Summers' missing persons file and walked over to the window. Thirty-two years old, he was a financial analyst for a Chicago investment bank. Married with one daughter. Never been in trouble with the law. An upstanding citizen, who had happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time: Summers had flown to New York on September 10, 2001 and checked into the hotel at the World Trade Center. He had been scheduled to meet with New York associates the next day, but after the collapse of the World Trade Center and the evacuation of the financial district, he had never been heard from again.

Sturgess returned to his desk and called Summers’ former employers. No, the head of human resources told him, nobody at the office had talked to Summers after he checked in with his secretary on the afternoon of September 10th. The executor of his estate had petitioned for and obtained a death certificate, and the insurance benefits had been distributed to his widow.

“How much money did she receive?” Sturgess asked.

“Well, of course we have no way of knowing what was in his estate, but his company insurance alone was over two million dollars.” There was another $400,000 in his 401k, which would be distributed through probate.

Sturgess thanked her and hung up. The next call would be more difficult.

* * *

“How much would you like to invest with us?” Nash asked.

Pat had been waiting for this. “In return for keeping quiet, I got a very good settlement. Twelve million dollars.”

“So, you’re rich as well as beautiful. You must be a very popular woman.”

“I haven’t been with a man in over a year,” she sighed. “I’ve even taken up smoking, and right now, I’m dying for a cigarette.” Pat had deliberately scheduled her appointment with Nash at the end of the day, and it was time to set the trap.

“Unfortunately, we are a non-smoking office. Look, it’s almost five o’clock. Can I take you somewhere for a drink? We can continue to talk afterwards.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Anne Summers turned down the evening news and picked up the telephone in the kitchen, where she was preparing a special dinner for her expected guest. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Patrick Summers?”

“Yes, this is Anne Summers.”

“Mrs. Summers, I am sorry to disturb you. My name is Frank Sturgess. I am a detective with the New York Police Department. Is this a bad time?”

“Well, I’m in the middle of fixing dinner right now. But I can talk to you.”

“Thanks, I’ll try to be brief. Mrs. Summers, I know that your husband was reported missing on September 11th of last year, and we still have an open file on him. Just for the record, have you had any contact from him?”

“No.”

“Some of the families of missing persons have been victimized by criminals claiming the identity of people lost in the World Trade Center, you know, to use their credit cards and such. Has there been any unusual activity in that regard?”

“No, all of our accounts were joint accounts, and there hasn’t been anything like that.”

“Has anybody contacted you on behalf of your husband?”

“No. Detective, the last time I talked to the authorities in New York, they told me to assume that my husband was dead.”

Sturgess was ready for this. “Frankly, up until this morning, I would have said the same to you. However, on the same day that your husband disappeared, a man named Pat was abducted in Greenwich Village. Did your husband know a doctor named Vendetta Frankenwiener?”

“Not that I know of. You said abducted. Has he been found?”
“No, but we have reason to believe that this person may still be alive, using a different identity.”

“Is there any chance he could be my husband?”

Sturgess pulled back. The woman’s answers were obviously genuine. If his suspect were indeed Patrick Summers, he had chosen a life of lonely exile, rather than subject his family to what had been done to him.

“No, ma’am, I don’t think so. Let me give you my number anyway, so you can call me if anyone tries to use his name or your accounts. Just as a precaution.”

After he hung up, Sturgess gathered up the file and tossed it onto a corner of his cluttered desk. Maybe Patrick Summers was alive somewhere. If he were ever found, there wasn’t a jury in the country that would convict him for murdering the hideous Dr. Frankenwiener.

What would something like that do to a person, Sturgess wondered. If you survived what Patrick Summers had gone through, what would you be capable of?

* * *

“Two dry martinis,” Nash told the waiter at the exclusive restaurant. He had suggested as an alternative to drinks an early dinner, and she had accepted readily. They sat side by side in a plush leather banquet in a dark corner of the restaurant, and she touched his hand as he lit her cigarette.

“You’re a very beautiful woman.”

“Do you date all your clients?”

“No,” he lied easily. “In fact, this is the first time it’s ever happened.”

The waiter returned with their martinis, and he offered a toast as she studied her menu. “To you, and your new life.” Buddy, if you only knew, Pat thought to herself as they touched glasses. As she sipped her martini, Pat felt his hand touch her knee. Deftly, she lowered her hand to his, and slid it a few inches up her silky thigh. She noticed with detachment that having a handsome man’s hand up her skirt did nothing for her. No matter. Back to business.

“Are you seeing anyone,” she asked him.

“No, I’ve been so busy with my work, I haven’t been out in ages.” Smooth, Pat had to admit to herself, since she had been shadowing him for two months, as he squired Anne Summers around Chicago.

The waiter returned, and it occurred to Pat that she was about to have her first gourmet meal in five months. Resisting the temptation to order an enormous steak, as Patrick would have done, she selected whitefish with a potato soufflé, and asparagus vinaigrette as a starter. The waiter produced a wine list, and she sat back and watched Nash order an expensive chardonnay. This was going to be fun.

She steered the conversation to her imaginary money. “Where do you think I should invest?”

“Tech stocks continue to offer the best opportunity for long range growth, and that’s what I would recommend to a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her.”

“Aren’t they awfully risky?” In her prior life as an investment banker, Pat had correctly anticipated the bubble, and she wanted to find out what Nash was doing with Anne Summers’ insurance money.

“We anticipate significant increases this year and for the foreseeable future.”

God, what an airhead, Pat thought to herself as the waiter produced her asparagus and his heart of lettuce drenched in blue cheese dressing. With a pang of envy, she cut a dainty forkful of asparagus as she watched him dive in. His cell phone rang, and he turned away from her as he spoke into it. Was it Anne, calling to ask why he hadn’t called? Or was she expecting him tonight? Pat strained to listen.

“I’m sorry, something came up at the office. No, I won’t be able to make it tonight. Sorry. Call you tomorrow. Bye,” he whispered.

“Have I taken you away from something important?”

He touched her knee again, this time sliding it up her thigh without invitation. “No, Pat, I’m all yours.”

Pat excused herself to visit the ladies room between courses, feeling the sudden need to get away from him for a few minutes. Nash was not only an idiot, he was a cad, taking advantage of Anne Summers and risking their daughter's financial security. Pat would have to act tonight, she decided.

A gorgeous brunette entered the ladies room, and Pat caught herself staring at the girl as she lifted her skirt and fussed with her slip and stockings. She felt a tingle between her legs, and suddenly it dawned on Pat that she might be a lesbian. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she freshened her lipstick. A custom engineered, limited edition, lipstick lesbian.

She returned to the table just as their entrees were being served. She steered the conversation to little things while they ate. Where did Nash live? An apartment in Streeterville. Did he have any roommates? He lived alone. Would she like to see his apartment? Pat blushed, with genuine embarrassment, and said yes.

After dessert (berries for her, fudge cake for him) and coffee, he drove her to his apartment in his BMW, and she took his arm as they walked from the garage into the lobby of his smart highrise. They were alone together in the elevator, and they rode silently to his floor. She followed him to his apartment, and after he opened the door, she paused nervously before entering.

“Maybe we’re rushing this,” she said.

“I’ll just show you my view, and then I’ll take you home, if you don’t want to stay,” he said. The view was spectacular, and she stood at his floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lights of Chicago as he put on soft music and loosened his tie. He came up behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. She turned around and reached up to kiss him, draping her arms languidly around his neck. Then, as he started to tongue her, Pat brought her knee up into his groin with terrific force.

Nash collapsed onto the floor in agony, gasping for breath as he started to throw up his steak dinner. Pat picked up a brass table lamp, and swung it down hard onto the back of his head. He struggled to get to his feet, and she hit him again with the lamp, knocking him back down. A third blow, and he lay motionless on the floor.

After feeling for a pulse, Pat removed her scarf and wiped her fingerprints off the lamp. She used it to close the door behind herself. She was not observed leaving his apartment, although the doorman later remembered seeing an attractive blonde come into the lobby with Nash, and leave alone a few minutes later.

* * *

POLICE SEARCH FOR SLAYER OF CHICAGO MAN

CHICAGO: Police are searching for a mysterious woman last seen on the arm of a Chicago man before he was murdered in his luxurious apartment. Arnold Nash, 34, was found dead on the floor of his lakefront residence, the victim of massive head trauma and a ruptured testicle. According to a spokesman for the Chicago Police Department, Nash met earlier in the day with Patricia Exman, a Chicago woman who came to him for financial advice. They had dinner together at a restaurant on Rush Street before they were seen entering Nash’s apartment. The woman is described as about thirty, with blonde hair and extremely attractive. Here whereabouts are currently unknown.

Frank Sturgess put down his Daily News and looked out the window of his commuter train. Surely it was just a coincidence, he told himself, although there was something about that name…Patricia Exman. It would be interesting to find out if Arnold Nash had any connection to Patrick Summers. If one had the inclination.

* * *

Pat Summers, her hair cut and rinsed back into a mousy brown shag, pulled long wool socks over her stockings and laced up a pair of sneakers. She dropped her heels into her shoulder bag, and set off for her bus stop.

As she made her way in the cold winter air, she stopped at a newsstand to read the headlines. She had to run to her stop in order to catch her bus. Taking a seat on the way to her new job, she felt better about herself than she had in quite some time.

Velvet's Story, Part 4: Absolute Submission and a New Personality
Madam now addressed the tawse to Kitten's unprotected buttocks, flanks and groin and decreed that he should be shackled to the rack, with Vixen, in his dishabille. Like her with a butt plug but with the shaft of his cock encased in a tight meal clamp, leaving the testicles and the helmet exposed.

Now it was my turn. Madam decreed that we, she and I, should participate in a bout of 'ultimate surrender' – a wrestling match the victor being the one who managed to remove the other's bra' and panties first. So saying, Madam removed the slim fitting, full length, high necked sleeveless dinner dress she was wearing to reveal her underwear – a plain black close fitting satin bra' and lace trimmed black satin French knickers, over self supporting, lacy black nylon stockings.

My own dress removed uncovered my white frilly panties, with matching bra' and suspender-belt and white nylon stockings. From the first, I realised Madam was playing with me. I ripped her knickers off quickly and easily – too easily, I immediately recognized, probably having been weakened at the side seams to allow for effortless tearing.

Madam, still in absolute control, writhed her body under mine stretching her legs apart in a variety of attitudes that enabled her to keep her neatly trimmed raven bush and puffy labia on almost constant display to the excited onlookers. She removed my bra' efficiently and quickly, only moments after losing her knickers, then continued to play with me as.

Try as I might I couldn't remove her bra'. No wonder, it was of the athletic type devoid of either back or front fastener, and fitted tight to her pert, trim breasts. Eventually, inevitably, Madam ripped my panties off and I had lost. As the loser I had to service Madam with my lips, teeth and tongue, and submit to being publicly penetrated by Madam, using a large black leather strap-on dildo.

