Loading...The car arrives promptly at 09.30 hours, as stated on the card she had opened when she rose that morning. Sara has her small handbag with her, a light coat, and nothing else. Dressed smartly in a blouse and knee length skirt she closes and locks the front door, making her way down the path on sensible 2 inch heels, sheer stockings swishing together as she approaches the sleek black Mercedes that awaits her. A liveried chauffeur steps from the car and opens the rear door as she approaches.
“Morning, ma’am.” The tone is perfunctory, polite but detached, letting her know that he will not be conversing any further with her. She ignores him and slides into the sleek leather interior, the heady smell of luxury wrapping her tightly as the door closes, the world dimmed by the tinted windows. On the back seat is an envelope, plain white, good quality paper, and completely blank. She knows this is for her, and she opens it as the chauffeur starts the car and they glide away towards London.
The card inside the envelope feels rich in her hands, thick and strong, suitable for the issuing of instructions. On it is the first part of her instructions, typed in plain text and bold printed. “Remove your panties and place them on the seat next to you. Do not touch them again, no matter what happens to them.” A warm thrill bubbles inside of her as she looks up, noticing that the screen between her and the driver is opaque, a sheet of anonymous black. She briefly wonders if this is for her own privacy or if it is to avoid upsetting the driver.
She slides her silky skirt up over her thighs and gently pulls her panties down, the pale silk slithering on her skin then her stockings as she lowers them to the floor of the car and steps out of them. She then places them tidily on the seat next to her, smoothing out the folds as she lays them flat, before gently rearranging her skirt down to her knees and placing the envelope in her handbag. She sits and waits, patiently, her hands folded in her lap as the shark like executive car insinuates itself into the traffic, ruthlessly taking her to her first appointment.
* * * * *
They pull over outside an anonymous building in Covent Garden, and she waits patiently as the chauffeur parks and lets her out of the car. Looking neither left nor right she calmly walks towards the door in front of her. A plain glass door with no writing on it, just a number, etched into its surface. Opening the door she is welcomed into a world of quiet and cool. A gentle aura of fragrance surrounds her and calms her as she approaches the chic white desk and the equally chic receptionist behind it.
“Hello, we were expecting you” the receptionist chirps as she rises to her feet. “This way, please.” Her lithe, young wiggle leads the way through a maze of snow blindness inducing corridors to a pale green room, where she steps aside and allows Sara to pass through.
“Take your clothes off and lay on the bench, someone will be in to see you soon.” And with that the door closes, the wiggle no doubt disappearing back to its desk as Sara looks around her. In one corner there is a folded screen, and in the centre of the room is what looks remarkably like the benches used for a gynecological examination, stirrups and all, which in its turn is next to the most fanciful and evil looking machine, with all manner of tubes and protrusions clipped to it. A little daunted now she opts to step behind the screen to undress, and folds it out to do so. But there it is. Another little envelope pinned neatly to the first panel that she folds out. She removes the pin and opens it, sliding the card out. “No modesty screens today. Get undressed and lay on the bench. You are to make no noise at all while you are here.”
Her hands shake gently as she places the card back in its envelope, and the envelope in her handbag, which she then places on a solitary chair against the wall. She deftly unbuttons her blouse and slips it from her back, her bra follows, small breasts staying firm and pert as the fabric falls away, then her skirt, lowered carefully and she steps out of it, careful not to get it dirty on the floor. All of these she folds carefully and places on the chair. Then her suspender belt, unclasping the catches to one stocking so she can carefully roll the sheer fabric off her leg, then folding the gossamer gauze and adding it to the pile. Then the other leg, and finally the belt itself undone and laid with care. Her shoes she places neatly on the floor, under the chair.
The bench is warmer than she was anticipating, yet the leather still snags at her soft skin as she mounts it. It’s tall, and she has to use a little step to get up there. As she lays back she notices the loops and chains on the side of the bench and her breath catches in her throat. She has no idea what will happen to her here, no concept of what this place is, she has never been here before or seen the receptionist anywhere else. This is all of his doing, and she knows that she will have to do as she is commanded, so she lays back, eyes wide, and blushes as she slides her legs up into the stirrups that wait for her. The cool air in the room brushes against her naked skin, finding moist patches and playing with them to send a shiver through her.
It is only a couple of minutes before the door opens and a woman dressed all in white enters the room. She does not look at Sara; she does not speak to her. In her gloved hands she carries a small pot, which she places in a hole on the top of the fantabulous contraption near Sara’s head. The woman is blonde, her hair piled up on top of her head in curls that tumble wantonly down again, making Sara want to tuck the hair back into the glittering clasp that holds the creamy tresses.
Opening a cupboard the woman gets out leather cuffs, two sets, and two leather straps with clips at each end. Without consultation of any sort she begins to strap Sara into the cuffs at wrist and ankle, the wrists going above Sara’s head, and then she clips the cuffs to the bench, so Sara is restrained. One belt goes across Sara’s pelvis, the other across her chest, above her breasts, pinning her firmly. At no time does the woman make eye contact, and Sara does not seek it.
Opening the pot that she has brought, the woman begins to stir the contents with a wooden spatula, similar to a tongue depressor. Sara can see little in her peripheral vision, but the mirror helpfully placed overhead lets her see herself completely exposed, legs spread wide, body available. She blushes at the sight and closes her eyes.
