At 30, the peak of my female hormones screaming at me to do something with them other than finger my softest parts, I found myself still alone. I was afraid I wasn’t beautiful enough, yet every time I looked in the mirror (other than on fat days) I thought I looked pretty good. Sexy, even. Long dark hair, pretty eyes, and a nice (though not perfect) line of curves that complimented the mild tan of my skin.
Sexuality for me was always my most profound expression, though more often than not it was my mind that “went the farthest”. My boyfriends had ranged from the timid to the adventurous, but I think I may have scared some of them a little with my own wild side.
But what happened to me was something I could never have expected, even if I did fantasize about certain aspects of it now and again.
Her name was Jennifer, and at 19, she was the youngest in the Abnormal Psych class I was taking just for fun at the Junior College. She was infectiously funny, and she was also drop-dead stunning in an innocent way that made me both envious, and in that tiny fantasy part of me, a little excited. She had shoulder blade length supra-soft looking brunette hair, much lighter than mine, but not blonde. A smallish face that was very bright when she smiled (which was often), a petite body that was very well toned but still curvy. Honestly, she had the body and face most women would die to have, and in a different way, so would virtually every man.
We became great friends, having lunch just about every day, and going to movies and to clubs on weekends. Without noticing it at first, I found myself answering probing questions from her whose depth into my psyche increased each time we went out together. After six months of this, I did start to wonder.
Then at last I came to understand what was happening when one night at my home, after we had been drinking wine, I insisted she stay over instead of driving home.
Sitting on the couch, she had gotten ready for bed by stripping down to her panties and a white satin camisole, and she sat with a half-empty glass of wine in her hand.
“Why do you always ask me those questions?” I said out of the blue. “Am I going to be your term paper?”
She giggled, her bright smile infecting me so that I smiled too. “No. But I have been making sure you were the right one to ask!”
“What else do you have left to ask? You know just about everything!”
Stretching languidly, she set down her wine glass and swayed gently across the room, glancing back at me over her shoulder as she walked toward the kitchen. I did try not to watch her body, but the skin of the small of her back was exposed right down to the start of the cleft in her bottom. I swallowed.
What she did wouldn’t even enter my brain’s processing area. It was like seeing something totally surreal, and your mind just won’t comprehend it.
Jennifer was standing next to my pantry, and she took the extra dog collar I had there off the ring, and she placed it around her neck, looping it through, then locking it into place. It didn’t have studs or anything, but the effect was immediate. This 19 year old girl had just put a black dog collar on her own neck in my house, and now she was walking back toward me, her eyes now smoky and bedroomy, and she was definitely swaying her hips.
My mouth was wide open, and dry as a desert rock bed. Nothing was coming to my mind. It had been emptied. I could only gape as she came toward me, then knelt onto the carpet at my feet, her hair spilling out over her back, the black of the collar stark against the lightness of her skin.
And she was still smiling.
“I have one more thing to ask,” she said breathily.
I could only croak out a noise in response.
“I watched you for awhile, and I asked you all those questions because I had to be sure it was you,” she said, “and it is. I want you to take me…if you accept, I want you to have total control over me in every way. Every word of yours a command to me. Anything you want at all.”
Though this was more than any part of me could handle, I still managed to stammer, “But I’m not gay…”
She smiled brighter, shaking her head so that her hair shimmered. “I said in every way. If you only want me to be your maid, that’s fine. Whatever you want. If you say yes, I don’t make the rules, you do.”
“Why…?” I asked, still stunned, still looking into those innocent, smoky green eyes.
Shrugging, she said, “When they’re young, some people want to backpack around Europe…explore the world. This is what I want to explore. Will you take me?”
“I…,” I stuttered again, breathing really hard as I looked at her, kneeling, her bare feet pouting out from under her bottom, her knees parted, her camisole open enough that I could see down to the swell of her breasts. I was really starting to breathe too fast. “I…I mean how long? A day, A week…”
“No,” she said. “Until you want to release me. It’s up to you.”
I swallowed air deeply, closing my eyes, and as I exhaled, strange words came from my mouth. “What if I didn’t release you?”
There was no pause. She said quietly, “Then I guess we’d live happily ever after.”
I don’t know what made me say it, but I can still hear it echoing in my mind as I whispered, “Yes. Yes, I’ll take you.”
* * *
So there it was. I had my own 19 year old sumptuous brunette slave, to do with as I pleased. It was incomprehensible, really. That night, moments afterward, she was still looking up at me, her collar on tight, her eyes smoky and green and hungry for something that I didn’t know how to give her then. But she was mine, not the reverse. So I told her just to sit there, exactly as she was, while I figured out what I wanted to do.
I paced. I cooked myself some food, which I couldn’t eat. I put on three different CD’s, but none were right. All the while I watched her, just sitting there, bare feet under her satin panties, back slightly arched, looking up at the place where I had been on the couch. She hadn’t moved at all.
I stood behind her, looking down her back. The cleft of her cheeks was even more visible from my vantage point, and those pouty little toes. She still didn’t move. reached out and touched her hair, just to see if I could. It was soft, blown-dry but well conditioned so it was full of body. At that point she did move slightly, tilting her head back to give me more access to her hair. Her reaction startled me, and I pulled away, going back into the kitchen to get another glass of wine.
I sat at my kitchen table then, just watching her not move at all. Her hands were on her slightly parted thighs, and I could see the pink of her feet beginning to turn a little bluish from the constant pressure, but still I just watched. For over an hour. My mind racing.