Then, in the company of Flo and the now released Kitten and Vixen, still all four clad only in the clothes we had been allowed to retain, and they with their plugs and sheath still in place, we had to serve additional refreshment to our Mistresses guests before they departed.

*********


During the early hours of the following morning Flo and I were summoned to the computer room in the attic. There we found Mistress dressed in the lacy, satin corselet, panties, bra', stockings and court shoes that she had worn during our early internet exchanges, before I'd been subsumed into her household. Spread on a side table were the similar costumes that Flo and I had worn, Mistresses in shades of blue, Flo's green and mine yellow. Only this time panties and bra' were provided for the two of us [previously we two had had our breasts and quims fully exposed] and there were three matching close fitting satin mask/hoods that, when in position, encased our heads leaving only our eyes, mouths and chins visible.

Mistress had decided that it was time to trawl the internet again and endeavour to ensnare another submissive. She told us that, for this exercise she would take the name Miss Sapphire, Flo would be Miss Emerald and I would become Miss Topaz. Mistress reopened her old site; again, with an invitation for 'a co-operative submissive, willing to submit her or himself to the directions of a trio of Mistresses' to make immediate contact.

It wasn't until nearly an hour after Mistress first 'logged on' that a tentative reply appeared on the screen asking 'what exactly would be involved.' Mistress's reply went out as before, 'for adventures and experiences of a sexual nature.'

Eventually, after a further period, the follow up appeared on the screen.

'I'd like to explore this further. J.'

'Okay, we might be willing; but who are we talking to? If you have a webcam plug it in and let's have a look at you,' Mistress replied, as she switched on her own camera and allowed our satin hooded and clad images to fill the screen.

Eventually, after a further interval, the image of a slight young man – about the same build as Mistress filled the screen.

Mistress suddenly handed the mouse to me and indicated that I should take over the consul.

Remembering my own initiation I typed in the next instruction, 'if you are serious, remove your clothes, carefully."

We all three watched as, with some further hesitation, the young man on the screen began to undress, removing his clothes and placing them neatly folded on a chair to the side. Eventually, he stood with downcast face and with his slim delicate hands clasped in front of his masculinity – shielding it from view.

It was time for a reprimand. 'Hands to your sides,' I ordered curtly, 'and turn slowly in front of the camera, so that we can get a good look at you.'

More shamefaced than ever, he complied turning gradually to present a fresh face over a slender, fair-skinned, almost hairless body – with a narrow waist, flat buttocks and long, straight legs ending in slender feet.
My next order came, again remembering my own induction: 'Masturbate for us.' Almost, I expected him to 'log off' but, as if hypnotised, his hands went to his already stiffening and thickening cock, and he began to stroke it – increasing the frequency until, eventually, he erupted in a massive shooting discharge that splashed onto the lens and was consequently visible on the screen.

'Time for introductions,' I typed. 'I am Miss Topaz and my two companions, all of whom you must regard as your mistresses, are Miss Emerald and Miss Sapphire.' With the twin images of Mistress and Kitten in my mind, I gave my final order for that night. 'Tomorrow you will acquire four outfits similar to the ones we're wearing, except that yours will be in shades of pink and crimson, and you will log on again tomorrow morning at exactly 1.15am properly dressed – as we are. You will use the name Garnet.'

2. Early Training

It wasn't until the fourth night that they contacted me again. During the intervening period I'd dutifully sat, as ordered, in front of my computer between mid-night and one am, clad only in a satin corselet stockings and high heels, with my video link camera trained on my exposed body and with my computer open to any casual interrogation under my net sobriquet of 'Velvet'. Again by their instruction I wasn't allowed to converse with such casual visitor and, again in compliance, I had to masturbate myself to climax upon opening, twice more during the hour and again before closure.

It was a new experience for me. As my own boss, and owner of a discrete courier service, I'm regarded as a bit of a martinet by my staff and, definitely, I'm the one in control. And the same heretofore had been the case with my private life – both social and sex. Somehow, I'd succumbed to Ebb and Flo's suggestion of enrolling myself as their submissive slave after entering an internet chat room those few nights previously – and I was already aware that something inside me responded positively to the thought of their domination; hence my passive acceptance of their command to exhibit myself in this way.

[The explanation of how Velvet met and agreed to become Ebb and Flo's submissive can be found in 'Velvet: a Story of Obedience – 1. Beginnings' fp]

"Velvet," the message read, "go and get your panties, those that match your costume of course, and return! Ebb and Flo."

I did as I was bid and returned to my computer desk, and the range of the camera, carrying my panties.

"Put them on and masturbate to climax, coming in your panties;" was the pre-emptory command.

Meekly, I bent to step into my pale yellow gauzy, lacy panties, pull them up around my hitherto naked thighs and sat with my legs parted in full view of the camera. Gently at first, I started to tease the already engorged [and easily discernable through the fragile transparency] lips of my sex – all clearly visible on the screen in front of me and that of anyone Ebb and Flo had allowed to gain and maintain access. Gradually my fingers began to find a quicker rhythm and a deeper penetration as I sought to assuage the throbbing, welling sensation inside me and to grant release to the stiffening thrusting stalk of my clitty. In no time at all, it seemed to me, with my nipples by now standing out like bullet tips and my aureole bubbling and flushing with arousal, my climax arrived and I came in great waves that flooded my panties with my own honey-musk and saturated my thighs, my stocking tops, my suspender straps and the seat of my chair. Giving me little time to recover my equanimity the next command arrived.

"Take your panties off and use them to clean yourself."

Again without demure, I did so. Still in full view of myself and all and any watchers. My panties, already drenched with my outpourings degenerated into a soggy, sorry rag.

"Lift your panties to face, breath in the aroma, Wipe your face in them – slowly and completely, and then suck as much of the moisture out of them as you can."

Docilely, I carried out my instructions. It wasn't the first time I'd tasted my own climactic flood. In the past I'd milked my own sex with my fingers, after masturbation, and I had at least one female lover with whom I'd shared love juices, by holding one-an-other's in our mouths to share with our kisses. And I'd lapped and swallowed both female and male outpouring on many occasions. But it was the first time I'd ever sucked my own panties. The somewhat strange combination of my flood, with the dressing of my previously unworn panties, was by no means unpleasant – a sweet rather pungent mixture. With my panties still in my mouth I received the next inquiry.

"Is your camera capable of remote action?"

"Yes."

"Filming as you go, put you panties back on, dress in a formal blouse and costume, over a full length slip, and go into your bathroom. Run a bath and step into it, fully clothed. Gradually remove all your clothes and bathe yourself intimately and properly. Before leaving the bath, shave your pudenda and labia clean. Return to the computer and display your newly shaven pussy."

After stooping to resume my panties, I carried my camera into my bedroom and set it up to catch my image as I dressed as instructed; carried it into the bathroom to film my bath filling; my fully clothed immersion; my gradual unclothing; my painstaking and comprehensive toilette; and my thorough depilation of my pubic bush. On my return to my computer, the resultant baby soft and conspicuous gash of my lower lips surprised me – I'd never felt so naked before, even exposed to the camera as I'd masturbated on demand, the presence of my bush had somehow provided an element of camouflage that was no longer there. The image of my naked quim, splashed across my screen, brought a moment of doubt to my mind. 'Was I really being wise, in pursuing my liaison? I could cut it at any time'. It was only a moment, I wasn't given enough time to dwell on it before my next instructions arrived ... and these instructions made me quail, but set up a imp in me that insisted that I follow them to the best of my ability, in anticipation of the arousal and thrill they promised to incite in me.

The next morning, a Saturday, I awoke early and dressed and prepared in strict accordance with my directions. As I made my way through the underground network to Oxford Street I was acutely aware of my nakedness under my light summer weight wrap around skirt. Like most women, I'd occasionally gone out without panties before but only when attending parties or social events that called for tight formal dresses, the lines of which would be disturbed by the outline of any underwear. This was different; over-ground there was an early summer breeze that was enough to catch the hem of my skirt, and raise it, and the through draft on the underground platforms seemed particularly virulent that morning. And I was under strict instructions not to attempt to hold my skirt down. It was enough, too, to flatten my light summer blouse, held tight to my body by the waist band of my skirt, against my braless breasts, emphasising my already well stimulated nipples.

Upon arrival in the shopping street, my first task was to choose a shoe shop that had young men serving. Making my selection, pausing almost to offer up a short prayer for courage, I entered and, catching the eye of the youngest male assistant there, sat down to choose a pair of shoes – asking him to fetch several models in my size. Whilst he went off to retrieve the shoes I surreptitiously re-arranged the folds of my skirt to allow the two sides to slide back across my thighs. As he knelt before me I raised my foot to enable him to slide a shoe onto my foot, allowing my skirt to part even further and giving him ample opportunity to glance up and see my doubly naked, knickerless and shaven, quim. From the way his body started, the flush that quickly suffused his face and neck, and the bulge that almost immediately appeared in the front of his trousers, it was obvious that he had taken the opportunity offered. My level, expressionless gaze cut off any involuntary noise and I kept him there, at my feet, trying on various shoes, with my nakedness before his eyes, for the best part of half-an-hour as I discussed fit colour and fashion with him, and made him try different shoes more than once. Eventually, I rewarded him by buying the two most expensive models, and gave him a discrete smile as I handed him an extra tip 'for service', and left to fulfil my next task.

The first branch of Next was only a few steps down the road, entering I chose a flimsy, lacy thong in pale pink, decorated with tiny crimson flowers, and a line of tiny crimson bows down the front panel. I took them to the girl on the cash desk and after paying for them, in the hearing of a couple of other women lining up to pay for their choices, I asked her if she would mind removing the price tag as I'd come out in such a rush that morning that I'd forgotten to put any knickers on and needed 'to wear them now'. Startled, and nearly as red faced as the young man who'd served me in the shoe shop, she hastily complied and watched in even greater amazement as I took them from her, bent to step into them and pull them up around me – disrupting my skirt as I did so. As my skirt fell more or less back into place I turned and left the shop, and walked down the street to the second branch of Next to repeat the performance – this time choosing a pair of panties of the same pattern, with added bows at the hip. At the third branch, I purchased a pair of matching French knickers; this time I managed to line up at a till serviced by a young male assistant and, like his male predecessor, managed to kindle a quite promising erection in addition to his blushes. I was now wearing three pairs of knickers, as ordered. I anticipated that the penultimate part of my task was going to prove rather more difficult but, first, there was another stage.