The warmth on her leg surprises her. It’s gentle, yet enveloping, and she opens her eyes, trying to see what is happening. It’s immediately followed by an extreme of pain, a sharp, stinging sensation as the wax is ripped away from her tender flesh, tearing hairs from her skin. As she realizes what is happening, Sara relaxes and the pain that was egged on by shock soon subsides. She’s had her legs waxed before, so this is nothing new, just unexpected. She relaxes as her legs are waxed, parts of the bench being manipulated to allow access to all the skin. Her legs begin to tingle, feeling smooth yet irritated at the same time, and the cool breeze plays across the tender flesh to maximum effect, inducing stinging nettle tingling.
The woman moves onto Sara’s arms. More painful, yet Sara knows this will be quick and easy, the woman clearly knows exactly what she’s doing, so she bites her lip and waits for the flushes of hot and cold that go with the ripping out of hairs. Both arms done, Sara relaxes, closing her eyes, knowing that it is over, and she will soon be dressing again. She looks forward to the soothing creams that will now be applied.
Sara’s eyes pop as she feels the wax land on her bikini line. She had forgotten about that. Well, summer is coming, and she knows how much he prefers her well trimmed and tidied, so the pain will be worth it. But the wax doesn’t stop at the usual modest tidy up, it goes further, slackening Sara’s jaw as it spreads over her entire pubic mound. She feels a hand laying on the fabric strip and knows that this is not going to be pleasant, but she remembers the command on the card and balls her hands into fists, squeezing her eyes tight shut as the rip comes, her gentlest flesh feeling like it’s being torn from her body, her scream bottled in her chest as tears begin to well in her eyes. She prays for mercy from this woman, but there is to be none. The wax is back again.
This time it has the help of fingers, spreading her bottom, opening her lips and pulling flesh taught as every single possible place that a hair could grow around her sex is smothered in warm gloop and then patted down with a fabric strip before being harshly yanked away. Sweat has broken out all over Sara and she flushes from ice to sizzling hot as the sensations consume her, exploding inside her head as she tries so very hard not to make a sound, her body fighting the straps that restrain her so tightly. Then it’s over. Those same fingers are now applying creams, massaging her skin, rubbing in the soothing ointments that will ensure she has no rash. Her breath returns to her body and she begins to relax as the immediacy of the pain subsides. Those fingers are working magic, easing muscles, cooling the heat, yet they’re making their own heat, too, and moisture. The fingers feel free to roam over Sara’s clit, flicking and rubbing, bringing her close to climax before sliding inside her, heading straight for her G spot and tipping her quickly into orgasm.
Sara gasps, her body shaking under this new onslaught as she cums, not noticing that creams are now applied to her legs and underarms, too, and that she has been freed from her restraints. As the blonde leaves the room she finally catches Sara’s attention.
“Get dressed, your car is waiting.” And the door closes.
* * * * *
It took Sara a good fifteen minutes to regain her composure, dress and leave the waxing salon. She hadn’t been able to resist touching herself, checking the damaged area, and surprised to find that her touch instantly aroused herself again. It felt so smooth, so clean, her fingers felt like someone else’s when she gently stroked the area. She was still flushed, but she was back in the car where the air conditioning had been thoughtfully raised to counter her flush.
It finally occurred to her to look at the seat next to her, and when she did so she found her panties gone.
* * * * *
Next stop was lunch, a treat for her at her favourite restaurant. Escorted swiftly and silently to her table she was unsurprised now to find an envelope waiting on her plate. She was, however, surprised by the table, which was on a raised dais in the centre of the restaurant. Feeling very conspicuous she opened the envelope and read the card. A flush immediately filled her face and she looked down, sure that everyone else would have read the words on the card. After a moment she looked around her, checking to see if anyone was watching, before she began to shuffle in her seat. First her hands went behind her, undoing the catch on her bra, then fled swiftly back to her lap, another flush taking over the work of the first one. The blouse that had been chosen for her that morning was quite sheer. Not completely see through, but enough that outlines could be ascertained, and the contrast of the lace on her bra against her skin was noticeable.
Swallowing she tucked her right thumb under her collar above her left shoulder and nudged the strap of her bra off. It immediately plummeted to her elbow and she pulled it over the elbow then over her hand, stuffing the fabric back into her blouse before anyone could see what she was doing. Another look round, no one seemed to be paying her any attention, and she took a sip of ice water to steady herself. Left thumb, right shoulder, and it was done. The bra was off and resting under the level of the table inside her blouse, her pert breasts now holding the fabric of her blouse out on erect nipples. Carefully un-tucking her blouse she pulled the flimsy garment free and stuffed it quickly in her handbag. She reached for the card and read again the words. “Whilst sitting at the table, remove your bra. You are not to wear it for the rest of the day. You are not to slouch at the table, but to sit with your shoulders back. A waiter will remove the garment from you to prevent temptation.” The card slid easily back into its envelope and thence into her handbag, which she kept on her lap. Another sip of cold water and she finally sat completely upright, shoulders back, ankles crossed and tucked under the chair. Waiting.
A group of three waiters appeared, each carrying a plate covered by a metal dome. The first plate was laid before her and the waiter whisked away the cover to reveal a seafood salad. The second plate hovered before her and the waiter solemnly intoned
“Madam, I believe you have something for me.” This was not a request, it was an instruction, and she blushed to her roots as she obeyed, balling her bra tight into her fist and placing in under the dome that lowered even as she released the fabric. Then the plate was removed and a third took its place. As the dome was raised high and the plate tilted slightly towards her Sara gasped. On the plate were two pegs made of highly polished chrome steel. She looked up at the waiter who merely moved the platter closer to her. Eyes downcast she slid her hand up and grasped the pegs firmly before slipping them straight into her handbag. The waiters left and she breathed a sigh of relief. Relief that was to be short lived. A waitress arrived with a glass of Champagne and yet another envelope. Sara was dreading the contents and nearly put it to one side, yet knew that she had to open it immediately or suffer the consequences.