What had I done? What would I do? I could ‘release’ her right now, and be done with it…but then again, I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I had no idea what I wanted to do with her, or have her do to/for me, but to have my own voluntary slave is a thing that literally never happens, and yet here it was. She was mine. All mine.
I went to her then, knelt behind her, much like she was doing, and I reached both hands out for her hair. Again, she tilted her head back, this time much farther, so I could look down the bridge of her nose to her parted lips, and I just sat there, playing with her hair. I stroked it, I smelled it, I braided it and unbraided it. I got up, so eager with excitement that I felt like I was five and it was Christmas morning, and I brought back my brush. I brushed her hair over and over, her head tilting this way and that while my fingers ran through her brunette mane. The tiny moans she gave when my fingers would brush her neck or ear, even these didn’t bother me. This was mine. I could play with her hair if I wanted, for as long as I wanted. She would never complain, and no one could stop me.
I have never had so much fun with hair.
It took an hour or so, and at last it was getting very late, and I was tired, though I still sort of wanted to play with her hair. Instead I got up, got pillows and blankets out, while she waited, not moving, and then I asked her to stand up out of the way, and stretch her legs while I made up the sofa bed. I knew I could have had her do it, but my toy was still new, and I wanted to show her I appreciated her. When I was done, I told her to go to bed, and dream sweet dreams.
It was another two hours before I could get to sleep, lying there as I was in my room, knowing that my very own girl was out there sleeping.
* * *
In the morning, though both of us had slept only a little, a told her to go to work as she normally would, but to make certain that from now on she always wear silk or satin panties and camisoles under her clothes. When she came home from work…my home, not hers…she would strip to her underwear, and place the collar around her neck. That was to be her attire always in my home.
She nodded, smiling…almost beaming with joy, and she went off to work, while I sat there, still stunned, but it had begun to sink in. I had given her my first order, and she had nodded her compliance with actual eagerness! I called in sick to my job that day, while I began to plan what I would do with my own little girl.
The first days and nights were pretty routine, as I taught her what I wanted for dinner, etc…however, I loved cooking, and sharing in general, so we would both be in the kitchen, giggling and cooking. Of course, sometimes I would begin to get seriously wet when I would suddenly realize that I was wearing clothes, and Jennifer was wearing only silk underwear. Sometimes…like that first night…it was even really skimpy, exposing her tummy and her navel, with very high-riding french cut panties that came way up on her hip, and not-quite-thong backsides.
Also, she was wearing a collar.
After two days, I sought out one of those adult stores, and I bought her a studded leather black collar, which she put on with enormous pride. While I was in that store, though, I noticed a lot of other things for slaves, things I’d only fantasized about. I couldn’t bring myself to get any at first, but the thoughts kept nagging at me. By that first weekend, when she was giving me regular back and foot massages, and cooking with me, and doing laundry and dishes with me, and always wearing her collar and her lingerie, I got up the nerve to go back to that adult shop.
I was truly like a kid in a candy store. It took me only moments to get over my embarrassment and fear of the men in there who were trying desperately not to stare at me. I stood there in the “B&D/S&M” section for thirty minutes trying to decide what to get, and in the end I just took out my plastic and got one of literally everything they had, and two of a lot of things. I got masks, and harnesses, and whips and two each of four different kinds of nipple clamps, and a riding crop, and a chastity belt, and every kind of leather attire they had (some for me, if I wanted, and some for her). It was when I was picking up the leather-thong butt-strap with the pink-colored plug in it that something started fighting me, between my brain and my sex.
There was this butt plug, staring up at me from it’s sealed plastic, a broad belt and a thick leather buckled star on it…and it wasn’t a huge plug, but it was pretty thick. My first thought was, ‘oh, I’ll have to buy another one, a smaller one to start her off’, and then I realized what I was doing. Up until now, it had all been dishes, cooking and massages. Did I really intend to make this into more than that? But then I looked at the other items, the nipple clamps, the harnesses, the ball gags, and I new that I did want something more. Maybe not to do whatever it was that it would mean to be ‘gay’ with her, but she was my own. I could make her do anything I wanted. I didn’t have to touch her if I didn’t want to, but I could do all of this stuff and it would be fine.
I did get another plug (four actually, ranging from small to two and a half inches thick…I didn’t know if that would ever fit, but she was mine and I could try it if I wanted), and a bunch of vibrators and dildoes too. Even one two headed one, repeating to myself that that would be for both her holes. I bought several dildo harnesses as well, just throwing them in, hiding them from myself, as it were.
With over one thousand dollars of items and a very astounded and elated cashier behind me (as well as a group of now unabashedly gawking men) I headed home with my treasure trove.
It was the weekend, so it was hard to find a carpenter, but I did. When he got there, and I told him where I wanted the very thick “eye”-bolts placed in my ceiling, my walls and my floor (all in my bedroom), he did look at me very oddly, but I just smiled and said I also tip very well.
Jennifer came home while he was still there, and I caught her at the door, telling her to go out again for another three hours. Without questioning me, she simply turned around and left.
When she did come back, the carpenter was gone, and she went through her normal routine, stripping her clothes off to her underwear, hanging them in the closet and placing her collar on. She must have noticed the large eye-bolts sticking out of the ceiling and floor and wall, but she said nothing, going to the couch where she would normally give me my after-work back rub and foot massage, and waiting patiently at the base of the couch.