I walked the length of Oxford Street to Charing Cross Road, down Charing Cross Road until I found Lisle Street and there, as promised, was a sex shop. It took me a little while to screw up my courage and enter. I suppose I expected a seedy 'hole-in-the-corner' atmosphere. What I encountered was a mixture of Ann Summers, a thriving magazine outlet and a retailer of small electrical goods – almost clinically clean, with a thriving clientele and courteous staff. After I got my bearings I approached a young man at the counter and, as instructed, informed him that I wanted to 'buy a dildo, a vibrating dildo'. Nonchalantly, as though this was any every-day occurrence, which it probably was, he drew me to a display cabinet and proceeded to explain the differing merits of the various products he had available; and I eventually settled for a particular model to which, on his advice, I added a pot of lubricant. The rest of the customers seemed not to find anything strange about my purchase or the exchanges that lead up to it. Leaving the shop after some twenty minutes, I boarded a tube at Leicester Square and made my way back to Bond Street. The problem of fulfilling my next assignment returned. An idea struck me.

After ordering and consuming a Starbucks coffee and Danish, I paid a visit to their toilet – barely being able to resist the temptation to 'bring myself off', as I had been instructed not to do. Instead, after relieving myself, I took my nail scissors out of my shoulder bag and almost severed the waist bands of my three pairs of knickers. As an after thought, I also split both the side seams of my panties almost to the top.

Walking westwards, I threaded my way through the subways at Marble Arch and set out across Hide Park. On that glorious, if somewhat breezy day, the park was pretty crowded with visitors and locals alike. At the bridge over the Serpentine, I stopped to look over the parapet into the water below. Taking a deep breath to inflate my diaphragm I managed to slip my hand under my skirt between my body and the parapet, and wrench the waist band of my French knickers snapping it to allow my knickers to fall around my ankles. Ostensibly absorbed in whatever I was studying, even glancing back over the parapet as I began to move away, I managed to carefully step out of my knickers and leave them discarded in the side of the path, apparently totally unaware. Continuing my journey southward, I managed to shed my second pair of knickers by the Albert Memorial where a group of Japanese tourist watched amazed and amused, as I continued my walk seemingly unaware that my panties had fallen to the ground and I'd left them there. I was glad that I'd had the after thought that made me split the side seams, I'm not sure they'd have slipped off with anything like the ease they did, otherwise. I left my third pair of knickers in Brompton Road, outside Harrods where, again, an appreciative audience of tourists and locals watched me walk on seemingly unaware that my thong had slipped off and was left lying on the pavement behind me. Before completing the final part of my instructions, I treated myself to one of Harrods 'afternoon teas', again completely knickerless under my flowing summer skirt with my rigid nipples now thrusting hard against the confines of my blouse, itself confined and pulled tight by the waist band of my skirt.

Leaving Harrods I joined the tube at Knightsbridge to make my way back to Maida Vale via a change at Piccadilly Circus. My body ached for the release of my own fingers. My breasts and nipples felt near to explosion and my labia and clitty craved attention – but self relief was forbidden me. Feigning absorption in a magazine I'd picked up at the station, I continued to sit on the tube as the train stopped at Piccadilly until I judged the doors were about to close. At the last moment I leapt up and lunged for the opening; as I'd already released the fastening of my wrap around skirt I expected to leave my skirt behind me as I dashed for the platform. Somehow, the material clung around me but, as I barely cleared the narrowing gap without the doors touching me and rebounding open, the closing doors fastened on the now trailing material and my skirt was whipped away from me as the train gathered speed away from the platform – leaving me stood on a busy Piccadilly Circus platform dressed only in shoes, stockings, a suspender-belt and a blouse that reached only a couple of inches below my navel, my shaven pubis, by bare bottom and the slit and engorged lips of my shaven quim displayed to all the people around me.

After what seemed an age but was probably in reality less than a minute, as I stood on the platform counterfeiting bewilderment and panic, but in truth stimulated beyond belief by the experience, a woman in her early fifty's wrapped her light summer coat around me and hastily bid me to 'take it and get home as quickly as you can'.

That night, or rather early the next morning, I reported the outcome of my adventures to Ebb and Flo; only to be told that they were already aware of my compliance to their instructions 'you were filmed' I was told.

"You may now take out your dildo and use it to bring yourself off," I was told.

Of course, I regarded this as a command not a warrant to please myself – although in obeying it I was pleasing myself as my body, as tightly aroused as a bow string, cried out for the relief it had been craving in increasing measure since I'd left my flat knickerless and braless that morning. Applying the lubricant I switched on and, as advised, began to tease my labia with the softly vibrating instrument. The sensation was beyond anything I'd encountered before. No mere man, however proficient his masculinity, had ever been able to raise the delirium that suffused my body; and none of my female lovers and I had ever used any such toy before. In no time I had the apparatus vibrating and buzzing at its maximum speed, and I was plunging it in and out of my font – my vaginal wall muscles and my exultant clitty snatching and contracting on and around its pulsating rigidity. I'd never before had such an extended orgasm. I came and came and came and came again, my honey-musk flooding and flooding out. And all on camera of course, for the benefit of my controllers and any one else to whom they'd cared to grant access. Eventually, I recovered and, as directed, used my fingers to milk as much of my outpourings as I could and licked and sucked my vibrator clean.

"You will, of course, keep your pudenda shaved," was their final text, before they signed off.

I met the two of them in an internet chat room. They were quite open about it; after a brief casual exchange, they boldly declared that they were 'looking for a co-operative submissive, prepared to surrender either her or him-self to their instructions'. 'These instructions would', they confirmed at the outset, 'involve the subject in a series of adventures and experiments of a sexual nature'.
"Okay," was the next text, "stand up and train the camera on your self."

Anticipating what would come next I experienced a degree of panic, which I stilled by the thought that I had agreed to the exchange and, anyway, there was no diminution in my arousal. My body was ready even my mind was a bit reluctant.

I wasn't wrong; there followed step by step instructions to removed my blouse and bra' and to train the camera on my, by now bullet tipped, breasts; followed, after an interval during which the two of them examined my breasts, by instructions to remove my skirt, underskirt and panties.

"We're glad to see that you wear stockings and suspenders; not those ghastly tights," came the next comment. "Keep those on and train the camera up between your legs.

Highly excited by now, and aware that my lower lips were salivating fast, I did as I was told, opening my legs slightly to allow an unrestricted view of my own vagina to appear on the screen. It was a strange experience, that first time, to see my most intimate feature spread out for others to view. I'd bared my breasts in public before, on continental beaches, but this was the first time anyone other than a chosen lover or an occasional doctor had had such visual access to my vagina. Strange it might have been but it was somehow highly satisfying, particularly as I was responding to the directions of others.

The duration of their inspection was even longer; then the next instruction came.

"Sit back in your chair with your legs apart, train the camera on your body and masturbate – slowly!"

And so I did, as confirmed by the images that appeared on my own screen, as well as theirs, and the screens of those to whom they chose to allow a link, and for all I know anyone else who managed to 'hack in' to our private exchange. Despite doing my best to obey their dictate, and despite the slow rhythm I used, my fingers had barely touched my supercharged organs, my engorged labia and swollen throbbing clitty, before I exploded in an orgasmic flood that swept through my body and drenched my fingers, thighs, suspender-straps, stocking tops and the seat of my chair with my deluge and left me feeling weak and exposed.

"Very nice," the computer clicked, "although much too quick. You were told to masturbate slowly! You'll have to learn to do better than that, to control your feelings until given permission to complete. Remember, you are our plaything and must subject yourself to our guidance. Your own needs and feeling are secondary – in all things. Now, use your fingers and your tongue to clean up your quim and your thighs."

Completely under their spell by now, I did as I was bid and used my fingers to gather as much of my own musky, honey-dew as I could transferring them to my mouth to lick and savour the taste. It wasn't the first time I'd tasted my own orgasm. Curiosity had driven me to milk my own vagina before and some of my female lovers and I had held each others flows long enough in our mouths to share in deep kisses – something I'd never done with any of my male lovers, although I had in the past fed them with their own 'cum'.

"Okay," the computer continued, "We are prepared to continue with this on the condition that you subjugate yourself completely to out direction. Any departure from any of our dictates will result in immediate cessation of our relationship. You will at all times await our call; at no time will you initiate any exchange; and you will comply with instant and total obedience. From now on you will be known as 'Velvet' and as such you will be in front of your computer to receive instructions between midnight and one am each day, with your camera link in place and functioning. During tomorrow you will purchase a minimum of four costumes like ours, although yours will be in shades of yellow, which you will wear when you are awaiting our contact. Like Flo, you will only wear panties when you are 'on', and you may be required to prove it. If this is clear and you wish to continue, please respond with 'accepted: Velvet'."

It took me several minutes to decide before the massage went out.

"Accepted: Velvet."

And I wondered even then what I'd let myself into. I soon discovered ...

To be continued ...

A twist on one of Grimm's Fairy Tales.

Her mother was dying.

Cinderella didn't need anyone to tell her that. The sad faces and averted eyes of the visitors that poured through their home told her that. The extra gentle touch of her father's hand on her shoulder told her that. And the pale, withered husk of her once lively mother told her that. She held her cold hand, trying to rub some warmth into the skin and her mother smiled weakly.

"Don't worry about me, dear Cinderella. I will be fine. Watch after yourself."

She died the next day and Cinderella was inconsolable. She visited the grave every day, bringing flowers and weeping over the loss. Soon winter came and then spring. And then, her father brought home a new wife.

The new wife had a pair of daughters, each as beautiful as the sun and each as ugly as a vulture. Their handsome looks and expensive clothes could not cover the darkness and evil in their hearts. They looked upon Cinderella as if she was a servant.

"Why should she be allowed to eat with us, Mother?"

"Why should she be allowed to wear pretty dresses like us, Mother?"

"Why, indeed!" The new wife agreed with her daughters. And so Cinderella was stripped of her fancy clothes and sparkling jewels. She was made to eat leftovers in the kitchen with the servants and her bedroom became the basement.

Her father knew nothing of the treatment. He was away on business more often than not and she never had the courage to speak to him about it when she did get to see him since the new wife was always present. One day, her father announced that he would be leaving for France and most likely would not return for two years. He promised to send money and write as often as possible and with a fatherly kiss goodbye, he rode out. Cinderella felt her heart crumble and die.

"Cinderella!" The new wife's shrill call echoed through the house and the young woman hurried down the stairs. "Stop right there!" Cinderella stopped at the base of the stairs, nervously tugging on her brown braid. "Get on your knees!" Her step-sisters giggled as they watched. "You are not to walk any more. From now on, you crawl."

"Crawl? But Step-Mother ... "

Her step-mother strode over and slapped her face soundly. "And no talking back." Cinderella just stared at her with tear-filled eyes, her hand cupping her aching jaw. "Now, go crawl and get us breakfast!"

When Cinderella had left, the older step-daughter turned to her mother. "Is Cinderella truly now our servant, Mother?"

"Why, yes, darling."

"So we may use her any way we want?" The younger step-daughter asked.



"Absolutely, darling."

Cinderella came back in, crawling and doing her best to balance the tray of food. The threesome conversed between each other, deliberately ignoring her until she had finished serving and turned to leave.