The card shook in her hand as she read the text. “Well done, enjoy your meal and the one glass of Champagne, there will be fresh strawberries and cream for your dessert which you will eat using your fingers and no cutlery. When you are done the car will be waiting for you.” Her tense muscles sagged, there was to be no more humiliation, no more embarrassment until she had finished her lunch, and she had the very fine compensations of an excellent lunch and a glass of her favourite Champagne to enjoy as well. The day was certainly an intriguing one.
* * * * *
By the time she had finished her lunch Sara had realized that the other diners were too self absorbed to notice her nudity, that only she knew she wore no panties, and that if anyone saw her nipples that strained against the blouse in the air conditioned air they were only appreciating them. The good food and the slight buzz of the Champagne buoyed her spirits as she left the restaurant and slid into the dark womb of the limousine.
Their next stop was an hotel, a very plush one at that, right on Park Lane, and she was immediately escorted to a suite with a perfect view over London and the park. Sara was beginning to enjoy herself, relishing these rare tastes of luxury as she stepped out of her shoes and her toes curled into the deep carpet. An envelope lay on the bed, this one a bit thicker than the others, and she quickly tore it open and removed two cards.
“You are to shower and wash your hair. A hairdresser, manicurist and make up artist will knock on the door at precisely 16.00 hours. After they have finished with you, you may read the second card. Do not read the second card until then. Do not open the closet. Do not open the window. Do not use the phone. Do not attempt to communicate with anyone who enters the room. Open the room to all who knock at the door. ”
Well, that was very precise. Feeling a touch rebellious Sara walked to the closet, only to notice when she grasped the handle that there was a little tag on there. The tag was numbered, and in its own fragile way it ensured that she could not open the door without it being known, as it would break off from the other handle should the doors be pulled back.
Well, she thought, perhaps not knowing for now won’t kill me, and I could certainly use that shower. She made her way into the marble bathroom with its huge Jacuzzis bath, double basins, bidet and toilet set and a wonderfully ornate shower full of body jets and steam nozzles. Recognizing the obvious torture her Dom intended for her at this point she allowed her clothes to fall to the floor about her as she stepped into the enclosure and turned the taps. She spent ages in there, trying all the settings, even the sauna, using all the wonderfully exotic toiletries that had been placed there for her use, and completely indulging herself. She stayed so long that she almost missed the first knock on the door.
True to instruction, the hairdresser, manicurist and make up artist all arrived in turn, each tending to her, dressing her hair perfectly, filing and painting finger and toe nails to glorious effect and skillfully applying make up so that when they left and Sara looked in the mirror she didn’t recognize this graceful beauty that looked back at her. Her hand lifted to touch her face, to confirm that it was her, and she saw her slender finger now tipped with an almond of scarlet that shone like glass. She’d never felt so beautiful in her whole life, not when she married, not when her children were born, never. A sob rose in her throat and she fought it, not willing to sacrifice her mascara to sentimentality. But she couldn’t stop looking at herself. Eventually she moved from the small mirror over the dressing table to the cheval mirror opposite the bed and she dropped the plush robe that wrapped her to the floor in an unceremonious heap.
Sara hadn’t looked at herself for a long time. She hadn’t wanted anyone else to look at her, either. She had been too busy, too caked in playdough and baby food. Too busy on school runs and making tea for small mouths that seemed to spill more than they consumed. Too tired at night to do more than stand briefly under the shower and hide her body again in a drab nightgown before falling into bed. But she looked now, and she felt her youth return.
She ran those scarlet tipped fingers over herself, noticing how the stretch marks had finally faded, that the muscles had tightened again over her frame as she’d been chasing toddlers in the park, that some how, while she wasn’t looking, someone had erased the intervening years, the stresses and pains, the bulges and creases and given her back her beautiful body. It was no longer youthful, that she knew, it had obviously changed, more curved here, less flat there, but now it was the body of a woman not a girl. There was no innocence there, it was ripe and fecund, her sexuality wrapped itself around her like the snake in the Garden of Eden and her eyes gleamed with joy and pride. She recalled his words on their anniversary, how she was told that he had been neglecting her, that she was more than a wife and mother, that she was his submissive and that he was going to reclaim her. She hadn’t felt it at the time, but now, looking at herself in the mirror, she believed him. The second card eventually summoned her back to the bed and she carefully read it and smiled.
* * * * *
The limousine disgorged her as close as possible to the base of the London Eye and she was eagerly escorted into one of the large pods for her husbands cocktail party. This was a works affair, so she didn’t know any of the faces there, but they all turned to look as she stood in the doorway, the sheer grey silk sheath turning her body into a perfect steel sculpture, sucking onto her every curve, revealing not a stitch underneath. There was no shame this time, she stood there proudly, nipples erect as she scanned the pod seeking out her husbands gleaming gaze. He smiled at her, pleased with how she looked, and came forward to escort her inside.