I came out, wearing the bathrobe that I often do when she gives me my massage, but this time I didn’t lie down on the couch for her to straddle me. I slipped my bathrobe off, and watched her own jaw open wide as she looked at me. I had leather panties on, studded just along the seams, and a black leather push-up bra that left my nipples exposed. I had never shown her any part of my body before, except my bare back and legs, and here my nipples were, large, erect and pink, pouting out above the rim of the open black leather.
“I have some things I need for you to do,” I whispered huskily.
She just sat there, gaping at me, but she nodded, her soft hair falling around her shoulders, her nipples hardening so quickly against the satin of her camisole that I was almost surprised, watching them.
I took her hand and led her into the bathroom, placing her in the tub, standing up. I initially intended to her have take her own lingerie off, but I found myself reaching up to her shoulder straps and pulling her camisole up over her head. There, for the first time, I saw her breasts. They were nearly the most beautiful and most perfect creations I had ever seen. They were not overlarge, but very full and rounded, with small, dark-pink nipples that were not quite brown, but not so pink as my own, and they were very hard, her aureole’s all pointed with the goose-bumps of excitement. I swallowed hard, trying to be clinical about what I was doing, as my fingers slipped underneath the band of her panties, my fingers touching the soft skin of her hips and thighs as I pushed down her panties to her ankles, looking at the delicate young feet as they lifted up out of the clothing. I had tried to avert my eyes from her sex parts, but I knew that only a foot above my head level, her sex must be there, and despite what I would have thought, I could smell her excitement. It was a rich, musky smell, hungry, like smoky heather in an open field.
Again, I swallowed very hard, bringing myself over to the counter, then I handed her the razor, the shaving cream and the bath oil. Still, without looking, I pointed to the area between her legs, and I said “Shave. Everything, on both sides.”
Her eyes were wide open, like an astounded rabbit caught in headlights, but she lay straight down, spreading her legs, and then I couldn’t help myself as I watched her apply the shaving cream to her light-brown hair, covering her pelvic area and between her buttocks. Each stroke left another region bare, and I did have to turn my eyes away because I was beginning to breath very hard, my own pussy becoming wet.
At last, she said she was done, and she had applied the oil. Eyes, still focused only on her face, I led her to the bedroom wall. I got many of my items out, and I laid them on the bed one by one. First, I placed the ball gag in her mouth, my eyes watching so deeply into hers as she accepted it willingly, light water beginning to fill up in the base of her eyelids. As I put the blindfold on, I saw a little tear of joy slip out from underneath it and ride down her right cheek.
I placed the fur-lined steel cuffs on her wrists, locked them into place, then got a chair out to hook the chain to the ceiling post so that her feet barley touched the floor, her toe-tops just brushing the carpet. Then I selected two sets of nipple clamps, and for the first time, I touched her breasts. Her nipples were so hard and pouty that I really didn’t have to, but I cupped her left breast in my hand as I tightened the clamp to the nipple until I felt her wince from the pain, then I tightened it a little farther. I did the same for her other breast. Then I placed the second set of clamps above the first, so that she squirmed despite her restraint. I pinched her nipples between my forefinger and thumb, watching them whiten from the pressure of the clamps. I wondered what that felt like, and how much it ached. I stood back a few moments, watching her accelerated breathing, watching her breasts rise and fall tightly, her back arched against the pain/pleasure.
Then, knowing she was blindfolded, I hazarded a look. Her legs were slightly spread, and there was her beautiful center spot…her mons pouting out from between her legs, swollen now with the blood of her excitement, her gentle little lips peeking out from the full folds of her skin, and I saw the tiniest peak of her clitoris glistening from underneath its little hood.
My own pussy was now soaking wet against the leather, my breathing fast and furious as I turned her around to face the wall and picked up the cat-o-nine-tails. And then I just started whipping her.
I was sort of hesitant at first, watching the ripple of her shock as each light blow landed on her bottom and back, but I was getting so hot, so amazingly hot that each time my whip came down it was harder, until at last I started seeing the red tracks it was leaving each time it make a loud “smack” against her soft flesh. She writhed, her muscles bunching underneath my strokes, but I didn’t want to stop. I kept on, doing it harder and harder, her gentle cheeks now striped with little red welts rising against the sweet tan of her skin, sweat beginning to pour down her back and trail into the crack of her buttocks. I couldn’t stop, my own left hand sinking down past my leather panties into my crotch, my fingers finding my own clit right away, and I kept whipping her for all I was worth, hearing her muffled cries from under the gag, seeing the tears stream out from the edges of the salt-water soaked blindfold.
I stopped, panting, very near orgasm, and I looked at what was all mine. Her back and butt and legs were criss-crossed with a latticework of welts from my whip, her thighs soaking wet from the stream of sex fluids pouring from her pussy, her body writhing against the chains that held her. When she sensed that my whipping had stopped for a moment, I saw her try to relax, but the pain from the nipple clamps and the stinging of her welts kept her writhing, her body still reveling in the echoes of what I’d just given her.
Hungrily I turned her around, intent on doing her front side as well, but as I turned her around, my mouth brushed her hair, then without thinking I found my lips on her throat. Her neck arched immediately, her muffled cry turning instantly to a moan as she leaned her head back for me to have all her throat to savor. I did, still not thinking, take my hand out of my own pussy and bring it up to her breasts, pulling hard at the clamps, then massaging her nipples roughly. My mouth found her right nipple hungrily, as a starving baby must feel, and I sucked on it deeply, the taste of the steel clamps and her hardened satin nub causing the burning to grow so hot in my crotch that I literally fell at her feet, kneeling before this creature that was mine. I lifted up one foot, and ravenously placed the toes in my mouth, pulling them out, then licking all around the soft pads of her feet, her instep, then continuing rapidly up her calf to her inner thigh, biting her so hard I left marks. I wanted to eat her whole.
