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Swords Across the Pontus

“And a fair morning it is indeed, that the gods have smiled upon me! That I, a warrior true, should be presented with both horse and harlot, when I have lacked both for so long, and such comely creatures both! Shapely, ripe, and plump, and fair game for Arvak, Bane of the Western Wood. Yes, ’tis I, fair one, but despair not; resist me not and I shall not leave you on a hard circumstance, except, perhaps, of a certain. Mayhap a well-horsed wench will partake of sword play of another kind?”
What an asshole, Rina thought, glowering down at him from her saddle. He had stepped out from a copse of birch and fir, interrupting her morning ride. With the marsh closely approaching the well-trod sod of the path on the opposite side, it was an ideal spot for an ambush and had doubtless served the purpose for this nitwit many times; one time too many.
She eyed him carefully; he did not appear to be thriving. He wore no jewelry or adornments and his clothes were suitable for stuffing into the cracks of a drafty hovel, or perhaps starting a fire. His weapons, while not of high quality, would have some value. She noted with interest that the great sword and strong bow were prominently in view, but only his short sword, scarcely larger than a dagger, was worn where it could be quickly drawn and wielded. The man himself could be called neither young nor old, handsome nor unsightly. He had the hard look of a woodsman though she suspected that he hadn’t been eating well of late.
In the end it was mercy as much as profit that motivated her. He had the disheveled look of someone who’d been sleeping outdoors for some while; there might be some drawbacks to the change she was about to introduce into his life but he would likely be more comfortable, eventually.
“I will give you what you ask, clansman”, she said, swinging her leg over the horse and dropping gracefully to the ground. She was a good-sized woman, with the heavy breasts and sturdy shoulders of a milkmaid and nothing of the meek or deferential about her. Arvak eyed her body with naked hunger, but he was not so blind as to miss the sword on her hip.
“Why do you call me clansman?”
“You speak the words of a Southron but you have the accent of an Eastlander.”
“So you hail from the fair East as well!”
“Nah. Just making small talk before our sword play.”
“Oh ho, my lady”, he said grinning broadly. She was glad to see his teeth were all there and mostly straight. “I assure you, once skewered by me none other shall -“
His voice and smile died at the same instant, the instant when Rina drew her sword.
“What is this?” he asked in an entirely different tone of voice.
Rina shrugged innocently. “Sword play. How else do you play swords?”
“My lady, I assure you. I intend to treat you quite civilly but I have a temper when crossed.”
She chuckled and deftly drew a cross with her sword tip in the air in front of him.
“Mock me not, I warn you!”
“Draw your sword, pinky.”
His eyes did flare then, and in former times she may have had reason for concern. His smugness gone, she actually found him appealing. He drew the small sword, a good foot shorter than her weapon, and advanced carefully. She circled him in the path, crossing blades, until she was facing the way she’d come, up a slight rise to where the trees opened out into a meadow.
She lunged, forcing him backward up the path. Despite the greater size and weight of her weapon, she wielded it much more nimbly and with greater power, forcing him to constantly parry. She let him tire, then tire some more, and finally flipped his sword out of his hand with a deft twist of her wrist. He licked his lips and looked at her sideways.
“I am unarmed.”
“No, you’re not.”
They both looked at the large sword on his hip. His eyes darted while he thought.
“I will not draw it”, he announced. “It is the sword of the first-born of my family, used only to settle blood feuds. This is not such a contest.”
Bullshit, thought Rina, although she conceded it was a more inventive answer than she was expecting. She sheathed her sword. “Very well”, she said. “A less direct contest, then. We shall use our bows to target shoot at distance. Do you see the broken tree on the far side of the meadow?”
She pointed toward a lightning-struck shred of trunk, well out from the cluster of woods and unmistakable, about 100 yards away. Arvak pursed his lips. “I must confess I have not prospered of late and my weapons are not in a proper state of repair. I fear my string would snap before drawing a target so far as that.”
Rina advanced on him suddenly, striking him in the shoulder.
“No weapons at all, then. Woman to man, as simple and fair as could be.”
“What! Strike a woman! The ghosts of my fathers would -“
SWAT! Rina had slid her hand out of her riding glove and swung it against his cheek. The flare came back into his eyes. Rina drew her arm back.
“I would not were I you -“
SMACK! Arvak could take no more and lunged at her. She grabbed his wrists and held him off, smiling, before abruptly pulling him toward her. Smoothly, she caught him and pressed close to his side, trapping his left arm between their bodies, while reaching behind him and catching his other wrist in her right hand.
Despite his struggles, she held him as easily as she would a child, laughing until he went limp.
“Make sport of me no longer! You guess my shame, though I know not how!”
“Shame? Why Arvak, whatever do you mean?”
He hung his head, and spoke sadly. “Some months ago, while visiting the village of my birth, a plague struck all the men there, making them as weak and mild as babes.”
“And what of the women?”
“Women? What?”
Rina released her grip on him and, taking his belt in one hand and holding the other just below his throat, lifted him bodily off the ground and up over her head.
“By the gods!”
“No, by the goddesses!” she corrected him, putting him back down. “It wasn’t just your village, dolt! There was a revolt in the heavens! Don’t you remember the night of the falling stars?”