“You look beautiful” he whispered in her ear as the door closed behind them and the pod began to move. “Thank you, Sir.” She kept her eyes ahead of her as he escorted her round, making sure she had a glass of champagne and that she was introduced to everyone. He took her spare hand and wrapped it round his forearm, keeping her so close to him that she could sense the heat of his body through his suit.
In no time at all the requisite ups and downs and circuits of the room came to a gentle stop and the pod began to empty. Sara waited patiently with her husband, a little confused when he held her back.
“Let’s look at the view instead, shall we?” He suggested. A quizzical expression on her face she turned to look outside the pod as people came and went behind her. “David,” she got no further, a tug on her wrist immediately told her that she had mis-spoken. “I expect you to remain silent until I give you permission to speak.” A tingle ran along her spine, those words, that tone of voice, she hadn’t heard either since before the twins were born. “You know, Sara, I’ve done two things wrong in our marriage.” She looked up at him in surprise, but he was staring straight ahead, at the river. “One was forgetting to take proper care of you, and the other was forgetting to punish you. Tonight I shall be addressing both those mistakes. Do you have the pegs with you?” “Yes sir.” She pulled them from her tiny clutch purse. “Good. Hitch your skirt up and attach them to your clit.” She jumped! Looking round she saw that the pod had changed behind them. There was now a dinner table laid in the centre, and the attendants were all facing outwards, not one of them showing any sign that they had heard a thing. “Now Sara” he repeated. “I don’t expect to have to wait for your obedience.”
Sara looked to either side of the pod, realizing that as it turned they were obscured from the pods on either side, then she slid up her skirt and obeyed. The pegs were cold and hard, digging into her flesh and she sucked in her breath as they closed over her tenderness. Still he waited, not looking at her, not acknowledging her presence until he heard the silk fall back to the floor and her hands smooth it flat.
“Shall we dine?” He asked as he turned towards her, smiling. She managed a fragile smile back at him as he took her arm and steered her into her chair. She did not notice the food, nor the view, nor the number of times her glass was refilled. She was transfixed by the throb between her legs, the slowly mounting pain that drew her attention away from everything else and made moisture gently seep from her. It must have been an hour before they left the pod, her husband helping her from her seat and escorting her back to the limousine, but Sara was in a state of trance, her body incapable of focusing on anything other than the now sharp and frantic pain from the very centre of her being. She winced as she sat in the car and her husband noticed. “Would you care to be relieved of those my dear?” he asked solicitously. “Yes please, sir, if it pleases you to release me from them.” His hand stroked her breast and he smiled into her face, closing in on her mouth as if for a kiss. “That’s a good girl; you’re starting to remember your manners.” His fingers pinched her nipple and twisted hard, wringing a moan from her. It felt to Sara as if that nipple was directly attached to her clitoris and she couldn’t help but feel an orgasm build from the double stimulation.
With absolutely no ceremony at all he tipped her onto her back on the wide seat, grasped her ankles, swinging her legs wide as he moved between her thighs. She didn’t even think to see if the modesty panel was opaque, she no longer cared if the chauffer watched or not, she felt completely safe and secure. As he removed the pegs from her clit her husband licked round them, cleaning up the juices that had spilled from her and bringing her quickly to a state of high arousal. His tongue slipped up and down her slit, spreading her lips as he lapped at her before plunging into her cunt, his teeth resting on her as he dug deeper, seeking and finding the spot he wanted. Her back began to arch and she started to lose control. His finger joined in, one hand massaging her lips and the other probing her anus, fingers spreading her hole wide as he continued to tongue her, sucking greedily on the juices that sprang forth with her orgasm,
Even in her state of ecstasy Sara felt something larger probing at her ass, something hard and very cold. She tried to relax more, allowing the heavy steel butt plug into her body, her sphincter closing tightly round the base, trapping it there. As quickly as he had descended on her, her husband pulled away, wiping his face on his handkerchief and looking as though not the slightest thing in the world had happened. Were it not for the butt plug, the fact that her body was shaking, she was half naked and the car smelled of her cum she could have been fooled herself. Sara carefully sat up, making sure to keep the butt plug in place as she rearranged her clothing. By the time the chauffeur pulled up at the hotel and the doorman opened the car door for them they were again the most demure of couples.
Steered to the lift, Sara waited patiently by the side of her Master feeling the weight of the butt plug pull at her muscles. Walking across the highly polished floor had been a difficult exercise for more reasons that slippery high heels. She proceeded her husband into the lift and turned and waited again as he pressed the button for their floor. After a few moments he pressed another button and the lift slowed and stopped between the floors. “Kneel” he commanded, and she did. “You know what to do next” he told her as he stepped in front of her. She did. She carefully undid his trousers and pulled them and his underpants down just enough to release his very erect cock. A drop or pre-cum glistened on the end and her tongue flicked out to remove it. Gently taking him in her hand she began to stroke his length as her tongue swirled over the tip, through the slit, under the head, never stopping in its movements. Her grip changed a little, became firmer but lower, and her mouth lowered itself over his head. She heard him moan above her, knowing the satisfaction she was providing him. “Mmm, you always were a good little sucker. Maybe I should spend some time staying home and send you out to earn a living with that mouth of yours, my little whore?” His hands tangled in her hair, rocking her head back and forth as he began to fuck her mouth, pushing further back until he was hitting the back of her mouth, yet she knew he wouldn’t stop there. “Open wide” he told her as he forced his cock down her throat, pushing into her mouth more than it could possibly hold and feeling her swallow down the tip of his penis. He pushed harder still, forcing more of it into her. “Oh God that’s good.”