Then I was there. From fully beneath her, I looked up at her slick, soaking wet bare pussy lips, her clit now a red-wet button at the top of her perfect full flower-petal lips, and without restraint I brought my mouth to those lips with a hunger I have never known. I thrust my tongue in and out of her cunt so hard I thought it would come out of my mouth. Her juices ran onto my tongue and into my throat so fast I thought she was peeing, but I didn’t even care if she was…the flavor of it had sunk deep into my soul and deep into my sex and I knew it was the taste of my own private Jennifer, that she was no one else’s and she was all mine to do with whatever I wanted and I needed everything from her, every fluid, every sound, every taste, every touch.
When my tongue found her hard pink clitoris, and I sucked it greedily into my mouth, her thighs closed on my face, her legs wrapped around my neck with her ankles in a cross lock and she began bucking like a wild horse. I held onto her buttocks for dear life as I sucked and teased, and licked and stroked her until I felt a volcano in her erupt…and then she did cum. I’d ejaculated once, when a boyfriend had done a special job on me, but I thought I’d imagined it…yet she did it to me. She erupted all over my chin, my chest, my tongue, juice squirting out of her everywhere, flavor like rich heaven splashing on my tongue and into my throat, her body jerking and convulsing, her legs wrapped fully around my head, not letting it go as I literally drank her up, soaking my face completely, drenching my hair, but I wanted it all. I pressed her buttocks as hard against my face as her own feet and calves were pushing my face into her crotch. She just kept cumming. It was either the longest orgasm I’d ever seen, or it was dozens in a row, until at last she subsided, me gently lapping at the sopping wet pussy lips like the thirstiest cat in the world at last finding a bowl of with milk.
Then I stood up, my legs so shaky I thought I might fall down, and I untied her, and let her out of her gag and blindfold. Her lips were on mine in an instant, her tongue cleaning the inside of my mouth of all her flavors, mixing them with the taste of her mouth then she let them all gently slide back in, not swallowing, letting our saliva build up until it was a communion of her sexuality, her mouth and my mouth, intermixing between each other. It was the most perfect flavor I had ever tasted. I could have let her tongue stay on mine, and that flavor fill our mouths forever.
Instead, she, my little slave, nipple clamps still on, backside obviously burning with pain, she pressed me as hungrily back onto the bed as I had done to her, but maybe even more so. She nearly tore off my leather brassiere, but the straps were too strong, so she figured them out and pulled it off. Her tongue and mouth were all over my breasts, my nipples, my neck, my underarms. Yes, she sat there, lapping at my underarms, reveling in my scent. Then she kept going, her tongue in my navel, along the top of my panties which she quickly removed. She passed up my pussy with only a couple of hungry nibble and kisses, going down my leg to my own feet, which she placed into her mouth as if they were the last meal in the world. Her tongue roved between my toes, along my heel and ankle, back up to the softness of my instep (which made me squirm), and again to the valleys and ridges in and around the toes, taking each one in and sucking it like a little cock. Then she reached under me and flipped me over.
Her bites and tongue trails led up the backs of my thighs to the crack of my buttocks, where she ran her tongue up and down gently, just touching the outside, making me moan gutturally, then I felt her hands part my cheeks and her tongue settled into my ass.
I literally screamed, this young 19 year old nipple-clamped, collared slave-girl of mine was now gently inserting her tongue into my anus, widening it with round circular motions, then thrusting deep inside, her chin and nose pressed hard against me. She began to move her face up and down, her tongue pointing out hard, meeting no resistance as my anus opened up for her, and I continued screaming, moving my buttocks up to meet each thrust of her tongue, a wave building up in me like I had never experienced as her hands pressed up hard on the front of my pelvis, driving my asshole deeper into each exploratory thrust of her tongue. Then, clenching my thighs against each other so hard I thought I’d break them, I came in a shockwave that started in my ass and went deep into my vagina, way up near my cervix, shuddering through my vaginal walls, cresting at my clitoris which then exploded as well, my nerves expanding in a shower of pleasure centered on that sweet tongue in my ass and radiating outward until it eclipsed my whole body, until there was nothing but my gentle, open ass pressed hard against my sweet Jennifer’s tongue buried deep inside my bottom, and this orgasm of energy that wiped out my vision and all my other senses, until I collapsed with no more strength left.
My tongue lolled out of my mouth, my breath coming in wheezes so fast I couldn’t count them. My eyes were totally unfocused as she slid her soft skin up mine, tilted my head up to her with her hands, and she shared the sweet taste of my ass and her tongue with me, swirling it around my passive mouth, my eyes closed, the taste intoxicating.
I had never once had an orgasm without some clitoral contact. And that orgasm she’d just given me was hands-down the strongest, and most potent I had ever had. It was her that pressed me up into the bed, slid me under the sheets, all the while keeping her mouth as much in contact with mine as possible, then covered us both together, nestling her body up against mine, one leg stretched out over my belly, the soft sole of her foot stroking back and forth along my thigh. She was still kissing me. I really didn’t want her to stop. Her mouth was full of the perfect synthesis of our sex…her own pussy, my ass, her mouth and mine, all together in one magnificent flavor that could not be duplicated except in this same way. Knowing that, I wanted it this same way every night. I was thinking, as her tongue gently swirled along mine, lapping up against my gums and then straining lightly into my throat before retreating…every night, from now on, we can do this exact same thing. Every night forever. And then everything I’d ever wanted in life will be fulfilled by these perfect pleasures.