Arvak shuddered at the memory of the huge, flaming balls streaking through the sky, as ill an omen as men had ever imagined. “Imir was cast down by Lyta! The goddesses have usurped the power of gods! Freta holds Wootun as a servant, keeping him meek and obedient, and the other gods are as chattel! And as in the heavens, so shall it be on Earth.”
Rina checked herself; in excitement she tended to take on rather florid speech patterns.
“And Lyta’s gift to women, her favored ones, is the ability to rule over our males as she rules over hers. That is your plague, Arvak. The will of the goddess.”
She put her hands in the collar of his shabby tunic and tore it wide open, yanking it down and exposing his shoulder and chest.
“We do love a bit of sword play as well as we ever did, though.”
She reached below his belt and squeezed; as far as she could tell he seemed reasonably well-supplied, before he leapt backward like a scared cat.
“Are you mad, woman? I could no more ‘play at swords’ now than…than -“
“Play at swords? I hope you’re better at the one way than the other.”
He turned and ran. Rina watched him for a moment, irritated, and gave two sharp whistles. Seconds later her horse came trotting up from his grazing. Little in life was more valuable than a good horse at a moment of need.
She mounted up and set off after Arvak, who was making more or less for the remnant of the dead tree in the meadow. She gathered her rope and casually tossed a loop over the fleeing male, pulling him to a halt no more roughly than she needed to.
Dismounting, she reeled him in despite his thrashing around, dodging and catching his blows until she got tired of it and drove her thigh up between his legs, perhaps just a little more roughly than necessary.
“That’s for calling me a harlot, by the way.”
Arvak slumped to his knees and she bound his hands together in front of him with no further difficulty. The tree was just a few yards off now, with one sturdy-looking branch remaining on the shattered trunk. Rina tossed the rope over the branch and pulled, lifting first his arms and then himself, tying it off when he was forced to lift his heels off the ground.
She took the great sword off his hip and examined it.
“Was this really an heirloom?”
“Nae; tis just…my sword.”
She looked at the bow and found it to be of the same middling workmanship as the sword. They might draw enough coin from the broker for a night of debauchery; two, maybe.
She tied the weapons onto her saddle and took a small knife from a saddlebag. Standing behind him, she began to slice apart the remnants of his clothing and pull them off his body.
“By the Vanir! Have you no shame, woman?”
“Not particularly. What’s this big scar?”
“I was gored by a fidont when I was thirteen.”
“You’re lucky to be alive.”
She tore the last shreds away and pushed him forward. Reflexively, he stopped and balanced himself by pointing his toes, flexing the back of his legs. She nodded appreciatively and gave him a long grope, listening to him gasp slightly at the familiarity.
Rina stepped around in front of him; he eyed her with warily but with no fear despite the knife in her hand. The clan feuds were brutal and captives tortured, but she had already denied being a clanswoman. Despite the tenuous nature of his situation, he was curious what her intentions ultimately were.
His chest had a coating of fine, slightly curly hair, a line of it running south across his taut, hard abdomen. His legs were thick and seemed larger than needed to support his narrow hips. His genitals seemed retracted into his body, but that didn’t disturb her. She knew that running about and taking a knee were not the sorts of activity conducive to lengthy displays.
She grabbed him by his pubic patch and yanked him toward her, producing a yelp. With a swift but controlled flick of her wrist, she sliced the tautly pulled hairs and flipped them away into the breeze. She glanced quickly at him; this was an act of humiliation tantamount to castration in many tribes. If that was the case for him, he hid it admirably, looking more puzzled than indignant.
She finished up the chore, carefully sliding the blade across the skin. There was stubble left, but it was as good a job as she could do with the knife. Unfortunately, having its shelter removed seemed to make his cock retract even further into his body.
“Does turtle want to come out to play?” she cooed, tickling the pinkish-brown head. She fondled and squeezed, even kissed and nibbled it to no effect. Not the desired result, obviously, but males handled subjugation in different ways; she wasn’t through yet.
She shed her own clothing now, down to her calf-high riding boots. His eyes widened at her full breasts and pointed nipples, strong thighs framing her own unsheared forest. She nestled herself against him, feeling his body still magnificently hard and full despite having been drained of its power. His skin was smooth and slightly slick with sweat; sniffing him she began to feel slightly slick herself.
Still, there was no salute; he looked at her sheepishly.
“Surely and I do regret; betimes, no amount of coaxing -“
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not done yet.”
She walked back to the horse and took a riding crop and leather strap from her saddlebag, both of them showing signs of use.
“Yet never once have I used either on you,” she murmured to the horse, which held its head just so, allowing her to stroke it.
She announced her return to Arvak with a powerful stroke of the strap across his ass. He started, of course, then rolled his shoulders, bracing the rest of his body. This seemed to be more the sort of thing he had been expecting.
She worked his body deliberately, at times like a painter on a canvas, finding the spots that needed a dab or a stroke, and the ones that needed a stark dash of color. Other moments, she felt in almost a trance, the implement in her hand seeming an extension of herself, able to taste and feel his skin in that instant it made contact. The feeling built and broadened, anticipating before the impact and savoring after, and the contact itself seeming to join their bodies together in an instant of unity.
Breasts heaving as she finished, Rina found that she had still failed to get a rise out of him, despite his sharp breaths and gasps. Miffed, she pinched his penis and pulled until his toes could barely touch the ground before letting it snap back.