Sara remained calm, even though she now couldn’t breathe. She trusted him, they had done this many times before and she knew that if she panicked it would spoil everything. He withdrew and she quickly exhaled and breathed in again, holding her breath as the cock pushed back against her gag reflex, sliding a little easier down her throat this time, and a little further. He kept doing this until his cock was completely in her mouth and throat, her lips pressed against his pubic bone and testicles, then he looked down and stroked her face. “Such a pretty sight. Good girl.” Then his body shook and he came, emptying his balls down her throat, straight into her stomach. “Good girl!” It took a moment before his cock subsided enough that Sara could breathe again, but still she remained calm. As he withdrew she could taste his semen, and she licked him clean to make sure none of it escaped. He tucked himself away, did up his trousers and told her to stand, then pressed the button on the panel again to continue their journey.
The lift stopped gently at their floor and the doors opened. As her husband motioned for her to lead the way he guided her with his hand on her bottom, whispering in her ear “let’s see what other surprises tonight has in store for us, shall we?”
* * * * *
David ran the key card through the hotel room door lock and the mechanism opened. He pushed the door further open and motioned his wife to enter their suite. He watched his wife walk through with her cool demeanour intact, despite the heavy steel butt plug that she was fighting to keep in place. He knew that demeanour was about to be destroyed and he was going to enjoy being the architect of its destruction.
Sara took six steps into the room and stopped, allowing enough room for David to pass, yet not presuming to venture too far in case it was not what he wished. She heard the door close behind her and David passed her by, dropping his key card on the dresser, and add the contents of his pockets to the pile before removing his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. He took his cufflinks out and placed them carefully to one side and began folding his cuffs back.
“You’ve had a fine old time of it these past few years, haven’t you?” Sara remained silent as he approached her, his strong forearms now bared. “I’ve let you dress as you wish, speak as you wish, eat as you wish, go where you want, when you want. You’ve even spent my money as it pleased you. And what have I got in return for all those freedoms?” David walked round her, circling her as he continued. “I’ve had a sloppy housewife, dressed in drab, baggy clothing and covered in baby spit. I’ve had my dinner at all hours, served with no courtesy and little thought or appreciation for what I do for you. I’ve had shirts that went un-ironed, socks that were not matched, a house that was dirty and untidy. Things are about to change Sara. Enough is enough. The time has come for you to get your act together, and I’m going to help you do that. I’m going to help you by making sure that you know explicitly the punishment that you can receive for failing me again. Is that clear?” Sara’s voice caught and her mouth opened uselessly, she was shaking with very genuine fear now.
His hand came swiftly up, the back of his knuckles slamming into her cheek and spinning Sara’s head round. She gasped and blood spattered from her mouth as her teeth cut into her cheek.
“I asked you a question, bitch.” “Sorry, sir” Sara dissembled as she tried to recall the question. “Yes, sir.” “Yes, what?” Her scrambled brain dug desperately for the question that was asked. “It’s clear, sir.” She saw his face soften and managed to let go the breath that she held, she’d got it right. “Good. Now let’s see how much we need to beat this lesson into you, shall we?” David walked to the dresser and opened the drawers. He began pulling out his favourite toys, the scalpels, the needles, a flogger, a riding crop, several paddles, nipple clams, clit clamps, a speculum, a selection of butt plugs and dildos, a magic wand, a gag, a dental clamp, a pair of surgical clamps, several canes, suture kits, the inventory seemed never ending. Sara kept her eyes straight ahead, trying not to watch, not to anticipate, not to taste the blood in her mouth or let the butt plug fall.
“Now, what have I forgotten?” David posed briefly, his hand to his face. “Ah, yes, how silly of me.” Turning away he strode to the bedroom door and opened it. “You can come out now.”
Sara watched as the three waiters from the restaurant walked through the doorway, followed by the waitress. The men were all naked, except for elbow length vinyl gloves, and the girl wore the biggest strap on Sara had ever seen in her life. One of the men carried a tall bench that was clearly designed to have someone tied over it. Saras legs went to jelly and she heard the thud as the butt plug dropped to the floor.
“Oh dear,” said David. “Was that what I think it was?” Sara was too petrified to move. If she bent her knees at all she would simply sink to the ground. David walked round her and lifted the hem of her dress to see the shiny plug lying on the carpet. “Tut, tut, tut. Muscles not quite what they used to be, eh? Or perhaps it’s your resolve that needs seeing to.” Sara felt him bend as he picked up the plug, and her dress dropped to the floor again. “Strip” he commanded. “I didn’t spend a fortune on that dress for you to damage it, take it off. Now.”
She did as she was told, unzipping the dress and carefully stepping out of it, wobbling slightly as she did so. David took the dress from her hand and hung it up carefully in the closet. Meanwhile the man with the bench placed it directly in front of Sara, his erect cock bobbing at her as he stared at her nakedness. He was not an unattractive man, in his late 20’s, dark hair and blue eyes, a combination that many women find irresistible. Clean shaven, tousled hair, a saucy grin and nicely defined muscles without too many bulges, and a clean shaven cock, too, a straight forward 9 inches of erection with the girth of a small fist. Sara couldn’t help but widen her eyes when she saw it. She swallowed and moved her eyes promptly back to unfocussed and straight ahead.