"Wait just a minute, Cinderella. Come here." Cinderella left the tray and crawled over to her step-mother's chair. She was very surprised to see her step-mother lifting her skirt and pulling her silk underdrawers down. "Come here."

"Wha-what do you want, Step-Mother?"

Step-Mother grabbed Cinderella by the nape of her neck and shoved her face into her stinking pussy. "Drink it." At first, she didn't understand, but when the warm fluid hit her lips, she gasped and tried to pull away. Unfortunately, she was not as strong as her step-mother and her gasp had opened her mouth. The strong smelling urine flowed onto her tongue and she almost gagged. "Don't you dare throw up! You drink it down, all of it! Don't you miss a drop!" The piss continued flowing into her mouth and she swallowed, shutting her eyes and squeezing tears out. She was so ashamed! "Ah, now that was fine."

Cinderella crashed to the floor when Step-Mother released her. "Thank you, Step-Mother."

"I'm next!" Older Step-sister proclaimed. Cinderella obediently crawled over to her chair and averted her eyes while her step-sister unfastened her panties. Like her mother, her cunt was bushy and stunk of sweat. Her stomach tumbled but she put her mouth over the slick opening of Older-Stepsister's cunt. Her pee was strong, too, and she forced it out, nearly choking Cinderella with the blast. She drank it down without a sound.

"And now, me!" Young Step-sister gleefully shoved her undies down. For a moment, Cinderella was pleased. Young Step-sister's pussy was clean-shaven but the joy quickly died when she was shoved onto her back and that pussy was shoved onto her face. Cinderella opened her mouth, fighting not to gag as the fluid dripped onto her tongue and rolled down her throat. Young Step-sister arose, stepped over her and returned to her plate and the threesome laughed heartily as Cinderella crawled away.

"Don't go too far, Cinderella!" Step-Mother's shrill voice followed her. "You never know when you'll get thirsty again!"

Their cackling voices rang in her head as she crawled away, wishing that she could join her mother in death.

* * * * *

"Cinderella!"

Older Step-sister was calling for her. It had been a horrible two weeks for her. She had become their toilet. Each morning, she was expected to visit each chamber and drain their piss directly from their slimy, stinky cunts and each evening, she would repeat the visit. She never got sick from drinking the urine but she was so humiliated from having to put her mouth directly on their pussies. Young Step-sister always insisted on sitting on her face for her deposit and as of late, Step-Mother had been ordering her to clean her cunt with her tongue.

A few times, Step-Mother would tremble and thick, white fluid would come out of her pussy and Cinderella would be ordered to clean that as well. She didn't know what it was, but she did as she was told.

She crawled into the library and took her usual position, bent over on all fours so that Step-Mother could rest her feet on her back. The step-sisters were in their chairs, preening and primping as usual.

"We have been invited to the King's castle for a Bride Festival!"

"A Bride Festival? What's that?" Young Step-sister asked.

"It's a day long gathering where the Prince selects a bride from all of the ladies who attend, silly!" Older Step-sister said.

"Oh, it sounds wonderful! When do we go?"

Step-Mother shoved Cinderella over, angry that she had dared to ask the question. "We are going, Cinderella, and that does not include you!"

"Why? I have as much right as anyone to seek the Prince's favor!"

"You have no rights!" Step-Mother hissed. She turned to her daughters. "We have to get dressed immediately. A carriage will take us to the castle."

The two girls leaped up with a scream and dashed off. Step-Mother arose. "Follow me." Cinderella crawled behind her, trying to keep up but the hard tile floors hurt her kneecaps but she hurried down the stairs into the kitchen. "Minton!" A fat man with sausage arms and a hairy chest came out of the fire room, his legs covered with sawdust from the wood that he worked with all day. It was his job to make sure that the estate's fires didn't die out. "This is my best worker, Minton."

Step-Mother pulled Minton to the side and spoke a few terse words to him, but the big man came away laughing. They both returned to where she waited on her knees.

"Go with Minton. If you accomplish his task, you may go to the festival."

With that, Step-Mother retreated up the stairs. Minton grabbed her by her braid and half-led, half-dragged her into the pantry area, tossing her down the short set of stairs. He stood over her, untying his pants and leering at her. His thick sausage-of-a-cock bounced out and she gasped. "All right, girl. Your task is to suck me off." He grabbed Cinderella by the back of her head. "And no one has ever made me cum."

Oh, God! Cinderella heard the words in her head, both in response to the size of his huge cock and his words. No one had ever made him cum?

He stroked his huge tube of meat, flicking it towards her face. "Do I have to force you?" He chuckled. "I'd sure like to do that."

A plan formed in her mind. She moved back against the wall, raising her hands above her head as if she were bound and allowed tears to trickle down her cheeks. In a small voice, she said,

"Fuck you."

Minton's olive skin turned red and he stomped forward, yanked her hair back and shoved his cock into her mouth. Cinderella felt the head of his dick shoving its way into her mouth and nearly gagged, trying to accommodate the size. Minton assaulted her mouth and jaw, forcing himself down her tender throat. He groaned and was astonished to hear that from himself. Her jaw was widening, the muscles relaxing to take him in. No woman, or man for that matter, had ever been able to do that. His cock flexed, the nerves endings screaming in delight.

"You sure are a good sucker!"

He couldn't believe that he had said that. He put his hand on the top of her head and rocked back and forth, first in a shallow movement, then in depth. To her credit, she fought, trying to push him away, but she accepted him. He looked down, into her dark brown eyes, seeing the tears that were streaking her dirty cheeks and her words pierced him. Fuck you.

"HOLY SHIT!"

With a frightful cry, he shoved his dick deep into her throat, cutting off her supply of oxygen as he pumped an unbelievably large load of cum into her mouth. Even as she slumped to the floor, unconscious, he stayed with her, hung up in her like a bitch in heat. He panted heavily, pulling his now limp prick out with a loud pop. She still lay silent so he kicked her in the ribs. She groaned and coughed.

"Go tell your fucking step-mother that you accomplished the task."

Cinderella felt like hell. Her head was throbbing and her jaw felt as if she'd tried to swallow a watermelon. But she'd succeeded. She rose to her knees and coughed gently, moaning at the pain. Not looking at him, she slid away, climbing up the stairs and heading for the master suite. She crawled in, remaining silent until Step-Mother acknowledged her.

"What do you want?"

"I have accomplished the task."

Step-Mother's face went pale, then red with anger. "You lie!"

"I do not. You may ask Minton yourself."

The kick in her ribs sent her sprawling across the floor. "You don't tell me what to do! Go to your room!"

Cinderella pulled herself up from the floor and crawled to her basement room. At least I can go to the festival. She stripped, washed and found a suitable dress. Next, was a bit of make-up, then combing and pinning her hair into a fanciful shape. Today was the best day of her life. Today, she could escape. She slipped on her shoes and headed up the stairs.

The door was locked.

"No!" She pounded on the door but no one came. With a sinking heart, she knew that her step-mother had done this. She crumpled to the floor, sobbing until she cried herself to sleep.

* * * * *

It must have been some hours later when the creak of the door awoke her. Minton stood there, his glare hard. "Get up!" She struggled to her feet. "My, don't you look pretty!"

"What do you want?"

"I want you to suck me off again."

Cinderella groaned, thinking of the pain that she'd endured. "And what do I get if I do?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to backhand her but he just scowled at her, then laughed. "I'll let you out."

She dropped to her knees and unfastened his pants. His thick stalk flopped out and she grasped it, stretching her already sore jaw to take him in. He groaned, slapping her hands out of the way in order to shove his meat down her gullet again. Minton just kept pumping, his hands on her head, hissing and moaning as he hurtled toward his climax. She lifted her hands and tried to push him off, which just made him push harder and within moments, he was cumming, clogging her throat with his copious cum. He yanked his prick out of her throat and shoved her to the floor, turning and heading back up the stairs.

Cinderella jumped to her feet and followed, afraid that he would re-lock the door and was happy that he kept his part of the bargain. She was out.

Now, on to the festival!

* * * * *

Step-Mother and her daughters huddled together outside of the King's chamber where the King, Queen and Prince were receiving the young ladies that had come to participate in the BrideQuest. They were all worried because they had heard a rumor that the King was making the ladies perform fellatio on the Prince to ascertain their sexual experience. It was said that they were a very sexual family and enjoyed some strange proclivities and the woman that married the Prince would be expected to fit in.

"Oh, Mother!" Young Step-sister wailed. "What are we going to do?"

"We don't know anything about ... about ... "

"Oh, hush!" The step-mother hissed at her oldest child. "Give me a moment to think."

The next young woman to be interviewed climbed the stairs and all three women were speechless, taking in her breathtaking beauty. She looked familiar but they couldn't recall who she was. She straightened her back and strode into the chamber, ignoring the glares of the other waiting women. She bowed low before the King, Queen and the Prince.

Without a word, she knelt at the King's feet, removed one of his boots and sat back on her haunches, licking the leather, her eyes moving and meeting with each of the royals. The Queen's face reddened with desire and the King's eyes brightened. Next, she bent and licked his sweaty foot, flicking her tongue between his toes. The King hissed in pleasure, his eyes closed. He reached down and grabbed her head, bringing her mouth to his for a deep, hard kiss, one hand brutally caressing her breast.

Releasing her, he gave a slight nod to his wife who arose from her throne. The King pushed her down to her knees, then moved behind her, forcing her onto all fours. Cinderella felt the coolness of the air as her skirts were pushed up, baring her ass. Suddenly, pain ripped through her and she screamed. The King had shoved his thickest finger into her virgin asshole and was roughly plunging it in and out. She tried to pull away, but his strong arm around her middle would not allow her to. The pain continued, then as he withdrew his finger, she slumped in relief.

But it was not over. Something larger pressed against her now-tender opening. She thrashed but could not move, wailing tearfully as the thing continued to press forward. At once, she realized what it was. It was a cock and a large one, at that. The fat head finally popped through her anal ring and she screamed again as the long, but thin stalk buried itself in her ass. She looked back and was surprised to see that it was the Queen, a strap-on around her slender hips. The Queen gave her ass cheek a wicked smack and started riding her hard.

Cinderella screeched at the pain. It radiated outward from her plundered asshole to her gaping pussy and she was surprised to feel her cunt muscles twitch. The Queen removed the dildo and gave a slight nod to her son, the Prince.

She struggled to her feet but he shoved her down again, slapping his rock-hard cock against her cheek. Pre-cum splattered onto her face and he repeated his action until her face was covered with his juice. She recoiled in horror. He merely smiled, slapping her face with his hand this time. As she opened her mouth to cry out, he stuffed his cock inside and began to fuck her face violently. He dropped to his knees, taking her head in both hands and nodded to his father. The King knelt behind her and drove his prick into her sore ass. The scream she emitted rumbled down the Prince's buried cock and he groaned in lust.