After a few hours, our lips now still touching, and our tongues occasionally sliding softly forth to breach the other’s lips, we fell asleep. But as I did so, I was thanking God, or Life , or Nature, or whatever, for this incredible gift. She was all mine. And tomorrow was another day…
* * *
The next morning, as I sat there, Jennifer lying naked below me, face down on the carpet, her legs spread while I straddled her left thigh, rubbing my pussy gently and slowly against the oily soft lotion on her skin, I wondered at what I had done. I was rubbing gobs and gobs of soothing moisturizer into the angry red welts that were all over her back, buttocks and upper thighs, and yet my own pussy was still hot as I slid it slowly back and forth along the back of her thigh. I had rubbed off on many things in my time, but nothing so soft and sensual as Jennifer’s thigh. I could feel the very gradual building to an orgasm, but I was still grounded on earth when I asked her (my eyes closed, focused only on the feel of my clit and wet lips slipping smoothly along the sweet satin of her skin), “I hit you too hard last night, didn’t I?”
Her voice was a gentle whisper, as if she also was focused only on that part of her thigh that was in contact with my own sweetness. “You don’t understand, Mistress. I want you to hit me as hard as you want to. I think that’s what you did, so you made me very happy.”
Rubbing a little faster, I breathed, “Yes, but I think I wanted even more. To hit you harder. I mean, I almost made you bleed.”
She raised her thigh a little to angle it better against my clitoris while my hands still rubbed the lotion into her lower back. “Then you should have made me bleed,” was all she said.
I stopped against her thigh, looking down at her. Her back glistened from the lotion, and the red welts had now subsided to pinkish-red striped across her skin, and her face, turned sideways, her hair spilling out over the carpet, was angelic. She was smiling, happy, her eyes closed, her hips beginning to flex so that she could make her thigh continue in my rhythm.
I choked out, “You’d let me make you bleed?”
Her smile was beatific as she said, “You need to understand, Mistress, my happiness comes from yours. You need to do to me whatever you want to do, without thinking about me. Every time you make yourself happy using me, you make me happy.”
I rubbed a long, deep stroke against her thigh, sliding my slick lips down to the backside of her knee, then drawing myself slowly up along her thigh until my back arched to push my pussy against her buttocks, gasping sharply out loud from its effect on me. I really did own her. In every way. “Then I will do that,” I said to her. “But,” I continued, “I may ask you what you feel sometimes, and you must tell me the truth. Like now. Will you do that?”
She nodded against the carpet, twisting her thigh against my pussy for effect. “I will.”
“Then tell me,” I asked softly, bending down to her ear, my tongue just making the slightest entrance to its insides, and I whispered, “did I hit you too hard last night? For you to enjoy it?”
Glowing, nuzzling her ear up against my tongue so that I could put it in deeper, she sighed, “No. When you hit me so hard that it makes you hotter than you’ve ever been, then I want you to keep hitting me that hard. If it means that later, it will take you hitting me so hard that I bleed to make you as hot as you were last night, then please, make me bleed.”
Her ear tasted so good. So soft, the tang of her wax so sweet. “I may hit you harder,” I said gently into her ear, “but I don’t want to permanently hurt you. don’t ever want to make you bleed. You are my treasure and I wouldn’t want to ruin your sweet skin.”
Sighing again with my tongue in her ear, she said, “Whatever you say, Mistress.”
I bit her earlobe then, very hard, but not nearly enough to make her bleed. She yelped in surprise, but her expression turned right from pain to pleasure.
“But,” I said, “Just to keep you on your toes,” and I bit her even harder, watching her eyes squint from the pain, “I may hit you that hard once or twice.”
“Good,” she said, squirming beneath me.
* * *
Yet this was another day. I’d coated her in lotion, but it was the weekend, so she didn’t have to work, nor did I. That day, I spent mostly enjoying her. Although I had discovered the miracle of her sexuality (and my own), her very self was really as great a pleasure. She still smiled brightly when we talked, she laughed and made me laugh (sometimes so much my stomach hurt), joking with me and poking fun at the things and people and places we both knew. She did this, though all the while she was in her camisole and panties, and yet I was dressed comfortably in sweats and a long T-shirt. As the day wore on, and I kept noticing the slope of her thigh curving into her buttocks, the swell of her breasts beneath the silk that covered them, I suddenly stopped her and demanded she dress in “outside clothes”, though she was to leave off all her underwear.
Of course, she rapidly obeyed, and then I took her out shopping…at my local Victoria’s Secret. It was unbearable almost, picking things out for her…and we totally ignored any strange looks we got from clientele or personnel as we laughed and held the items up against each other. In the end, I bought her another thousand dollars worth of lingerie, maxing out my credit card. I didn’t care. To me, that was the best money I had ever spent.
So I brought her home, and she began to model it for me.
Remember, this was a 19 year old former cheerleader, whose body was as perfect as they came, and whose face would have melted anyone who could see the inherent beauty in all that which was female. Her soft green eyes and long, light-brown hair flashed around me as she placed on high-hip-huggers, her deep belly button making me hunger to slide my tongue in it, then she would spin around and show off the meeting of her buttocks and the cream-colored skin of the sides of her cheeks and thighs. Her breasts would almost gleam from underneath the black, green and white satin and silk bras she wore, all of them displaying her hardened nipples and darkened aureole’s through the misty fog of the lace.