“What do you think of my wife, Lorenzo?” David asked the waiter. “Not bad, for a slut” Lorenzo replied, his eyes strolling over nipples and hips, staring into the crack between Saras thighs as if he could open them by looking hard enough. His tongue moistened his bottom lip. “Yes, she’s not bad. Strap her to the bench would you, and point her face this way.” Sara heard David settle himself on a chair behind her as Lorenzo took her arm and steered her round the bench. Another waiter came forward, a blond this time, and brought with him restraints, which he proceeded to buckle onto her wrists. The third waiter, shaven headed, buckled Sara’s ankles into cuffs and clipped them to the bench. Lorenzo pushed his body up behind Sara, his cock forcing apart the cheeks of her arse and pressing into her back as he wrapped an arm round her waist and bent her forward.
Sara was starting to panic now. What on earth was David going to allow? He’d never let anyone else into their play before, that had been agreed upon early in their marriage, her submission was only for him. She didn’t know the rules of this new game and she shook violently as her wrists were clipped to the bench.
From beside him on the chair David produced a scroll, which Sara immediately recognised as her slavery contract, which had been signed and sealed long before a wedding ring was put on her finger. David began to read from the scroll.
“I, the undersigned submissive, agree that in cases where I have committed multiple sins in failing to offer my Dom the care and service that he is due, that my Dom may punish me in any way he deem fit, and that I shall willingly and gladly submit to this punishment, or the punishment may be increased in severity or duration until my wilful disobedience is broken. Do you remember those words Sara?” She nodded. “Do you remember signing that oath?” Again she nodded. “Do those words still mean anything to you, Sara?” “Yes, sir” the fearful whisper broke from her throat. “I’m glad they still hold meaning for you, because those words are your downfall now. I shall punish you tonight as you have never been punished before. I shall ensure that you will never again neglect my wants or needs, that you will never again present yourself to me in anything other than the condition that I require, which reflects my status in the world. You will remember this night for the rest of your pathetic little life and you will pray with all your heart that you never make me do this to you again. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.” David smiled and sat back in the chair, rolling the scroll in his hands. “Good. Then you will remain silent until I instruct you otherwise, and these lovely boys and girls are going to have their fun with you. However they choose. There is no safe word; you have no right of appeal. You are here entirely for their pleasure and that alone.”
As David spoke the bald waiter stepped up to Sara and began to piss on her back. The hot liquid seared into her soul, humiliating her as it ran down her shoulders, into her hair, into her face, up her nose. She could taste it in her mouth and tried to spit it out, but received a knee in the ribs for doing so. “If it goes in your mouth, you swallow it, bitch” the bald man said. Sara shut her mouth and nose and hoped she wouldn’t have to hold her breath for long. He seemed to sense her ploy and pulled her head up by her hair, holding his cock and spraying her face with his urine. “Open wide.” She had no choice, she opened her mouth and he immediately began to piss in it. “Now swallow.”
The first of many tears made its way down Sara’s face, lost in the piss that dripped from her it tracked its way down over the knuckle mark on her cheek as she began to drink the bald mans water, swallowing quickly to avoid having to taste it too much.
As if to egg her on she felt a riding crop land across her arse, one of the others had decided she needed a bit of a beating to warm her up. The pain as it charged along her spine at least took her mind off the taste of piss in her mouth. The bald waiter had now decided that he needed cleaning off after that, so he’d put his cock in Saras mouth for her to suck it clean. She closed her eyes and complied, not only sucking his cock clean, but continuing until she could feel it swell in her mouth. Her body jerked as the person with the crop thrashed her soundly from behind, the tears were flowing freely now, dripping off her jaw as the pain and humiliation did their work. She had gone from feeling beautiful to feeling like a whore in one giant leap. The cock in her mouth continued to swell, its girth beginning to force her jaws apart and she found she was only able to take the very head of it into her mouth, and not all of that. He wasn’t overly long, just about 6 or 7 inches, but the man had the girth of a soda can. It was a few years since she had given birth, but she still recalled the pain of those tiny heads, and she felt sure that she was about to relive it all over again.
What little ability she had left to sense picked up on the other two, one each side of her, stroking their vinyl covered hands over her ribs. The one to the right pinched her nipple viciously and Sara recoiled. Immediately she was punched from behind, the fist slamming into her anus, not entering it, but delivering a solid blow that went all the way through her and pushed her face harder onto the cock in her mouth. Lesson learned, she thought to herself, don’t move, whatever happens, don’t react. She tried to relax, every muscle in her body telling her to fight or flee, every fibre of her mind screaming at her that she had to get away or die, yet she over rode them all, and managed to resume her position on the bench, her tongue flicking over the head of the fat cock in her mouth as her nipple was wrenched again. The tears helped, flooding fourth and taking some of the pain with them. She felt nipple clams going on and didn’t flinch as they tightened, the flesh turning white as the blood was driven from it, and the crop was swapped for a cane that bit into her skin, shocks of pain tearing through her. She began to feel herself slipping away, going into that place in her head where she was no longer one with her body, where she went into a trance so that whatever happened to her did not affect her mind, a state of ecstasy where nothing bad could ever happen.
On either side of her threaded needles tugged at the skin over her ribs, their points biting in on each rib top, nipping a little skin then hopping to the next. A knot at the end of the thread ensured that it did not pull through when her tormenters pulled the threads tight and tied them off at the other end. Another thread, on each side, repeating the pattern, about an inch apart, and another, slowly and carefully smocking her flesh over her ribs. She was getting into a rhythm now, blocking out the intensity, merging in into a fog that she submerged herself in, the faint rainbow lights behind her eyelids summoning her to a land of pleasure. She was almost disappointed when the beating on her arse stopped, but it was soon replaced by something more menacing. The cold tip of a strap on pressed against her lips, forcing its way into her, pushing aside delicate flesh in its insistence to be inside her belly.