The Queen moved to her husband's side and buried a finger in Cinderella's pussy, pumping hard. The girl moaned. She added two fingers, then three, stretching the untried slit painfully. Cinderella's juice dripped over her fingers and she pulled out to give it a taste, then inserted four fingers. Cinderella screamed in pain but the Queen kept thrusting, marrying her movements with those of her husband. The King reached down and slid three fingers into his wife's heated pussy, frigging her tiny but sensitive clit.

Cinderella wasn't sure who came first. She felt her first orgasm slam into her just as the Prince's cock spurted his thick cream into her mouth. The sound of his son cumming and the feeling of her ass muscles clenching him brought the King to the strongest climax he'd felt in a long time and his wife's cunt clutching his fingers as she came brought on sweet aftershocks. The foursome collapsed to the floor and lay still for several minutes.

Finally, the King arose and helped his wife to her feet. They stood together, licking her cum-drenched fingers while gazing at the woman who lay on the floor. The Prince fixed his pants, helped the young woman to her feet, then turned to his parents. Cinderella stood silently, her nerves jangled and her entire body throbbing in pain.

"I think we've found my bride."

A loud pounding sounded and the doors swung open. Step-Mother and her grasping daughters strode in, her face purple with anger. "I knew it was you!"

"How dare you!" The Queen shouted.

"Your highness, she is an imposter. She is not of royal blood." The eyes of the royal family swung to Cinderella. "She's my servant!"

With a wail of despair, Cinderella fled the room, tripping on the stairs and falling out of a shoe. Her dream was ruined. She had lost.

* * * * *

The next day, Cinderella wished that she was dead again. Her Step-Mother had been livid with her and she was chained to the floor of the stable. The stable boys and hired workers were allowed to fuck her mouth as much as they wanted but they could not touch her pussy. Step-Mother figured that she would fetch a good price if her virginity was still intact. Nearly unconscious with exhaustion, Cinderella never heard the trumpets that announced the arrival of the Prince.

He had found her shoe on the landing and had kept it. He didn't care that she was a servant. He knew, knew deep in his heart that she was the one to fit in to his family. She was the one for him. He had been unable to find out who the old woman and her daughters were so since dawn, he had been visiting every estate in the province, determined to find the young woman.

When Step-Mother answered the door, he knew that he had found the right place.

"Good morning, madam."

"Good morning, sire."

"Where is the young lady from last night?"

"Oh, my daughters! Hold on a minute!" Before he could speak, she shrieked for the girls. They came running into the room, no doubt, waiting for her summons. "Here they are, sire."

"No. Not these girls." He took the shoe from his attendant. "The young woman who wore this shoe, the one that you called your servant."

The step-mother's face went chalk white. "Uh, she's not here, sire."

"Where is she?"

"I sent her away this morning."

"Where?"

"Uh ... uh ... "

"Where is she, madam?"

* * * * *

Cinderella had just dropped off to sleep when something blocked out the bright sun. Her wrists ached from the shackles and her jaw and tongue felt swollen from the assault that she had taken. So many dicks had been shoved into her mouth and her mouth was parched from the salty loads that she had taken. She had thrown up from time to time and even now, when she belched, she tasted sperm.

"Open up."

She mindlessly obeyed the order, taking the penis into her mouth and crying as the owner forced it down her throat, fucking her face hard and fast. The cum splashed against the back of her throat and she swallowed mechanically. She kept her eyes closed, hoping he would just go away but he didn't. His hand slid over her breasts and briefly teased her aching pussy lips. Then, she felt it. The cool leather of her lost shoe as it slid onto her foot. She jerked her eyes open and looked up into the Prince's eyes.
"Hello, Cinderella."

* * * * *

The wedding was the most-talked about affair in the kingdom and would be for years to come. The Prince professed his love for Cinderella and had given her a huge ring and a Princess tiara. Cinderella had professed her love for the Prince and had pledged her to love, honor and obey. The King gave her a necklace studded with diamonds and the Queen gave her a royal cape, lined with mink. Her Step-Mother and her daughters were banished from the kingdom and Cinderella's father sent blessings from France, along with his apologies.

When the wedding banquet ended, Cinderella was led to her private chamber in the palace and thoroughly washed, shaved and scrubbed. The Queen had sent a nightgown for her and the attendants left, allowing her to prepare. This was her wedding night, but she knew what she had to do. The Prince had all rights to refuse her as his bride in the morning if she did not fulfill tonight's wishes. She would do whatever she needed to do.

She pulled the nightgown on and admired her figure in the mirror. The see-through material left nothing to the imagination. Her full, coral-tipped breasts, slim waist and shaved pussy were on full display. She ran her fingers through her hair and went to the door adjoining her chamber with the Prince's royal bedroom.

The King and the Prince stood as she entered and she bowed. The Queen gave her a glass of champagne and watched as she drank it straight down, keeping the young woman within her embrace and rubbing their erect nipples together. Cinderella gave the glass to the Prince and leaned forward, her lips connecting with those of the Queen. The older woman moaned deeply, crushing the young body to hers.

Cinderella dropped to her knees, lifted the edge of the Queen's gown and found her fragrant snatch. She wasn't sure what to do so she did what she thought she'd like to have done to herself. She pressed her mouth into the deep crease and lapped at the escaping juices like a cat with cream. The Queen jerked in response, pushing onto the girl's face and feeding her more of her pussy. Cinderella tilted her mouth up more and let her tongue roam over the Queen's wet pussy, sliding along the inner lips and drilling into the hole. The woman came quickly, moaning loudly.

She arose and stripped off her gown, heading for the bed. The King and Prince stripped, then the King helped his wife strip. The Prince brought a large wooden box with an ornate lid forward and set it on the nightstand. Opening the lid, he reached in and pulled out a set of nipple clamps, attaching them to her hard buds. Cinderella screamed in pain but she couldn't remove them, The King was on one side, the Queen on the other, both holding her hands down.

The Prince leaned down and gave her tortured buds a gentle lick, tugging on the chains. Cinderella screamed again, writhing and thrashing as her arms and legs were tied to the corners of the extra-large bed. The King slid beneath her, his hard stick sliding along her ass cleft, the slick head rubbing against the entrance to her wet cunt. The Queen climbed onto the bed, straddling her daughter-in-law's face and settled her soaked pussy over Cinderella's mouth.

Cinderella thought she was in heaven, even though her body ached with their attentions. She pressed her ass back into her father-in-law, taking his prick deep into her anal canal. Her mouth was filled with the sweet pussy flesh of her mother-in-law, the Queen, and she was pushing her tongue into her hole, thrilling with the play of the muscles on her tongue.

The Prince was the last to join them, but his part was the most important. He moved between Cinderella's legs and rubbed his hard penis into her wet slit, meeting his father's warm flesh. He shared a warm kiss with his father, then one with his mother, then one with his bride, sliding his tongue in as he entered her virgin pussy. She cried out with pain as he broke her hymen, driving himself into her. His father's penis searched for and found her asshole and she moaned in pain, feeling her skin stretch.

Cinderella groaned, long and loud. Every hole was being filled: her mouth by the Queen, her cunt by her husband and her ass by the King. There was nothing better in the world. The Prince tugged on the nipple chains and she howled in pain. She knew that it wouldn't be long before she was cumming. She looked into the Prince's eyes and gave a grimace of submission as her cunt tightened and flexed.

"Oh!"

The Queen was first, swiftly followed by Cinderella. The Prince bent down and locked lips with his handsome father, excited by the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other, separated only by the thin flesh between her ass and cunt. The Prince went first, filling her virgin cunt with his seed while his Father spurted his juice into her ass.

As the candles burned down to the ends of their wicks, Princess Cinderella lay in the warm and welcoming embrace of her new family, her mother at her back, her husband at her front and her father behind her mother.

Within their embrace, she drifted off to a deep and dreamless sleep.

Vicki knew that her new relationship with her Master, Dan, would be hard to explain to her father. However, at some point, she had to do it. The issue was merely one of timing. She couldn't just bring it up out of the blue Monday morning. She had to find out just how much truth her dad could accept at the moment.

After conducting some business at the bank, she went to her office and began preparations for closing shop. A leading interior décor competitor had wanted to buy her out for some time now. She called this fellow, a rather ruthless, but effeminate guy named Martin, to let him know that she was interested in selling to him. He was still keen on the idea, though he offered her a worse deal than before. Clearly, he knew how to drive a hard bargain. Having little choice, she agreed.

Hoping to survive for a while on the money from the sale of her business, Vicki still had to look for a new job. She didn't expect Dan to provide for her completely yet, as he had indicated that such an arrangement would take some time. Naturally, she went looking through the papers for work in the medical field, where she had been employed in the past. She had no wish to be on Martin's payroll, or any other competitors'. That would just be too humiliating.

A leading medical billing company had an ad for a certified coder, which Vicki could easily become again, having taken and passed the test before. She made a note to herself to call up that number. She then went shopping for groceries and a few sex toys, as she realized that Dan would want her to have some "marital aids".

She dropped those off at home, said "hello" to her father, and then went to pick up her son from school. At this point, she stalled further by getting dinner ready. She put a PG-rated movie in the new DVD player for her boy and knocked on her dad's bedroom door. He answered it and saw her standing nervously outside. Realizing that she wanted to discuss something major, he closed the door behind them for a few minutes of privacy.

"Okay, sweetie, what's going on?" he finally asked his daughter.

"Dad, I met a guy last week at the bar. I spent most of the day yesterday with him. We have become involved, physically as well as romantically. He's very different from Ryan. I just thought that you should know that he proposed marriage and I accepted. I love him and want to be his wife. It's that serious," she announced, anxious about his response.

"Marriage? That's a big deal, you know. I hope that he's as good as you think. I definitely want to meet a man who can you to take such a big step again, so soon after the last time. Are you sure this isn't on the 'rebound', dear? You know that I love you and will be happy for you if this works out, but I just don't want you to make a rash move and get burned again. You thought Ryan was very special, too, you know," her dad worried.

"I know. I'm impulsive by nature and sometimes take foolish chances. Believe me this time, Dad. He's very strong and independent. He's not a deadbeat, but a real man. He's got his own business, which is doing a lot better than mine. He even has a great-looking house, not that it's THAT big of an issue to me. He just wants to take care of me. I think he'd be a great stepfather to Trent. This is NOT a loser here, Dad. He does want me to work too, for a while, until he can make enough for both of us. Be happy for me, please?" Vicki explained.

"Okay, but what's this guy's name?" he inquired.

"Dan. Well, his full name is Daniel Eduard Leopold von Greiner, but he goes by 'Dan'. He hates to be called 'Danny'. He says it's undignified, especially for a blueblood like himself. Yes, he's from an old German family, or something like that," she replied.

"Von Greiner? Yes, that sounds quite German and aristocratic to boot. I take it that he is a cultured gentleman with plenty of manners and a lot of ambition?" her father commented.

"Yes, but he's also rather manly. He's no dandy or anything like that. I really want you to meet him. I think that even you would be impressed," she declared.