“One way or another,” she told him heavily, tying a leather thong around his balls before untying the rope and letting his hands down. “Now get on your back.” She liked how he did as he was told without hesitation. She had found that obedience seemed to come naturally to males, once they got over themselves.
She stood over him, grinning, her foot on his chest, pulling up on the thong and stretching his balls, relishing her power over him. “I could hang you up by these, you know”, she said, giving the thong a hard tug before dropping herself onto his face. “I’d do a good job if I were you.”
She settled herself heavily on his face and looked down at him, obscured by her thighs and bush. She ran her fingers through his hair and leaned forward onto her hands, closing her eyes. He either had some aptitude or some experience because his tongue slithered immediately to the right places. She shimmied with pleasure and he spread his hands across her broad ass cheeks to steady her. A bold act, but not unwelcome.
If Rina had thought to look over her shoulder, she would’ve seen that he was finally sprouting, his serpent uncoiling in spite (or perhaps because) of the sharp pulls on the thong tied to his balls as her pleasure peaked. He kept his hands on her, so overwhelmed by the sexual power of her body he was scarcely aware of his own body’s reaction to it.
She arched her back and pumped her hips hard into his face, eyes clenched and mouth open. Never one for shrieking or screaming, she weathered her orgasm with sharp, forceful exhalations, and her fingers pulled up handful after handful of the tough tangled grass.
Finished, on all fours, she hung her head and let her breathing return to normal while he lapped up the juice from her thighs and the matted hair at her center. After some while, long enough for Arvak’s blossom to wilt, she lifted herself up.
She brushed the grass and dirt off her knees and walked over to her mount, as it calmly chewed a mouthful of grass; he’d seen his mistress do this kind of thing before. She found his currycomb and began to clean his coat. It was already clean, but it was a chore she could do without thinking, and moving her body extended the floaty feeling of well-being she experienced after a good, clean cum. Besides, she wanted to see how Arvak would react to being used in this way.
It didn’t seem to bother him. He had gotten to his knees, hand and balls still bound but not apparently self-conscious now that she was exposed, too. He watched her tend the horse and waited.
“You may have worked your way out of the fields and into the boudoir with that, Eastlander”, she said at length. “Particularly if you can get the rabbit to come out the hole.”
“Only to enter another”, he answered with a grin.
“That’s enough wit.”
He smiled and glanced down. “If I may make so bold to inquire – what of a boudoir?”
“Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
“To one who already knows.”
“I mean I’ll sell you for sex rather than labor. I get more money and you get an easier life. Happy happy joy joy.”
His eyes widened. “You’re a slaver?”
“Lucky for you. If I were sheriff you’d have hung by your neck, not your hands. I believe that’s what they do with brigands in these parts. Or did; things are changing everywhere these days.”
His eyes darted and his head turned in slight increments while she retied his hands, cut the rope, and coiled the rest to hang on the saddle. Honestly, Rina thought, a snake could hear the wheels grinding.
“It may be,” he said, as she picked up the lead for his balls, “that milady’s advantage would lie in keeping Arvak by her side.”
“Lady, is it? A bit ago, I was a harlot. At this rate, I shall be queen by supper.”
Arvak, quite rightly, chose to let any reference to the harlot comment pass. She tossed a blanket over the saddle and mounted up, still wearing nothing but her cloak and riding boots. She yanked on his lead, nudged the horse much more gently, and the three of them began to amble slowly along.
“I can no longer offer the fearsome power of the warrior, but I possess much knowledge and many skills that could prove of use.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“I know the woods and marshes hereabouts like the back of my hand.”
“I intend to leave these woods.”
“I know the ways of the trapper, and where to find the Boreal Vole.”
“I trade in cocks, not furs.”
He wouldn’t let himself be put off by the intentional crudity.
“I am an accomplished bard, as fine as any in Coruza.”
Rina looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re a minstrel? A singer of songs and teller of tales?”
“Just so!”
“Have you committed many to memory?”
“Dozens! Nae – hundreds!”
“And do you accompany yourself on the lyre?”
“I sing like a bird in spring whilst I play the lyre, lute, or dulcimer!”
“Tales of knights errant, songs of loves lost and refound?”
“Yes! Oh, yes, milady, yes!”
“I hate that shit”, Rina scowled. “Maybe I will sell you for a field hand.”
His face fell from a fully-furled banner of hope to a limp pennant in dead air. In a way, this was more satisfying than beating him.
They sauntered along. Arvak started to speak several more times, but was cut off by a savage yank on his lead. He proved to be more persistent than bright.
“Milady – AGH! Is-there-not-aught-I-can-do?” He blurted out the words rapidly before she could pull on him again.
“Hmm, let’s see”, she drawled. “It’s proving to be a warm, sticky day. Perhaps if I ride side-saddle you could find a way to…refresh me.”
Rina smirked and at him and slid one leg alongside the other, pointing her big, bare bottom out at him. It was beautifully shaped, bouncing slightly with the clip-clop of the horse, a trail of hair from her pubic area circling around her brown button. Arvak glanced from there to her face, making sure he gauged her meaning correctly.
“Aren’t you going to slow down?”
“I can’t hardly slow down any more, and I’m not going to stop. I thought you wanted me to keep you?”