My mouth was watering, when I stood up and put on the music, turned around to her and told her to dance.
Her response was instant, her eyes closing, her hips swaying to the beat of the sensual rock music I’d put on, her hands leading a trail up each other above her head. She danced towards me, changing her view from side to side, sidling one hip at me, then alternating it to the other, until she was right in front of me, her stomach undulating, that deep navel a succulent target amid the tight skin of her stomach. She waved it in front of me, actually pouting out her tummy so that her belly button was right in front of my tongue, then pulling it back as my lips tried to taste her.
She then spun around, showing me her voluptuous bottom, her fingers pulling up the bands of her panties so that they rode way up her hips and stomach, and the small back-part pulled all the way into the crevice of her sensuous cheeks. I could see both of her buttocks now, perfect, unadorned save for the black lace strap that separated them and the haunting image of the little dark rosebud that was centered in between, and the unbelievably sweet lips that pushed against the tightness of the silk between her legs. I think I moaned then, my hand reaching out.
She pulled away, turning her head over her shoulder, smiling at me so sexily I thought I’d stop breathing, and she began to sway her hips to the music much more strongly, falling to the floor, crawling away from me like a cat on the prowl, bringing one knee way up toward her shoulder before planting it, allowing me to see the slight brown skin around her anus and the edges of her pussy straining against the silk, then pulling her other leg up along the same way. She planted both knees next to each other, then tucked her head under her legs so that she was looking at me upside down straight in the eyes while I hungered for her pussy, her ass, her breasts, her mouth. My hand was in my own crotch, stroking wildly now, as she turned around, catlike, and crawled back toward me, her eyes never missing mine. When she got to me, her mouth on a level with my pelvis, she pulled my hand out from my panties and she sucked my fingers one by one, all the way to the base.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted to suck every part of her, have her suck every part of me, I wanted…everything. But I was her Mistress, and she my Slave, and I wanted now to feel that glory over her, feel her as all my own.
I grabbed her hair, and literally dragged her into the bedroom, though she kept up a pace on her hands and knees. I picked her up, feeling stronger than I ever had, and I tossed her onto the bed, locking her feet tight into the straps I had with her legs spread wide, then locking her hands tight. I ripped her brand new lingerie of her, biting the elastic until it broke, leaving bright red marks where the fabric tore at her as it came off. I didn’t care that it was expensive. She was there, spread eagle and tied up, totally vulnerable, in front of me. I looked at her, drinking in her sweet shaved bare pussy lips that looked so young and soft, her breasts, nipples engorged with blood and stiff, her stomach tight, her yes a mask of lust and hunger for any diversion I wanted.
I just stood there, enjoying her, looking at that beauty, that hair spilled out over the pillowcase, her wrists straining against the straps, her legs spread so wide against the bed post, her pussy so open and bare. Then I walked over to my toy box, always keeping my eye on her.
I seized my riding crop, and I stood before her with it, letting her look into my eyes. Then I brought it down very hard on her right nipple, staring intently into her eyes as they closed for a moment from the shock of the pain, but then opened again immediately to drink in my gaze with an even deeper hunger.
“Say it,” I whispered.
“More,” she groaned.
“Beg me,” I said, and I struck her nipple again, making it at once white, then bright red, her body writhing against her straps, her eyes closing and opening to focus again on mine.
“Please, Mistress”, she begged, her voice earnest and full of hunger, “Please…harder. Please.”
The crop came down on her other nipple, stinging it, and she screamed from the pain and shock of it, her buttocks rising off the bed, her hips twisting, her cry almost instantly becoming a moan.
Her eyes focused on me again, very tightly…very, very hungry.
“Please, Mistress,” she begged, “Harder.”
My pussy began to soak my panties as I brought the crop down on her stomach, right across that precious navel I so much wanted to put my tongue into. Her back arched up like a wave, her pelvis coming to a peak, a scream pulling from her lips…and I didn’t stop.
I then brought it against her left breast, and before she could writhe out of the way, against her right. She screamed and writhed and flexed, her heels turning white as she lunged up into and away from the crashing, smacking sound of the crop coming down so hard on her nipples, her stomach, her thighs.
Then I couldn’t resist. I aligned myself to see her sex, and I smacked her…not as hard, but very firmly…across her clit.
She screamed, bucking against the bed so hard I was sure she’d break her bonds, so I had to try it again, still firm but not brutal. Then once again I struck her sweet little nub, reddening it slightly, my Jennifer now fully crying, her tears pouring down her face in contrast to the arching of her hips to greet my own hard smacks against her mons and lips and clit. Jennifer’s mouth was open so wide, her screams so loud, but her pussy was absolutely dripping, soaking the top of the blankets as I kept on hitting her.
One more hard smack to her sweet little lips and she screamed and didn’t stop for awhile, her hips jutting forward, her butt off the bed, her body convulsing and straining, her voice echoing the same cry again and again, “Yes, Mistress! Yes, Mistress!”
She’d cum from me…just knowing it was me.
When she was done shuddering, I untied her, my breathing as fast as I’d ever known it, but I calmly pushed her away when she tried to press her mouth up to mine, enjoying her hurt, pouty little face. Its not that I didn’t want it. But I wanted something else more.
“No,” I said quietly, “you can’t have my mouth yet.” I pressed her head down toward my own soft spot, and said, “I want you to eat me until I tell you to stop”
And Heaven followed that statement.
I almost can’t describe what it is like, to have told someone (in this case, the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen) that they were to eat you until you said “stop”, and to have it happen.