"Ah, so a Kraut with an old name, plenty of noblesse oblige, an education, money, culture, and plenty of machismo is your type now? Interesting indeed. Is he American or German-born?" he probed.

"Oh, he's an American, just 5th generation. His family left Prussia around the turn of the century. They stuck around and he inherited a small part of their holdings, since they have about 50 members now. He's a great guy. I got to see his family crest and coat of arms," Vicki told her dad.

"So, you're not afraid that his high-flying, upper-class relations will look down their noses at this middle-class Creole girl from rural Louisiana wanting to marry into their noble Prussian house? I love you, dear, and I don't want you to get hurt, because some well-meaning jet-setter took a liking to you that his old money family didn't share. Can you really trust him?" Mr. Blois pointed out.

"I trust him. I think that you will too, given time. I doubt he's that prone to appeasing his more snobbish kinfolk. He seems more liberal and stubborn than that," she responded.

"Then he will be very compatible with you, since you're pretty stubborn too, when something matters enough to you. I just had to make certain that this was what you really desired. I'll meet this new beau of yours and hope that he's the gentleman that you claim him to be. Have you set a date yet?" he asked.

"Not yet, but we will. He's made it clear that he wants to marry me soon," she clarified.

"I gather that you've been...um...intimate. Is that right?" he stammered. "Yes, Dad, I've consummated my relationship with him. That's why I took those tests. He wanted to make sure that I didn't have AIDS or an STD before he slept with me. That's because he didn't want to use a condom with me, like he does most of the time," Vicki told her father.

"So, he generally does use condoms, then? That's rather smart of him. I take it that he's not bothered by your being a mom?" her dad reacted.

"No, he's not. It's not the pregnancy and parenthood thing he dislikes, just disease. He's been very honest and upfront with me about things," she answered.

"'Consummated', eh? That's a word normally used for the wedding night, you know. I've never heard you use large words like that, anyway," her father noted.

"He uses words like that a lot. It's an intellectual thing, I suppose. He says that a long, serious relationship is equivalent to marriage and deserves the same kind of language. He says that man is an animal and marriage simply a matter of the law recognizing, institutionally, something that has already existed. Divorce is the law's belated acknowledgement of the end of a relationship. A wedding is a public declaration of love and one's intention to live permanently with someone that you love," Vicki explained.

"He seems very wise and profound. How old is he?" he inquired.

"30," she told him.

"30? He's younger than you by 5 years! Doesn't that worry you? I guess not, if he's so damned smart for his age. I just hope that there don't prove to be a lot of chinks in this knight's shining armor," he commented.

"There won't, I'm sure. I know that I've been wrong about a lot of things, but I have a strong gut feeling that he can be trusted. Meet him and see for yourself, Dad. I really think that you'll get along," Vicki urged him.

"I hope so," her father said.

The next time that Vicki saw Dan was 2 nights later, as he visited her house. Her Dad was there as well and took the chance to meet this man who would marry his daughter. The first thing he noticed was that the goateed fellow had the most piercing dark brown eyes he had ever seen. They looked like they could see his soul. It was an intimidating sight. However, he was very polite and friendly, despite his appearance of psychic powers.

After they talked and ate dinner (which Vicki cooked, of course), Dan left for the night. He was determined not to reveal too much about his lifestyle to the father yet and he definitely didn't want the son to know any of this at the age of 12. He might know that such things existed, but he wasn't ready for that kind of information about his own mother. He would find out in time, but Dan wasn't about to rush it. He was determined to respect Vicki's wishes in that sense.

Because of the circumstances, Dan and Vicki didn't have sex again for another few days. By that time, he had set up something very special for her. He had equipped the bed with ropes and had gotten his flogger ready. He would train her some more in submission before he acted on the swinging aspect of their relationship. There was still time for that later.

When she arrived at the house this time, Dan immediately ordered her to strip completely naked. After she was nude, he disrobed and led her to his bedroom. Seeing the ropes, she paled a bit for a couple of seconds. However, her breathing returned to normal as soon as she realized that there were no instruments of torture in sight.

"You trust your Master, don't you, Vicki?" he demanded.

"Yes, Master. I guess that you want me to prove my submission and learn something," she replied.

"That's exactly right, my dear slave. You're not ready for the swinging yet. First, you must learn to serve me ahead of yourself. You must expand the degree of trust that you feel for me, knowing that I won't do anything that will harm you. We will use a safe word for today, which will become permanent after you sign our contract. Yes, you're going to put your name to an agreement tonight that will make it clear who is boss, what rights you retain, and which ones you give up for life," he announced.

"Yes, Master," she agreed.

"Vicki, I want you to lie on the bed as I tie you up. You will lie on your belly as I flog you. The safe word is 'disco'. Don't worry. I won't do anything that maims or scars you. It will hurt some, but I suspect that the pain will actually delight you a lot. Won't it? Am I right? The thought of being restrained and whipped excites you, doesn't it?" Dan instructed her.

"Yes, but how did you know?" Vicki asked nervously as he bound her with the ropes.

"You're a masochist, as are many slaves and subs. It became clear from your response to the spanking and anal sex that you love to receive some pain, as long as it's not too extreme," he told her.

Taking the flogger to her legs, he commenced their session by running it between her ass cheeks. Then he slapped her feet with it, followed by her calves. The backs of her knees were next, as he moved up her body. As he had stated, the pain from the flogging added some pleasure. She started to feel damp as her juices dripped onto the bed. She knew that he could smell it, which increased her embarrassment, humiliation, and delight.

When Dan flogged her thighs, Vicki realized that her butt was next. That idea particularly aroused her, a reaction that mystified the slave. On the other hand, did it really matter why she liked pain? If she received some satisfaction from being hurt, so be it. That was between Dan and herself. She was a consenting adult, as some people would say. She would accept her new situation and not worry too much about being "kinky" or "weird".

As she decided to embrace her submissive and masochistic nature completely, she noted that he had already struck her ass several times. While it stung, she didn't mind it. In fact, it stimulated her sex even more. Her pussy went from moist to soaking wet. This happened again while he flogged her back.

His next action really grabbed her attention. He started flogging her cunt, getting her fluids on his whip. As he lashed her, she felt the most potent climax from the pain and pleasure that she had dreamed of getting from a man. There was no question of her predisposition now. She was an obvious masochist and slave, enjoying the domination of herself by a man who was willing to whip her into shape, quite literally in this case.

"Well, it seems that you have cum from being flogged, darling. That's a clear sign of being a good slave. Now, however, you must find out what's it like to let a man fuck you while you're bound and still red from his whip. I think that you'll have a lot of fun being screwed like that, as will I," Dan informed his new slave.

Her hands and feet still tied to the bed, Vicki felt her Master lube up his cock, get behind her, and slam it roughly into her cunt. She squealed as he entered her, but there was no doubt that she wanted him to use her that way. Bucking her hips and struggling half-heartedly against the ropes on her joints, she surrendered her body to his penetration once again.

As Vicki yielded and Dan went deeper inside her sex, she came the 2nd time. The rough rutting was too exciting for her not to orgasm, unless she forced herself back from the brink. Luckily, he was not the sort of dominant who generally made her refrain from cumming. She eagerly succumbed to his cock as it pounded her pussy.

He continued to ram her cunt ruthlessly, not stopping for a minute. She felt her skin burn from the pressure of his body weight on the marks left by the flogger. It only raised the degree of pleasure with that of the pain. Her moans and cries occurred more often too, right alongside his grunts as he shoved his thick dick into her womanhood. She felt sweat pouring down herself from this energetic fucking. She could also smell his perspiration.

Dan knew that he was close to cumming now. This amazing romp, in bed, with a bound and submissive woman whom he had just whipped, absolutely turned him on. His cock and balls had swollen to an extent that he expected to shoot off his load VERY SOON.

When that happened, he planned to release her and make her sign the contract. He was very glad that she hadn't said the safe word. That was a rather good indication of her attitude about the experience.

As he thought about his plans, he felt the twitch of his cock and realized that he was starting to cum. He felt his load spend itself in spurts, as it always did, rather than one massive expenditure. With his needs covered, he got off his slave and untied her. The pleased look on her face made it clear that she appreciated the act as much as himself.

"Well, it seems that I'm not the only one here who liked it, am I?" he commented.

"Liked it? I LOVED it, Master! That was just wonderful! Bondage and pain are definitely for me. I don't have any doubts about that anymore. I'm glad that you introduced me to it. I want to be your slave for life," she exclaimed her gratitude.

"I'm happy to know that you're my little pain-slut. The rest of your training will involve more domination, pain, and of course, swinging. We have yet to do that, I know, but we'll certainly get around to that soon. I wanted to firmly establish my authority and your desire for a M/s relationship first. Speaking of establishing it, I need you to sign this contract, my love," Dan declared.

Without even glancing at it, Vicki signed the pact between them. She was so eager to become his first and favorite slave that she didn't weigh the ramifications. She would take whatever he gave her. Fortunately for her, it wasn't a carte blanche to abuse and mistreat her. It was just a document that made her his property on a permanent basis, with the right to dominate, punish, reward, share, and be shared by her as he saw fit. She was his slave, slut, woman, and head of his future harem.

"Very well. You will move in with me ASAP and begin your new life as my slave. Naturally, as my primary partner, you'll share my bed at all times, regardless of who else is present. The rest of your accommodations can be discussed later. You'll obey the rules of my house and help me enforce them. You'll also avoid any dangerous illegal drugs, not that you planned to possess them anyway. We'll make sure that any children that we have don't use them either. I won't have narcotics in my house, especially ones that involve needles," he commanded her.

Well, Vicki thought, I'm just glad to have a firm hand for a change. Daddy is tough up to a point, but a little too soft at times and unable to maintain any real control over a grown woman like me. Besides, I need a lover, a man who will dominate and possess me in a sexual and romantic sense. Now, I have one and it's even better than what I expected. It's definitely than what I had with the losers that I used to love. None of them were MEN in the same way as Dan. I am really looking forward to the rest of my life for a change. It HAS to improve now.

After the phenomenal strap-on love making Michael and Carol were both extremely exhausted. Carol went over to the bar to grab another stiff drink and then staggered off to clean and change.
He snuggled his face between her heavenly breasts enjoying her hands enveloping him. She stretched languorously, letting him enjoy himself, exploring her body with his hands and mouth. He was like a kid in a candy store. Burying himself in her hair he inhaled the clean scent and luxuriated in its silky sheen. He pressed his mouth gently on each breast as if to pay homage to their magnificence. He licked one nipple sucking it firmly in his pursed mouth and repeated the steps on the other breast. Licking and sucking her brought her slowly to a warm wetness. Moving on from her brown orbs his lips and fingers flitted like butterflies all over her figure. Slowly turning his body to face her feet he continued his tender tactile and oral caresses all over her stomach and waist. Taking his time, his tongue gently probed her shallow belly button and then softly slipped over to her thighs. His ran his hands over her powerful thighs marveling at her taut form. His lips brushed across her knees and shins on the way down to her feet. Michael's mouth enveloped her long clean toes tenderly sucking all ten of them each in turn. His slim body was astride her and his now rigid erection leaked from its own arousal onto her stomach.