With that, he dove in and proved the nimbleness of his tongue earlier was no fluke. Rina moved herself around to make sure that he got access to every nook and cranny. Nicely done, but she didn’t have any particular use for him, other than the obvious. She didn’t really hate tales and songs, but she suspected that she would weary of hearing Arvak’s voice long before he did. He’d shut up when she told him to, of course, and seem happy enough about it at first. Eventually, though, he’d get sulky, and that got tiresome very quickly.
If you traveled in a group, of course, sulky could be more easily ignored but Rina was finding that an entourage was its own kind of tiresome.
“So there you are!”
Rina had guided them to the lip of the ridge overlooking her camp. Tridda stood in the clearing, near the string of four slaves they’d already captured, looking something other than entirely happy to see Rina. She was a long-nosed pear of a woman who always seemed to be scratching herself somewhere. Rina had brought her with because she was available and claimed to be knowledgeable with herb lore and woodcraft. So far all she’d done was agitate the slaves and eat as much as all of them combined.
Arvak had finally yanked his head out of her ass at the sound of Tridda’s voice and moaned slightly. It might’ve been at the sight of the other slaves, connected by chains to the cuffs around their genitals, bringing the reality of his predicament home. It might also have been at the sight of Tridda herself, squinting at him with her face scrunched up in a most appalling fashion.
“Found another one, did you? Well done! We’ll have a hard time surpassing this in future forays! Talk of it around the fire, we will!” Tridda’s moods ranged all the way from surly to grouchy, with a dash of horny reserved only for the slaves, thank all the goddesses. This forced cheerfulness was beyond suspicious.
“He found me, more like.”
“Aye, and a fine looking lad he is, to be sure. The two of you got on well, I take it?”
“We reached an agreement.” Rina dismounted and handed Tridda Arvak’s lead. “Put him on the string with the rest.” He gave her a regretful, pleading look, which she did not acknowledge.
Tridda took him away with a twitter. Rina took Arvak’s weapons from the horse. She put the bow over her back and examined the quiver of arrows. She took his sword and hefted it in her hand. It perhaps might’ve been of a bit better quality than she’d first thought.
She patted it against her hand and walked over to where Tridda was shackling Arvak, making five on the string. It was a good haul, although they had to be brought to market flush and active, not listless and pale like these four. Rina clenched her jaw, her suspicions confirmed. “All four of them?”
“What?” Tridda stuttered slightly.
“You had to fuck all four of them into fatigue?”
Tridda twitched, then squirmed, and then twitched some more. “You were gone a long time.”
“I told you leave me one of them.”
“I didn’t know you’d be gone so long!” Whiny; petulant.
“And why would that make any difference, you foul twat!” Rina’s anger didn’t explode; it shot at Tridda in a focused beam. Rina often found herself loathing people after relatively short periods of time, but few deserved it so much as this sow. She advanced with Arvak’s sword in her hand.
“You dare insult me?” Tridda’s bluster was even less convincing than Arvak’s had been; she was a goat facing down a dragon and she knew it. Rina held the tip of the sword under her chin.
“Put the chastities on them and give me the keys”, she hissed.
Sourly, Tridda turned and found the pile of iron chastities. They were crude, uncomfortable, and very effective. She started with Arvak, who winced and squirmed with pain.
“Careful!” barked Rina. “They’re worth something in Coruza. You’re not.”
Tridda’s shoulders hunched as if she’d been struck. She finished with the rest of the slaves and sullenly brought Rina the keys.
“Get them moving. Meet me at the old signal hill by nightfall and you just might last this trip.”
With that, Rina mounted up and galloped away.
She rode off her anger. As richly as Tridda deserved her share of it, Rina knew as much belonged to herself. Rina had spotted Tridda for a selfish, stupid fool from the first; didn’t that make her as great a fool for partnering with her? That slaving was a two-woman job and no one else had been available didn’t make her feel much better. She rode on, looking at the splendor around her.
The landscape was lush in the golden sunshine, although she saw several places where the underbrush needed to be cleared. The ways of the tribes needed to be remembered, even though so much other ‘wisdom’ needed to pass and fade away, as her anger began to do.
At least it was a short trip; only four days march to Coruza and a nice profit even if they didn’t find another male wandering about.
Consoling herself with that and the near-certainty that there would be more suitable confederates in Coruza, she dismounted briefly and dug through her pack for the ivory shaft. She found it at the bottom of the bag, wrapped in soft leather, warm to the touch. Meant to comfort a traveler over long journeys, it had been beautifully carved for her by a village elder when she went forth to make her way in the world.
She handled it briefly, rubbing her fingertips along the flare of the head. When she found herself wondering if Arvak’s was like that when aroused, she shook her head and fastened it to the seat of the saddle, pointing straight up.
Rina mounted carefully, working herself down the length of it, cooing as much to herself as to her mount, keeping them both steady. When she was finally, firmly on the saddle, she urged her mount slowly forward, allowing herself to bounce with his uneven gait.
Soon, it was time to urge him on a bit faster.
Moments after that, her hair flying out behind her and face lifted up, she watched the clouds floating above and imagined herself soaring up to meet them. Beneath, a truth not articulated but known all the same drifted as lazily as the clouds – sometimes, nothing was as valuable as a good horse.

Strange HER in the night

The 17th floor is a hell of a place to watch a storm.
It seems like a living thing. The raindrops spin and swirl in shafts of wind, hesitate slightly in an updraft, each tracing its own unique path to the Earth.