The girls stroke was long and slow to begin with, the friction over Saras G spot adding to her haze, bringing her closer to orgasm as she swam through a sea of pain. Needles now began to fill the spaces between the stitches, creating a pretty pattern of needlework down her sides and she continued to work her tongue over the stout cock in her mouth. Her jaw gaped, gasping for air, but it was quickly plugged as the bald waiter pushed further in, his head popping behind her teeth and ramming her tongue and palette. He gave no warning as he came, no swelling, no twitch, no grunt; he just emptied what felt like a pint of spunk into her mouth and ripped away the nipple clams at the same time. Sara swallowed as fast as she could, swallowing her howl as much as his cum, but it just kept coming, oozing out of her mouth, stained pink with the blood from her cheek as it ran down her chin. It took her a moment to realise that he didn’t shrink as he came. Having become engorged this penis had no intention of shrinking back to normal size and she began to suspect that a chemical inducement had been applied to it.
Cold baby oil washed over her anus and cunt lips as the girl continued to stroke, making sure that the lubricant went all the way into Sara, as deep as possible. She even opened her arse up and squirted a jet against the sphincter muscle. As the soda can cock withdrew from her mouth Sara gulped down the last of the cum and panted heavily, her face a mess of piss and cum and tears all smeared over a perfect knuckle print that refused to fade. She rocked back and forth on the bench as the girl moved faster, deeper, harder. Sara couldn’t believe that she had taken all of that strap on, yet she could feel the girls belly slapping against her arse as she was pummelled. The muscles in her cunt began to strain, clenching, spasming as she started to cum. Another cock was at her mouth, this one smaller than the other two in girth, but very long. Straight away he pushed to the back of her throat and slipped down, deep throating before she even had a chance to swallow. Sara gagged twice then settled down as he began to pump into her throat.
This must be the blond boy, she thought as she opened her throat more, finding that she could still breathe round him a little. There was a change behind her and the strap on was pulled out to be replaced with a cock that was even bigger, longer and fatter. Lorenzo was obviously taking his turn. He was a frantic pumper, fast, short pumps into her body, like a rabbit, his hands on her back as he went at her with vigour. Thank God for the baby oil or he’d be tearing her to pieces she thought. Then the grunt came, and so did Lorenzo, depositing his seed deep in her womb. He withdrew quickly and Sara was expecting another cock to replace it, but this felt different, smoother, yet harder in places. She started to panic as she realised that Lorenzo was now sliding his hand into her, his knuckles bouncing off the edge of her pubic bone as he tried to force it in.
“Carlos, she needs to be opened more, come and fuck the bitch.” No doubt Carlos was the soda can, and sure enough Sara felt a much bigger cock against her cunt now. She felt like it was splitting her as it pushed its way in, forced itself through her opening and into her vagina, the head spreading her out the way her babies had. If she hadn’t had a cock in her throat Sara would have screamed in pain, instead it just caused a new fall of tears. The shaft followed the head, and again her cunt stretched taut, Carlos dug his nails into her hips and heaved himself inside of her. Sara felt as though she had been split in two, like an axe through her cunt had exposed her to the world, she had been turned inside out, surely, because no cock could ever spread her this wide, surely? But it had. That soda can cock was deep in her and Carlos was banging away, pounding it in like a hammer on a nail, making sure to get right down to his root, trying to get his balls into her as well. This time she felt him cum, she felt the shaft swell as he spunked into her and she swore she felt her cunt walls tear. “She’s ready now” was all he said as he withdrew. Lorenzo’s fist was back again, this time slipping easily in as the flesh closed over his hand. He sank into her up to his wrist, then tucked his thumb under and made a fist.
Saras tears had dried up. Not because she wasn’t hurting or humiliated, not because she wasn’t praying for this to be over, but simply because she had none left. If she had, they would have poured down her face as Lorenzo began to move his fist in her cunt. Gently at first, up and down, slowly turning inside her, the suction within her making her feel sick as he began to make longer thrusts, deeper thrusts, stronger thrusts. The blond in front of her pulled his cock back and came over her face, yet Sara barely noticed over the feeling building in her guts, the swelling tide of irrepressible orgasm mounting in her. So far it hadn’t happened, her fear had kept it at bay, yet now she couldn’t resist. She felt a tingle against her clit, someone was using the wand, pressing it hard against her urethra as she was fisted, and it toppled her over the edge. She didn’t just cum, she squirted, she lost count of the orgasms that charged through her body, she screamed but didn’t know she’d made a sound, her throat raw as she howled with pleasure and anguish, she squirted again and again and again, ejaculating like she never had before, cum squeezing round Lorenzos forearm and dripping off his elbow as she shook and came again.
David watched his wifes throes eagerly. He’d been planning this for weeks, knowing that she hadn’t had a single penetrative orgasm since the babies had been born and finally deciding that this was either going to produce the goods or she’d never be able to get there again. Her tear stained, cum, blood and piss spattered visage had never seemed so pretty as her mouth distended and she roared with a primordial cry. His own cock hardened in response and he wondered how much longer he would need his four accomplices. He watched as Lorenzo swapped places with Carlos who continued to fist Sara. He was fascinated, the boy had yet to cum, though his balls showed obvious signs of needing release. Lorenzo put his cock in Saras mouth, encouraging her to suck it hard, bite it, chew the end, obviously needing the extra stimulation. Meanwhile the blond boy and the girl were cutting out the sutures and removing the needles, putting it all safely in a sharps box, aware that the game was nearing its end.