She tenderly pulled him up by his thighs towards her face so that his stiff penis could nestle in the deep valley between her breasts. She could smell his sexual excitement and badly wanted to taste his swollen member. Michael too was now above her beautiful pussy smelling her arousal with his face resting on her trim tuft of hair. He licked her coarse hair enjoying the crinkly texture on his tongue and lips. She opened her legs wide inviting him to pay attention to her moist slit. At the same time her hands pulled his body closer to her face and she raised her head up to let her warm mouth envelop his cock. Carol's tongue slurped the juices from his tip. He too let his tongue begin its tasting trip at the top of her cleft. As he paid attention to her lips her clit engorged and raised itself. The double sensations of licking and being licked electrified them both as each one concentrated on orally pleasuring the other. Sucking him, she loved the slippery and throbbing cock in her mouth and focused on using her strong tongue on the tender area just below and under his cock head.

She alternated between slurping the mushroom-shaped head and licking at the sensitive spot while pressing and pulling the base of his long rod with her fingers. After a few minutes of her hands vigorously milking the stem and the continuous tongue action on the head, he tensed and stiffened his entire body and she knew that he was ready to come again. Meanwhile, he had focused his mouth on her large upright clit. He licked and sucked her as if it was a cock as she raised and jerked her hips straining to press more of her sensitive mound to his face. Both of them again came nearly simultaneously. A slightly smaller volume of come spurted into her mouth in thick streams as her cleft filled up with juices from her orgasm to drench his face and mouth. Spent from their second mutual orgasm, they slumped on each other with his face resting against her thigh and his softening wet cock on her breasts. Minutes passed and then she slowly turned him around face up to snuggle against her. She kissed him deeply and he could taste his salty juices mixed in with hers. Moments later they were sound asleep in satiated exhaustion. It was now nearly 4am. Carol had come four times and Michael twice. It had been a long but very pleasurable night!

It was afternoon on Sunday when he woke up. They were both sleeping on their sides in nearly fetal positions and he found himself nestled against her with his back pressed to her breasts. Her face was buried at the nape of his neck, her long hair was all over his face and one strong hand cradled him while cupping his semi erect cock. Her leg draped over his lower body enclosing him protectively next to her. The room was still very dark but you could see sunlight peer in below the door. As he pushed her hair away from his face, she too stirred, raising her leg away from his body and releasing him. Cupping him protectively with her body, her hand began squeezing his cock making him swell up fully. She then used her fingers to grasp him firmly and began pumping back and forth. In a few moments he erupted and sprayed the bed with his white ejaculate. Enjoying her attention he began moving around and down to please her when she got up off the bed and pulled him to her. "Let's take a shower!" she said.

The glass fronted master bathroom shower was large and luxuriously marble tiled. The nickel plated shower head issued a piercing stream of steamy hot water and they luxuriously soaked it up. The shower beat down on his back soothing his sore bottom. Between Carol and the shower he stood facing her and pressed up to her breasts. With her long wet hair and the warm water shrouding both of them, she enjoyed the protective feeling of Michael's slim form pressed against her. The proximity to her body and the warmth of her presence sublimated Michael's need to serve her and he slowly disengaged from her arms to pick up the sweet smelling liquid soap and sponge from the shelf. He moved around, away from the streaming water, and using these began cleaning her back. He used the soapy sponge all over her back and reached up under her long hair to clean her neck. As she turned around to face him, his sponge focused all around her breasts and her flat stomach. Putting away the sponge, he used his soapy hands to knead her breasts special attending to her large and sensitive nipples. He then knelt down and went back to the soap and sponge to carefully scrub her legs from her feet and ankles all the way up to her taut thighs. The soap felt sensuous in his hands as coated her muscled inner thighs with the slippery cleanser enjoying feeling her firm body.

His hands slowly moved up into her crotch area as she obligingly spread up her legs wider to let him clean her lips and her bottom. He deliberately concentrated on soaping up all of her crevices and used his hands deep inside her to reach every fold. The excitement of his hands sliding all over her beautiful pussy caused his cock to swell up and slap against his belly. With her eyes closed she sensuously took in the warm shower and his intimate soapy caresses. Turning around she let the water sluice over her front rinsing away all of the soap. Then, she bent forward and placed her hand on the wall under the shower head arching her body with her legs spread wide open. Her bubble-bottom and her bare pussy looked beautiful and open to him still kneeling behind her. Knowing what she desired, Michael raised himself on his knees and placed his mouth on the puffy opening. He applied himself to licking the outer lips of her pussy up and down. Straining his neck he pushed his tongue inside her folds to lick her inner lips maddeningly up and down. She pressed herself on his face luxuriating in the pleasure his mouth was delivering. Wanting more she used one hand to reach his head to draw him in front of her. Compliantly he moved around to kneel in front of her and reapplied his face to pleasuring her sweet pussy. The stream of water came down on his back and head and his wet hair fell around his face as he licked the island of pussy hair and the stubbly area nearby where she had shaved herself. Slowly he moved down to the top of the slit. She was wet from the water and from her juices and tasted and smelt sweet. Focusing on the slit his tongue became a brush painting up and down. He could feel the large and puffy lips as he traced its every contour. His attentions had their due reward and he could feel her large clit rear up against his nose. One of her hands came down to hold his hair pulling him up towards her sensitive spot. Treating it like a nipple, he pursed his lips around it and proceeded to suck and lick the clitoris, gradually increasing the pace. After what seemed like eternity, she tensed and pressed his head onto herself, shuddering hard as she climaxed. Letting her rest for a few minutes, he cleaned her pussy again very tenderly with the soap and rinsed off his face, before getting up. Seeing his very stiff erection bobbing she wanted him to also come.

Carol turned Michael sideways in front of her and bent her face down to suck his neck and ear. She used soapy fingers to push into his anus and to squeeze his cock. He could feel her long hair streaming wet all over his body and her mouth taking soft bites at his neck. As one hand probed him deep inside pressing against the bulge of his prostate, the slippery fingers of the other hand teased the base of his engorged purplish head. Her tongue licked and probed his ear and her hands speeded up to a blur. This was too much for Michael and he climaxed again, spurting white jets of come on the wet floor.

Drying herself in a large fluffy towel and wrapping another one around her hair, she left him in the shower to go back to the living room. He too dried himself, combed out his hair, proceeded to apply the moisturizer all over his sore bottom and then put on a very short terry robe. As he came into the living room he could hear her on the phone. "Yes, Laurie, Michael was wonderful and I thoroughly enjoyed using him," he heard her say. "Don't worry he can stay with me until you come back Friday. I'll enjoy prettying him up and disciplining him. He can help me try out some new toys for the store and he'll be perfect for demonstrating the products. It'll be a blast for both of us. Ok, you go back to your meeting now, I'll tell Michael we talked." Michael's mind raced with the possibilities and despite the recent climax, his erection surged poking out from under the robe. He was thrilled at being able to spend the whole week with Carol and glad that Laurie approved.

He spent the entire time in bliss. Six nights of pleasure mixed with delicious new pain. Carol kept his bottom pink from regular disciplining and she took care to penetrate him often with the strap-on so he would be nice and ready for Laurie. His days were no less interesting as he spent time dressed as a pretty slut helping out Carol at the Velvet Nights.

Michael and Carol were back in her apartment after a terrific evening at her favorite club. At the dance club, he had orally served her with a voyeuristic audience watching and she had come spectacularly. Yet her hunger to take Michael had only been sharpened. Eager to take Michael with a strap-on, she had quickly driven them home from the club and ushered him upstairs.
Carol strode confidently over and beckoned to Michael. When he rose and rushed close to her, she ordered him to turn around and show off his naked body to her. He pirouetted in front of her compliantly showing off his sexy form. His stiff length pulsed out in front and the jingling metal waist chains held the silver plug up against his bottom. The rear silver chain neatly bisected his pretty arse. His naked body was slim and smooth and with his lithe form, long hair and the heavy makeup, he definitely looked very much like the girls she desired. He heard her draw a sharp breath at his display. He knew that she was pleased with his appearance and that she found him sexually very exciting.

"You are one hot bitch," she exclaimed. "I am going to enjoy punishing you and taking you tonight. Your pretty bottom is going to be bright red when I am through," she rasped in her desire. Grabbing his slight body she swung it over the ottoman face down so his arms and legs splayed over the four corners. Pulling out springy ropes with hooked ends from the cabinet, she secured his limbs to the rings on the floor with his legs pulled apart. His smooth bottom was well displayed over the curve of the ottoman as his cock pressed up against its side. Michael limbs strained against the ropes. He was going to be punished for the second time that evening but this time it would be more painful and in a way he hoped also more pleasurable. Before this evening he had never been punished physically especially in a sexual context. He found that strangely he enjoyed the embarrassment and pain of the experience. He very much wanted to see how much more exciting it would get but in a perverse way he also wanted to be hurt for straying from Laurie.

Ever since that evening when she had first slapped Michael's bare behind, Carol had felt a strong need to punish him hard but she had thus far controlled her urges. This simmering urge for dominance surged through her body and the two orgasms she had experienced from Michael's mouth had merely heightened this suppressed desire. Now, seeing his lithe body tied up and compliantly displayed she could no longer control herself. Finally his smooth white globes were bared and ready for castigation.

For tonight she preferred using the riding crop which was a springy but leather covered and ended in a small square of leather. The crop best could best express her urge and she was a master at making it play a concerto of pain on her slaves' bodies without drawing blood. Laurie had requested Carol to not mark him permanently in any way.

She tested the crop twice against the side of the ottoman and the sharp sounds made Michael twitch. She then dragged the crop down on his bare back and between his crease to touch his straining manhood. He shivered at the cold leather touching his skin. Whap! The first blow landed firmly on his left globe and he cried out more in shock than pain. The blow warmed his body from the blood coursing through the skin. Whap!! The second blow stung more as she increased the force. She again ran the crop's tip along the cleft of Michael's buttocks, first caressing and then raising the crop, bringing it down full force on one buttock and then the other. Slowly the sharp pain pulsed through his lower body as she unleashed her fury methodically delivering stinging blows but taking care to not cut his skin. Whap, whap, whap!! Her skill was evident in the intricate pattern she weaved on both his cheeks without drawing any blood. Raining blows left and right, she satisfied herself watching his bare behind slowly change to pale pink and then bright red. By now Michael was drenched in sweat. His face was swimming in tears even though his sexual excitement was now at a fever pitch. As occasional stingers teasingly landed on his stiff cock, he strained for release pushing his erection upwards seeking her blows. Carol finally felt sated from rendering the punishment and her hand was sore from hurting him. But, her sexual need to own him with her rubber cock had now reached a fever pitch. She undid his restraints and pulled him up. As he tottered up on his feet she sat down on the edge of a nearby sofa with her strap-on pointing out and motioned him to approach her. "Come here and suck me!"