The night is warm, the apartment dark behind me except for a tiny lamp on the end table. I’m standing naked in the balcony doorway, smoking. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before; I didn’t think about it, really, it just seemed like the thing to do. The lightning is frequent, sometimes close. I suppose if anybody was looking they could see my nudity during the strikes, but so what if they do?
I’m thinking about lighting another cigarette when a sudden surge of air hits me. It’s a gust straight out of January, aimed particularly at my genitals.
I stumble backward into the apartment, hunched over slightly by the blast of cold. There’s a sudden change in air pressure; bizarrely, I think of the storm catching its breath in surprise. Then, the thunder – starting quietly and building so quickly to that frightening noise that sounds like the sky being torn open.
The lightning strikes my balcony, inches from where I had just been standing. I’m tossed backward, blinded and stunned.
If I actually lost consciousness, it wasn’t for very long. The storm is still raging outside, my ears are still ringing from the thunder, and the lightning bolt is still seared into my optic nerve, the ghosts of its jagged edges bouncing as I move my eyes.
There’s someone on the balcony.
It isn’t possible, but there she is, and it is most clearly a she, her body silhouetted by the glow of the city. She enters the apartment, gliding with a sleek elegance, and steps into the glow of the lamp, looking down at me sprawled on the floor.
Her skin is the color of cool milky marble, her long straight hair raven black. She looks slightly exotic to me, Mediterranean, entirely nude.
Her breasts are absurd. They are full and large, the buoyant lighter-than-air pair of a comic book super-heroine. The impression is heightened by her slimness, though ‘slimness’ isn’t the right term. She doesn’t look skinny or anorexic, but dehydrated, like her skin is suctioned onto her muscles which are suctioned onto her bones. There seems to be no cushioning to her, no fat or moisture or veins or unnecessary flesh whatever.
Her labia are as freeze-dried as the rest of her, drawn back toward the frame of her body. Her clitoris is a rosy dripping cone, protruding and clearly visible, as she steps over to me, sinuous and fluid, as though her bones are bending as she moves.
She stands over me, her head tilted to one side, looking at me like I’m a curious specimen. For my part, it simply hasn’t occurred to me to move. I feel no fear, only dumb surprise and growing arousal.
She straddles me and drops her cunt onto my mouth, her hands on my belly. Fluid flows from her into my mouth; it seems to come directly through her skin as though it were being squeezed out of a sponge. It’s very much like rainwater, but there’s an odd tingling tang on my skin, like the sensation of touching your tongue to a battery.
She shifts and shimmies as I eagerly lap at her. I feel her hands on me, cool and dry. She’s saying something, a soft sing-song chant in a language I can’t classify at all. She caresses my genitals, my cock already fully erect, but straining to meet her touch. She cups my balls and tugs gently on my scrotum, fondling me exquisitely.
I don’t know how long we long stay like this; time doesn’t seem to mean what it usually does. I become aware of movement within my body, an unsettling sensation of veins and capillaries and vesicles channeling fluids to my groin. There’s a growing sensation of discomfort, as though my genitals are being inflated like water balloons.
She leans over, holding her head over my crotch. The inflated feeling becomes something resembling numbness, though I can still feel the motion of fluids within me. She clutches my penis just behind the head; then she tightens her grip painfully and PULLS. My legs quiver and kick, my hips buck, but my mind is strangely disconnected from the pain. I merely note it rather than truly feel it.
How long this goes on, I couldn’t say; it isn’t brief. Eventually, she lifts herself off me, stretching languidly. She looks down at my crotch, an eyebrow raised, assessing her handiwork. She looks at me, her eyes oblique, inviting me to look.
It’s so ridiculous I have to laugh. My testicles are the size of cantaloupes, the shaft of my penis the breadth of a baseball bat and as long as my forearm, the head a grotesquely distorted lump the size of a doorknob, and all of it a bruised purple.
She seems quite pleased with it. She straddles me again, facing away, gathers my cock in her hand and, pointing it straight up, lowers herself onto it.
If you’ve ever watched a nature special and seen a python devour prey far bigger around than itself, you have an idea what it was like watching her take in my deformed cock. It felt like her cunt was swallowing it; gripping tightly, then loosening and sliding down a little before tightening again.
The inside of her cunt was not the slick heat of a normal woman, but as cool as her hand. My cock slides in but not back out, trapped, feeling like she’ll never give it back. Finally, impossibly, I’m all the way in, her weight fully resting across my hips; I can feel her clit poking into my scrotum.
My bloated testicles are resting on the floor, her hands on top of them, rocking them, positioning them just so. I have a flash of intuition for what she is about to do, but my traumatized body is incapable of acting to protect itself.
When she punches the heels of her hands into my balls the pain is horrific. My body convulses like I’m being electrocuted, but she is entirely undisturbed. She squashes them flat, then releases them, allowing them to expand and refill before crushing them again. Over and over again, she uses them like twin pumps to draw all the cum out of me, but it can’t possibly all be cum. It seems as though she’s taking gallons out of me, and I don’t want to guess what else it might be.
The amount of fluid diminishes each time, my balls growing smaller with each crushing. Before she’s done, they’re just little raisins she squishes between thumb and forefinger.
She lifts herself off my cock, which is still over-inflated and as hard as a tree trunk. As she turns around and kneels by my side, I can see the change in her and it is amazing. Her body isn’t sere but full, literally fleshed out; her skin tone is no longer an unnatural paper-white, but rosy and flush.