She just kept going.
Her tongue roved inside my inner lips, pressing against my urethra, into my vagina, licking steadily at my gushing walls, sucking in my flavor, then pulling out to slide into the creases between my little lips and my mons. And of course, she would often, very hungrily, find my hard rosebud. She would suckle it at first, then begin to alternate the pressure on it, fluttering her tongue against it like a butterfly’s wings, then stroking it circularly like my fingers would do when I masturbated (only her tongue was so much softer).
I screamed (a lot like she did), and I came. Then she’d back off for a little while, the soft expanse of her tongue stroking my inner thighs, then she’d slowly zero in on me again. And I’d cum. She’d build me up, then pull her tongue off my clit and trace my lips like they were flower petals, then tease my opening, then stuff her tongue as deeply inside my pussy as she could…repeatedly, until at last, she’d lap all the way up my mons like a hound and find my clit. And I’d explode again.
For an hour…or two…or more (I really don’t know), I just kept waxing and waning, like the tide…I would swell and moan and sigh, then I would crest like a wave and scream my head off and come, her tongue sucking and pulling and licking at my clitoris and that was all I knew…just her gentle face on my pussy, my Jennifer…my love.
After hours of her face in my softest of parts, after more orgasms than I think I may have ever had in all of the other sex acts combined in my life, I began to see only her face there. I was seeing her green eyes above the perch of my short-cropped bush, seeing her full mouth opened to take my own sensual lady-lips into her, her priceless, hungry tongue lapping between my spread thighs not because of the “sex” of what was there, but because it was mine, and it was now hers to have. Though she was mine in every way, she knew now that I was also, in many ways, hers.
I loved her.
As I crested the wave of another orgasm, her tongue seemingly tireless against my hard, insatiable sex-center (though I knew her jaw must be aching terribly), I knew fully that it was HER tongue I wanted, Her mouth, HER sex…my Jennifer.
* * *
We slept that night, me spooned against her, feeling her sensual satin-soft skin all along the front of mine, hearing her breathing, smelling the heather-scent of her hair, my lips uncontrollably finding the skin of her neck and shoulders to gently kiss.
It was a beautifully relaxed night, a beautiful sleep, and a spectacular prelude to a perfect Sunday morning.
With the dawn’s light I awoke to find her staring at me while I slept. We got up together, me taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom, where I turned the shower on hot for us. While I waited for it to begin gently steaming, I took her collar off and set it on the sink, kissing the spot in the hollow of her throat where it had covered. Then when the water was deliciously hot, I took her hand again, and the two of us entered the shower.
I looked at her, drank her in as the water cascaded off her back, sheeting down her sexy body like a waterfall. My hands found her breasts, massaging them in the rain of steamy water, listening to her moan against the droning sound of the shower splashing against us. She reached out behind me, pulling me to her, the two of us sliding ourselves against each other as we passionately kissed, her hands running up and down my back and buttocks while my own stayed playing with her breasts.
We had so much fun together, splashing, shampooing each other, soaping each other’s body (paying extra special attention to the softer body parts), stroking and sliding along the open expanse of our silky-wet skin.
When we got out, we toweled each other, then began the long process of blow-drying, teeth-brushing and light make-up. At last we were done, and the final touch was for me to place her collar around her neck again.
While she cooked me a sumptuous breakfast (though she was not experienced, she was a natural), we talked. I sat at the kitchen table across from her, watching her movements underneath her satin underwear, and we discovered each other’s lives.
“So this was something you’d always wanted?” I asked her after awhile.
She smiled sideways at me from beneath her freshly-washed hair. “Not always. Maybe from when I was sixteen or so.”
“I’ll bet you had some shocked boyfriends!” I laughed.
“Uh-uh,” she said, her head shaking as she mixed the cream sauce together with the steamed vegetables. “I never told any of them. We made love, but…”, and then when she gave me her full attention for a second, her eyes so green and focused on my own, I kind-of gasped, “never like this,” she went on, “nothing at all. Missionary position. A…uhm…you know, a BJ or two.”
I really started laughing when I saw her embarrassment at saying “BJ”. After what we’d been through! She turned even redder when I laughed, and I suddenly felt sorry I’d done it so loud.
“Hey, you know, you can say anything to me,” I said. “Your mine. All of you. You said so. That means everything…your thoughts, your past, your feelings, your dreams. I get them all,” and then when she looked up at me again, her eyes slightly frightened at the thought, I said “but I would never abuse that. Never. I need you to believe that.”
“I do,” she whispered, but I wasn’t so certain.
We ate the delicate vegetable-stuffed crepe’ in cream sauce that she had prepared, and it was a culinary masterpiece to my taste buds. I “ooohed” and “ahhed” nearly like last night, enjoying her now fully-bright smiles as I did so. We just spent the rest of the day together in a lazy way, watching some old movies, laughing at our own dumb jokes and just generally having a great time pretending that the rest of the world didn’t exist. All that time I couldn’t help but look at her…her gentle breasts, the curve of her stomach as it flowed into her pelvis and thighs, her legs, and those sweet green eyes.
As the day went on in a “normal” fashion, I couldn’t help but keep her on my mind. In everything I did, I was echoing thoughts of her, and what I wanted to do next, but ideas streamed through me so fast I couldn’t keep up with them.
It was just after dusk when she was bending over to clean the coffee table that something struck me as very natural, something that she was missing. I was looking up paying some bills, watching her buttocks part, seeing the strand of lace go up between the crack of her cheeks, and I just found myself staring at that little circular area of skin in the center, slightly darker than the rest of the sweet whitish-pink of her bottom.