Michael's rear felt like it was on fire but his sexual excitement was also at its peak. His cock was grossly swollen and dripping with precome. He wanted to do anything to please her and he badly wanted her to let him come. He fell down on his knees in front of her, gently grasped the giant strap-on and caressed its realistic texture. It felt huge in his small pale hands and transfixed with the object he opened his mouth to worship it. Once again he was going to suck a penis. His lipstick clad mouth covered the firm bulbous head and he gently sucked the rubbery tip. His tongue lubricated it all over slowly enjoying the excitement of the act until she grabbed his hair with both hands and pushed her strap-on deep into his mouth. The large artificial cock filled his mouth and stretched his throat. With her grip on his hair, Carol roughly fucked his mouth with the strap-on until his throat felt raw and his lips grew chapped. The back and forth motion pleasured Carol acutely. The base of the strap-on with its raised lip deliciously rubbed against her nub delivering jolts of pleasure, but she still wanted to plunge it deep inside him; she needed to take Michael.

She stopped fucking his face, stood up and pulled him up to her. Her mouth now searched and found his again. Repeating the evening's oral violation of his face her tongue ravaged the insides of his chapped mouth again just as her strap-on had recently done. She then turned him around and her hands grasped his oiled and bruised cheeks. She undid the waist chain and abruptly pulled out his butt plug making him feel empty inside. The special plug had opened him up wide and the slippery oil made it easy for access. But she knew that the large strap-on would still be a tight fit. She slapped his erection soft and then pulled out his cock ring from his shrinking member so he could finally find release. She held him close to her with one hand as her fingers plunged inside his open anus and proceeded to rub him inside. Having been whipped and facially fucked by her, he felt owned and was ready for her to take him. Once again he was going to experience being taken by a dominant woman with a strap-on.

She pushed him back face down on the now familiar ottoman but did not restrain him with ropes. His hands clutched the side of the ottoman and with his chest and face flat against the cold leather he arched his back slightly upwards to present her with his behind. Michael's knees did not reach the floor so he did not have much leverage and his back muscles strained to push his bottom upwards. Since the ottoman was tall his bare bottom did come up to the right height for her. His full ass cheeks had now faded to a dull pink color but the darker lines from the crop were now visible running criss cross across them. Between the spread cheeks his anus gaped wide open inviting her to fill it. Carol rubbed her strap-on with some more oil from the side table to make it easier for her enjoyment and prepared to fuck her new boy whore. Anyone looking into the room from one of the adjacent building would next be witnessing a large black woman with a strap-on ready anally taking her white boy toy .

Carol desired his beautiful body, compliant, willing and waiting for her to mount and take her pleasure. From the moment he had walked into her store she had lusted after Michael. His transformation into a sexually attractive boy whore for the visit to the club, his supine submissiveness and his overt oral pleasuring of her, all combined to make her innate dominant nature come alive. With her every need, she wanted to rape him hard and take his slutiness for herself. The visit to the club had dangerously sharpened this craving as she knew it would. She now wanted him to please her with his bottom so that she could come over and over again from fucking him. Her mounting need made her proceed quickly to take her pleasure from him.

Michael felt himself being readied by her. His extremely vulnerable posture and the anticipation of serving her in this way made him scale the heights of sexual arousal. His organ freed from its restraint now swelled under him with his excitement. He could feel the wetness on his belly from his cock's almost continual secretions.

She lifted his thighs wide with her hands and positioned his anus to push in the oil slicked strap-on and fill him up. She could still see the lipstick stains near its base that came from violating his face. In turn, Michael felt her probe his rear entrance with the strap-on and electric sensations ran up his back. His spine tingled as the bulbous head popped through his oiled and open sphincter. She probed forward slowly all the way until her thighs hit the ottoman. The feeling of fullness now enveloped him. Even though the metal butt plug had bulged inside him most of the evening, it was nothing compared to this large beast now taking the same space. But being loved this way was something he had indeed missed dearly. Hopefully now that he had bought the strap-on, Laurie would be doing a lot more of this, both for her, and definitely for his pleasure.

The chocolate brown strap-one that he had picked out was sizable so initially Carol moved in and out slowly until his muscles could stop resisting and loosen up. It took a few slow strokes for her to feel him relax. After a few minutes she felt her movements become easier. Grasping his thighs tightly she started to move quickly back and forth. She was finally fucking him hard and the feeling of using this boy slut was fantastic. She aggressively proceeded to give his ass a thorough fucking. Being used like this by her brought up all of his submissive desires to the highest level. He enjoyed the feeling of servicing a woman purely for her pleasure. He loved the mental picture of him face down with his ass held high up and being taken by a very attractive dominant lover. His face twisted and groaned in pleasure at the friction and pressure of the experience. The sheer sensations here and now overwhelmed him. Carol's rough attentions continued and the pressure on bottom and on his prostate was exhilarating. His chest and stomach were now soaked with the secretions from his organ. At the back of his mind he knew that they must be putting on a fantastic show to any late insomniac in the nearby buildings.

Carol's vigorous plunging made her clit the center of attention from the raised protrusion at the rear of the strap-on. The constant and furious fucking was massaging her clitoris so very well. Her physical pleasure was augmented by her mental satisfaction of taking her lover. Doing what she wanted to do all evening she felt the rush of possessing him. She slowly built up her pleasure and sensed that she was nearing her release from the powerful fucking she was giving Michael. But she needed something more to get off!

She knew that seeing his face and hearing his screams as she plunged into him would complete her pleasure and send her over the top. So, pulling herself out, she grabbed his prone body and flipped him over. His dripping erection slapped hard against his already wet stomach. Submissively his hands went up over his head. Carol lifted his legs up over her shoulders spreading him out and preparing to fuck his ass. He felt her slam into his distended anus again and bury herself deep inside. With her hands tightly gripping his slim thighs she pounded his bottom seeking to push the strap-on to even greater depths. Every few strokes she pulled fully out of him and used the extra momentum to bury her strap-on deep. Slapping sounds from her body slamming his bottom filled the air.

Michael's eyes were partially shut and tears rolled down both sides of his face. His mouth was open with silent screams from the pain and pleasure. Carol's hands were clawing at Michael's thighs pressing her nails into his flesh. She realized that she had never been so rough with her lovers before. She could see that the front of his thighs were nearly the same shade of pink as his chastised bottom. The visual evidence of Michael's physical pain actually increased her arousal even more and she slapped Michael hard on his face turning it bright red and eliciting cries of pain. His screams finally helped push her over the edge and she shuddered in a tremendous climax with her juices streaming down between her legs.

Seeing her orgasm seemed like the unconscious signal to Michael and the continual rubbing on his prostate finally pushed him to ejaculate. A copious stream of thick come spurted from Michael's cock. The sexual excitement from the entire evening of teasing had built up a tremendous reservoir of sperm which erupted out like a geyser. Gobs of cream sprayed on his chest and some even on his face. Seeing him finally come, she gave one last thrust and pulled out of Michael, releasing his thighs. As she shakily got up, Michael lay collapsed on the ottoman enjoying the release of his sexual tension. His ass, thighs and waist felt like they were on fire and he was strangely empty inside but he also felt thoroughly sexually satisfied. The strap-on session was everything he had imagined and wanted and Carol was a wonderful dominant partner. Michael could not wait to show her his gratitude!

Continued in part five...

Michael and Carol came to her apartment after their eventful evening at Carol's sex boutique. Michael had been sent to her shop by her friend Laurie to buy a strap-on and Carol had decided to teach Michael a lesson.
Carol sensed his diffidence and with her gloved hand she turned back Michael's face and pulled it forcefully into her wet cleft. Her legs went over his shoulders to hold him against her and to slide down and push herself onto his mouth. Freed from his averseness by her grasping hand and partially sheltered by her large thighs, Michael's mouth dutifully went to work licking at her thick nether lips and slaking his thirst. He lapped up her oozing juices enjoying the tangy and sweet effusion. He put his hands around her thighs to hold on to her. As she opened up, he then proceeded to push his stiff tongue in and out, fucking her deep pink inner lips. She growled in pleasure at his actions and her legs wrapped around his neck drawing him closer to her. The metal buckles on her boots scrapped his shoulders. He ignored the sting from the buckles and proceeded to lick his way to the top of her puffy dark colored slit and pressed his tongue on her swollen hood. As he lapped her fleshy hood, her large purplish clit extended itself out like a very small cock. He then dedicated himself to sucking the stiff clitoris slowly enjoying the experience and wanting her also to delight in his service.

Needing a faster pace, she grabbed his thick ponytail and used her legs around his back to rub his face up and down on her engorged clit, fast. Michael was in heaven at the experience of having his face fucked by a powerful woman completely in her control. The fact that they were putting on a display in front of an audience at a club made it even more exhilarating. He badly wanted to come and felt the overwhelming need to touch himself but remembering her orders he tried to concentrate on her pleasure instead. More liquid that he could ever imagine filled his mouth as she strained to come. She was now engrossed in seeking her release and her vodka glass went flying as both her hands clutched his hair. Her hands twisted his slick ponytail and pulled hard drowning his head in her pussy. Michael's face could now no longer move of its own accord as she furiously continued rubbing it up and down on her clit using his nose and mouth as her fuck toy. The coarse tuft of her pubic hair felt like sandpaper as he was rubbed up and down on her sensitive spot. Finally with a muffled scream she pulled his face even deeper onto herself and climaxed powerfully with even more juice gushing out. His face and neck were completely drenched as was the bar seat. She had come spectacularly for the second time from his oral skills!

Pushing away his head, she pulled her boot-clad legs from around his neck and stood up shakily. Abruptly let loose from her hold, he slumped down at her feet. His entire face was covered by her juices, his tongue and mouth felt numb but his member was still very stiff and pressing painfully against his g-string. He ached for release from his sexual arousal. His leather clothing while slightly wet had not suffered from his actions, but his earrings had fallen off and he slowly put them back on. His waterproof makeup while a bit smeared had not run down his face. He now understood why he was asked to use the waterproof set.

The bar tender brought another vodka to her and drinking it slowly, she recovered her composure. Her wet thighs were drying but still tingled from her recent high. Despite the two orgasms from cunnilingus, her sexual desires were not yet sated but had just been honed. She was now impatient to take Michael home so that she could use him hard and extract her pleasure. She snapped her coat shut and quickly dragged the bedraggled Michael out of the club. The valet quickly brought her coupe over but was little disappointed shat she was now all covered up. They drove even faster than usual back to her apartment building. When they returned there it was nearly 1am on Sunday. Michael knew that his wait for his rear to be filled was nearing an end and he was going to be used well by her strap-on!

Continued in part four...