Her hands are warm and moist now as she grips my cock and leans forward. I have only the briefest glimpse of her fangs before I feel them, tiny points of freezing heat penetrating the skin on the underside of my cock. The power of the suction of her mouth on me is shocking. My cock stays completely hard for a surprisingly long time before it finally begins to deflate, her head following it down, down, until at last she releases it, a shriveled peanut.
I wasn’t terribly concerned about the humiliating state of my manhood, though, given that I was dying. The only moment I can muster is a slight twitch of my finger; I feel a shadow-self (soul?) begin to sink out of my body.
She was standing over me, a strong, healthy young woman twirling her hair with a finger. Instead of plainly visible ribs, she has a cutely plump belly over a dark wedge of pubic hair, her behind jiggling as strolls around the place, her curiosity apparently restored as well. My vision is starting to spot and cloud when she returns. She kneels next to me, cradling my head, working a stiff pink-brown nipple into my mouth. She starts the sing-song chanting again and gives her enormous torpedo breast a squeeze, squirting sticky wetness into my mouth. Each mouthful brings me further back; when she lays my head down I’m exhausted but firmly connected to life again. She strokes my head and I’m aware that the storm is still raging outside. The lightning flashes again and she’s gone. I try to get up, falter, instead falling hard and fast into unconsciousness.

I wake in bed. The images are sharp and vivid in my mind. Abruptly, I throw the covers back and yank my underwear down. All is well.
Relieved beyond words, I roll my legs out of bed, trying to recall exactly which combination of illicit substances I had abused the previous night. Anything that conjured such a bizarre dream had to be recorded and avoided – or retried.
I shuffle to the bathroom, the familiar pressure down below. I yawn, grateful it’s not a work day, heedlessly draining myself into the toilet. A dream that fucking weird, I decide, should be avoided in the future. It’s just a little much.
I reach to flush and stop short.
The toilet is full of blood.
Skin prickling on the back of my neck, I start giggling, but it doesn’t turn hysterical until I turn my penis and find the two sharp, red dots underneath

Meet The New Army

The auditorium was filled with a hundred nervous soon-to-be-former civilians. They eyed the uniformed women stationed near the exits with a mixture of lust and apprehension; the appearance inspired the former, the attitudes the latter. Like every new batch of recruits throughout history, these were wondering just what the fuck had happened that they found themselves here.
At the front of the auditorium, six men entered, nude, in single file, nude. They marched to a point where the group was centered behind the podium, then turned with military precision (what else?) and stood at attention. Their genitals were tightly bound, penises fully erect; their pubic hair was gone, tattoos reading Property US Army in its place.
The recruits knew well enough to stand and face front without prompting from the uniforms as another woman entered the room. Somewhat tall, she wore the casual working uniform of the New Army – a green cap, a T-shirt of the same shade, and Lycra shorts.
The uniform seemed a size or two too small on her ample proportions. Her breasts tested the simple cotton of the T-shirt and the shorts seemed almost painted on. It was an obvious choice in a society where female sexuality and authority were becoming synonymous.
She stood behind the podium and looked at the group. They didn’t look so very different from the others that had come through since Reorganization. Nervous, a bit disoriented perhaps, primarily in need of someone to show them a way for the world to make sense again.
She had the traditional army plan for that. Tell them loud, tell them crude, tell them simple – do your duty and let your superiors worry about everything else.
“Welcome, gentlemen”, she started amiably enough. “My name is Captain Amy Masterson. I am the commander of this company. As you are no doubt aware, the Army has been re purposed, like every other institution in our society. Therefore, the role of the soldier has been re purposed.
“You will not be called upon to bear arms against the armies of other nations. That era of human history has passed. However, as soldiers always have, you will still be in the service of the CUNT-ree”, deliberate annunciation, “you will be trained, you will learn to obey your superiors. Your superiors…will be anyone with tits.”
She paused. There were some light chuckles, some sounding a little forced That was about normal.
“That is the literal truth, of course. The Officer Corps is by definition female. There are no female enlisted troops.” It was amazing how many of them didn’t realize that. “You will respond to your superiors with enthusiastic deference; you will internalize unthinking obedience to females.” Some of them almost certainly would not; they were the future toilet cleaners and potato peelers, permitted to masturbate once a week under supervision. The best thing about that type was they were identifiable almost immediately and they were becoming steadily fewer in number.
“There is no time like the present to start the habit of obedience to your superiors, gentlemen. At this time, all of you will disrobe completely and I do mean completely. No wristwatches or headgear of any kind. Right down to your bare ass.”
Most of them knew this was coming; hell, it was why some of them were here. There were shocked faces here and there, but the ROTC cadets, college women mostly, were on them quickly.
Capt. Amy noted that this group was a bit older; mostly in their 30’s, so there wasn’t much weeping. Deemed unnecessary, redundant, incompetent, overpaid, or simply in a female’s career path in the outside world, they would become raw material in the New Regime, their minds and bodies molded to suit its purposes. She felt useful, damned useful, to be doing this work; what would be done with these men otherwise?
“You should know it is a myth that you will be punished for unauthorized erections in the Army. I don’t know how some of these urban myths get started. Your officers like hard cocks. We regard them as an expression of the desire to serve.”