Sara sucked for all she was worth, the world was pure white, like being inside a fluorescent tube, it glowed around her and she was lost to sound, sight, smell, pain, everything except the sensation in her cunt, that glorious, wonderful, amazing sensation. She’d never cum like this in her whole life, not once. Her entire being had exploded, from everything being focussed tightly on her abdomen, on that small G spot of skin, it had expanded to fill the universe, she felt that her cells had been scattered and were no longer in contact with each other, just pulsing frantically, each to their own beat.
Lorenzo was getting close, but he still wasn’t satisfied. He knew what he wanted, and now was the time to take it, while she was in such a state of stupor she wouldn’t know what had hit her. He’d made sure the waitress had lubed the womans arse earlier for him, and now was his opportunity. Gently moving Carlos aside he stood behind Sara and spread her cheeks, presenting her pulsing anus with the tip of his massive cock. She was going to be tight this one, he could tell, and he prised her open with his two thumbs, stretching her sphincter out until the muscles took the hint and relaxed themselves, then he put the tip of his cock back against her. The waitress handed him the baby oil and he gave himself a good slathering of it. Then he started to push.
Saras focus came back swiftly, from that white haze to a pin point of pain as her anus stretched out around the tip of Lorenzos cock. To make matters worse someone was under her, applying a dildo to her cunt, making things tighter still, she cried out and her husband leaned forward and slapped her face. Remembering her silence she bit her lip and tried to relax her muscles as the pressure on her arse mounted, the head determinedly forcing its way in. God but the man had a cock of steel, it just didn’t soften a bit, it kept pushing, deeper and deeper.
Suddenly the head made its way past the restriction and her arse closed on Lorenzos shaft, yet there was to be no stopping him, and he continued to squirt baby oil over her arse as he plunged deeper into her, his legs bending as he braced himself behind his cock and pushed. It felt to Sara like his cock and the dildo in her cunt must have met, the wall between the two orifices so thin that it seemed there could be no difference between one hole and the other. Another orgasm built in her, she couldn’t believe it, she was feeling so much pain, yet her body was determined to send her spiralling into oblivion again. Lorenzo’s nine inches was in her now, all of it, completely embedded in that gorgeous arse. He took a moment to enjoy the feel before he started moving, enjoying the extra friction from the dildo in Saras cunt as he started to pump in and out, a little bit at first, then quickly more and more, until his whole length was charging in and out of Saras anus, her body rocking violently on the bench as she was double penetrated. Carlos joined in the fun by filling her mouth as much as he could with that ever stiff fat cock of his, making her air tight as she came, her body bucking against the restraints as her arse was filled with hot spunk, soon followed by another spray down her throat.
She was exhausted. Her ribs hurt, her arse and cunt felt stretched beyond all possible imagining, her throat was sore, her wrists and ankles chafed, and her stomach muscles complained bitterly about the sudden burst of exercise. She hung her head and panted as the foursome gathered their clothes and left her alone with David.
He was gentle as he undid the cuffs, lifting her carefully from the bench and laying her on her side on the chaise that waited, a thin sheet there to pull over her body, and a clean pillow for her head. He stroked her hair and kissed her delicately on her cheek. “Good girl.”
Leaving her lying quietly he went to the bathroom and ran a bath, not too hot, not too cold, a little of her favourite oil to tend to her skin, a little aloe to sooth, a little witch hazel to clean. Then he carried her in and placed her softly in the water.
She could feel his hands on her body, so soft and gentle, like warm feathers washing her skin, soaping and rinsing her hair, removing her make up, and one strong arm always round her, making sure she couldn’t slide under the water. Jug after jug of warm water sluiced through her hair and over her shoulders and back, washing away the stains, warming her soul again, and when she was clean and fresh he scooped her into his arms, swathing her in soft towels and patting her skin dry. He laid her in the King size bed, on crisp cotton sheets that felt so wonderful to her skin, and sat behind her, squeezing the water from her hair.
When she began to stir he left her briefly, returning with a glass of iced water to moisten her parched lips, he had read her mind. He held her up as she sipped from the glass, the strength still not in her hands to hold it for herself. “Are you hungry?” he asked, and she nodded as she realised that she was. He picked up the telephone next to the bed and rang room service. He was still drying her hair when the knock came at the door. David answered it and brought back a plate of scrambled eggs and one of chicken salad, with a jug of iced water and a bottle of white wine all set on a tray.
He placed the tray on the bed and fed her, one mouthful at a time, sip by sip, until she’d had enough, then he laid the tray aside. He settled her down into the bed, carefully avoiding the bruises that showed already on her skin, before going to shower himself, and by the time he returned she was already asleep. He stroked her hair and climbed in next to her, his body curling up against hers in perfect harmony, knowing that tomorrow was going to be the start of something very special.
* * * * *
In the morning she woke to an empty bed, David having already left for work at stupid-o-clock without disturbing her. She couldn’t believe she had slept until 10.30 and immediately felt guilty. Then she looked at the bedside table, where there was an envelope waiting for her. Her body ached as she reached for it, tearing open the seal and removing the card. It had only three words on it.
“Hire a nanny.”
Jay Smith wrote
Mummmm