Without even realizing it, I stood up, went to my “little black box” of toys, and I pulled out that very first thing that had set me on my way in the adult store…the small butt plug I’d bought to “ease her in”. It was a little longer than my index finger, and not much fatter at its widest, and I just picked it up, went to the bathroom, lubricated it, and strode straight into the living room where Jennifer still cleaned the coffee table.
She smiled at me as I came in, very brightly, her eyes finding mine, and mine hers, and I came up beside her, holding one hand against her neck to press her slightly down while with the other, I slid the little plug up against her cheeks.
I heard her gasp as I wriggled it past the lace strap, and I found the tiny ring of her gentle anus.
I slid the toy slowly in, not hard or brutal, knowing how that could hurt her more than I would want, letting her small ring relax in stages until it had gone past the part of the toy that was thicker than my knuckle by half-again as much. Once past there, it glided smoothly into her bottom with only another deeply inhaled gasp from her.
Once in, I pressed my finger against its base, making sure it was snuggled in deep and tight.
She gave a little half-moan, half-squeal.
I then brought my hand up from on her neck, and placed my fingers under her chin, tilting her face toward mine. Her soft eyes were now even softer, so vulnerable they almost made me cry, her lower lip trembling a little. With my finger still pressed against the toy to keep it fully pushed inside her, my palm cupping her buttocks, I placed my other hand again on the back of her neck, bringing her face to mine.
My lips met hers very, very gently, just touching the outsides. I pursed them to meet hers, letting my tongue drift out between them only enough to wet hers. She moaned now, more deeply, hungrily but not fiercely, her hands coming up from her sides to cup my own buttocks and stroke my back.
I gently slipped my tongue against her, not penetrating, just touching, tasting, and I felt her tongue respond in kind. The velvet of it licked along my lips, sliding under my own tongue, so soft, her taste so sweet. I wrapped my hand up into her hair, bringing it up against the back of her head, pressing it softly toward me. Our mouths were open against each other now, tongues no longer afraid, breaths now much hotter and faster. Everything about her made me hungry, made me happy, made me want her. I kept my hand against the back of her neck as I began my slow, delicate exploration of her sweet mouth. Her own lips were more hesitant to let me in, but my tongue was not to be refused, and though I pressed in softly, I was insistent.
I met her own tongue gently, the two silky surfaces sliding around each other in lazy circles, then I slipped off to the side to taste the backsides of her teeth, the smoothness of her cheeks. I pulled back from her slowly, letting our lips part, though she leaned in, her lips not wanting mine to go, her little tongue slipping plaintively out of her mouth, seeking mine. Just inches away from her face was all I needed to be in order to look again into those beautiful, now so-bright, so-hungry eyes. The green of them was visible even in the dimness of the room. Her taste and flavor, unadorned an unchanged, made my pussy start to ache, and all the while I knew that I had taken her in her most vulnerable spot. My fingers gripped the tiny dildo, and started very, very gently sliding it in and out of her ass.
With a sharp jolt, her fingers tightened on my own buttocks, a guttural moan pressing past her lips into my mouth, but I didn’t let up. I kept loving her mouth with my own, reassuring her that I loved her as I softly stroked her darker hole until her hips started, of their own volition, moving against my fingers, her breath coming out hotter and hotter into my mouth, her tongue no longer tentative and virginal, but instead coming across the boundaries of my lips and exploring my mouth with a fervor.
Again, the picture formed in my mind, of this, my own private dog-collared sweet-brunette perfection straining against my hand with her buttocks, taking the toy in and out with eagerness while her satin-covered breasts pressed firmly against my nipples and her mouth was locked onto mine with a hunger that seemed to be insatiable. Her hips pushed back and forth rapidly, bumping my own, the dildo coming all the way out and slipping easily all the way back into the now open ring of her anus while her tongue and mine lapped against each other with a rising fervor. I wasn’t even touching my own pussy (though I had my knees separated to try to meet her own hips each time on the “bump”), but I thought I was about ready to come! Her mouth was so sweet, and her soft, gentle bottom had become so hungry that all I wanted to do was just keep holding her and kissing her.
Her hip-grinding grew in intensity, then I felt the little ring of her anus clamp down hard on my toy, holding it in while she went through muscle contractions, her tongue now deeper in my mouth that it ever had been, as if starving for my soul. When she stopped, I left the little tool clenched tightly in her bottom, and pressed her slowly back on the couch, stripping her of all her clothes, and me of all of mine, then I straddled her to look down on my priceless treasure.
Her breasts still gently heaving, her eyes moist and shining, she whispered to me, “My God, Mistress. You’re so beautiful…” Her hands came up my stomach, cupping my own breasts. “So beautiful, so sexy,” she said, sighing.
That she found me beautiful made me want her so much, I bent down to her lips, pressing us together, and I just laid on top of her for a very long time, sliding my bare skin against hers, gently kissing her lips, her mouth, her tongue…all the while, watching her eyes.
She still had the dildo inside her, but I could see she now fully trusted me, her doubts from this morning erased. I had violated her most tender spot and yet showed her pleasure and love. In turn, she showed me myself through her own eyes: beautiful, sexy…truly her Mistress now.
The both of us fully understood that from here on in, I could do anything with her that I had ever imagined.
Those thoughts, the infinity of ideas and possibilities spun on in my mind as I stared down into those open, willing, perfect eyes…
* * *
The END . . . Or, should it continue?