Their officers also considered their erections to be playthings, discipline opportunities, clothes hooks, bookmarks, and who knew what all else, but Capt. Amy knew the boys would be finding that out soon enough. No need to get the poor dears all flustered until there was some kind of purpose to it.
Some of the faces were stoic, some clearly embarrassed, a few dazed and disoriented. One alone seemed angry and resentful, staring directly at her. She saw him without looking at him – about six foot, thick-trunked workman’s build, dark hair, striking eyes, and very, very erect. Interesting.
“I will now administer the oath of induction. Raise your right hand and repeat after me.
“I do solemnly swear to serve my country and uphold its laws…to obey the commands of my superiors…to learn and perform my duties to the best of my abilities…and that I will adapt my attitude and behavior to my role in the New Regime, so help me God.”
She paused, waiting for the last arm to drop.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. You are all now members of the US Army. I suggest you obey your officers.”
Capt. Amy left the auditorium, followed by her honor guard of six. There would be some time before she had to address the battalion again; more than enough time for her to have her privates present their privates.

In the auditorium, the ROTC cadets had taken over. A set of double doors had been opened on one side of the auditorium and the recruits were being herded through. The riding crops were also making their first appearance.
“Form two lines! Form two lines out the doors!”
“C’mon, now, which part of two lines don’t you get?”
“Not so close! Keep your dicks out of each other’s asses. If you wanted to do that you should’ve joined the Navy.”
“Hey, you! Yeah, you. What’s your name, honey?”
“Form two lines!”
Through the doors were teams of barbers, working in pairs. The recruits were placed on a contraption which very closely resembled a gynecologist’s examination table. Stirrups held their feet wide apart; their buttocks were completely exposed and available.
The barbers worked at a frightening pace, trimming pubic hair away into piles on the floor, lathering the trimmed pubic area as well as their scrotum’s, perineal area, and buttocks; not the wispiest layer of down was left to cushion the blows they’d receive from their officers. The ‘Property US Army’ stencils were applied front and back in lime green, guaranteed to show up against any skin tone.
From there, they were directed to a room filled with bins of incrementally sized cock harnesses. The cranky woman with the hang-dog expression actually loved her job and was very good at it; there was just no percentage in letting a bunch of raw recruits see how much she enjoyed handling them.
“Lootennit”, she drawled, “they dicks is all hard.”
“So get the test tubes, Calloway,” a cadet answered.
Calloway was perfectly well aware of the test tubes; she just liked talking about dicks. She had a carton of test tubes and some markers.
“Just squirt it in here, boys, and write ya name on the side. Never can have too many samples”, she said with a throaty chuckle.
“I – you want me to do what?” asked a lanky redhead.
“Spank that monkey, soldier!” barked the cadet who left a stripe on his ass.
Calloway, amused, made a jerking motion with her arm. “I know you how, honey. Don’t be shy.”
Blushing furiously, the recruit held the test tube to the end of his cock and began to stroke. The others with erections followed suit; those without stood meekly as Calloway hefted their genitals in her hands appraisingly, then handed them each two harnesses.
“One’s a spare, but don’t lose t’other – those lootennits will smack you if you do.”
Of course, the lieutenants smacked them anyway, as that’s what lieutenants do, but the recruits appreciated even the slightest sympathetic notion.
It took some time for them all to come under Calloway’s gaze; the first recruits through the room cooled their heels for over an hour – the ‘hurry up and wait’ mentality of the army hadn’t changed. At length, they assembled in another auditorium-type of room, this one featuring low benches, spaced well apart.
The men milled about aimlessly, the instinct of waiting for the women to tell them what to do already asserting itself. The cadets checked their clipboards and began writing numbers on the recruits’ chests with red marker.
The time also allowed Capt. Amy to catch up, albeit with just four of her honor guard. Two of them, ravaged and unconscious, lay sprawled where she left them in her quarters. Feeling rather kittenish (ravaging two such brutes in such a short period of time was something of a feat, even for her) she put her game face on and entered the room.
She looked for ‘Blackie’, as she had dubbed him, and spotted him toward the back – just where she’d expect an attitude case to be. He was not openly defiant, but he completely lacked the meek, confused air of the others; this one was clearly in need of a hard hand, she thought. Just her type.
“You have a number written on your chest”, Capt. Amy called out. “If that number is one, come stand behind the bench front left. If it is two, bench front right. Three, the bench behind one. Four, the bench behind two, and so on.”
They managed it relatively easily, only a couple of them needing a cadet to pull them into place. Not bad for a hundred raw recruits.
“Get on your knees on the bench in front of you”, she projected. They obeyed with minimal hesitation. “Now put your hands on the floor in front of you.”
Now the hesitation was not minimal. A few of them simply weren’t well coordinated and almost fell off the bench. Rather more of them seem to sense what was coming and looked around as though they’d find a way out of it. No such luck; the cadets soon had them all positioned. Blackie, she noted, had stayed statue still, ignoring the promptings of his cadet, until every other male was in position. Only then did he comply, placing his hands on the floor smoothly, in complete control of his body. Oh, yes – just her type.
She paused, digging a whistle out of her pocket. This was a delicious moment – two hundred dangling testicles, two hundred quivering buttocks. She liked letting their predicament, the gender subjugation, soak in.
“You are about to receive your first lesson in the Army chain of command. You have been broken down into squads of five. Each squad has a squad leader. Squad leaders, introduce yourselves.”
She held the whistle to her mouth and blew five sharp staccato notes. The squad leaders, paddles in hand, brought down five sharps smacks on the ass of the recruit on one end of their bench.
Five more sharp staccato notes for the next recruit and so forth, until the squad leaders had been introduced to each of their new recruits. “Whenever your squadron leaders have taken the time to address your asses in this way, you are to thank her. You say, ‘Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!’ Say it now, say it loud!”
The few half-hearted ‘thank you’s she heard were scarcely better than silence.
“That sucked! Squadron leaders, introduce yourselves double time!”
This time it was ten blows of the whistle, the paddles swinging with an intensified vigor. The sound filled the room.
“And now you say -“
“That’s what I like to hear! Now then – each pair of squadron leaders reports to a patrol leader. Her rank is Second Lieutenant. \\Lieutenants, introduce yourselves to your patrols.”
Each Lieutenant introduced herself to her ten-man patrol, ten times each. Their patrols bawled out their thanks in unison, quite enthusiastically. Capt. Amy felt very confident that Blackie was just mouthing the words and not actually making a sound.
Next came the platoon leaders, four First Lieutenants. Each delivered ten each to her twenty -five recruits, some of them whimpering by the time she was finished. Names were taken.
Capt. Amy now stepped away from the podium, taking her small strap from a peg on its side. She motioned to one of her honor guard, the blond, who stepped forward.
“Company ten-HUT!”
The recruits were put back on their feet, a few of them none too steady. Blackie, of course, stood straight and scowling.
“I am your company commander”, Capt. Amy lifted her voice to them. “I will now proceed with the last of our introductions. This is how it’s properly done.”
Her blond, cock as stiff and straight as his spine, saluted smartly.
“Private Loyal Anderson, ma’am!”
He spun and bent over.
“Note the position the private has taken”, Capt. Amy directed the group. “Insides of his feet shoulder-width apart, grasping his shins just above the ankles, knees slightly bent. You will assume this position when I approach. This way, you see, I can get at your balls.”
Pvt. Anderson was wearing the same type of harness as the recruits, forcing his testicles away from his body, dangling and vulnerable. Capt. Amy grasped them and pulled them back between his legs.
“I am charged by the Army to ensure that you have two intact testicles when you enter the Army, and that your testicles are still intact when you leave. I will test first one thusly -“
She brought the end of the strap down smartly on Pvt. Anderson’s left testicle.
“Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!”
“Then the other.”
“Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!”
“It is imperative that you acknowledge otherwise I cannot know that your balls are still attached! We commence – now!”
The first recruit, eyes wide in horror at being first, looked at his squad leader. She responded by laying her crop across his ass.
“Obey your orders!”
“Private Harlan Papelu, Ma’am!”
He spun, nearly fell over, then steadied himself. Capt. Amy held her hand over his ass, still radiating heat from meeting his many superiors, before pulling his testicles back and giving each one a healthy swat, his buttocks clenching. Much to his own relief, Pvt. Papelu cried out a ‘Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!’ at the appropriate time.
“Remain in position.”
She proceeded to greet the other members of his squad, then excused them to their squad leader, eyes watering, reddened buttocks jiggling ever so slightly.
She moved quickly through the company, saving Blackie for last.
He was smart; he calculated his hesitation to within a millisecond of insubordination, then assumed the position.
“Private Monty Briggs, ma’am.”
Spoken rather than yelled. His squad leader laid one across his exposed buttocks and raised her arm for another, but Capt. Amy held up her hand to stop her.
She cupped his balls in one hand, laying the other one over the top. They were spongy and warm and a bit outsized, and she flattened them between her palms, slowly, by degrees.
Pvt. Monty Briggs exhaled after a minute or so, a bit raggedly, but the rest of his body held steady. She released with her top hand, keeping them cupped underneath, and took up her strap.
“Ma’am, thank y-“
“Ma’am, th-“
A pause.
“Ma’am, thank-”, he winced in anticipation of a blow that didn’t come, “ma’am thank you ma’am!” he finished quickly.
Amy struck the other one rapidly, ignored his ‘thank you’ and reached for his cock.
It was fully, completely engorged.
I knew it.
She pulled his erection back between his legs, gave it a very solid swat, then released it to thwack! against his belly She gave the squad leader a meaningful look; the younger woman nodded.
“Be all that you can be, Private”, she said before walking away to gather up her honor guard as the squad leader bellowed at her charges. “I love this fucking job”, she whispered to herself.

What A Difference A Day Makes

Part1- intro

The expensive suite and real tan walked into the secretary pool, a 10 lady team of expert typists doing the bidding of just one man, that man is Tobias Jonathan Dales jr III. He thought he was the business, he had the houses, the cars, the trophy wife and enough after hours special attention to make a pop star jealous. Yes he is the rising prince of the company and in a few years due to be king of Steel-Wade Smith Merchants the third biggest of its kind. He was a impressive really, soon 46 years and already a senior vice chairman, but it had cost him so much, he wouldn’t allow his wife the children that she had wanted (even had a painful op to make sure, but keeped it to himself and blamed her followed by the odd slap) and generally it had turned him into a self obsessed pillock without manners or concern for anyone else Strolling into his department was always a good part of the day for him.

“Morning, sir” said no.2 (had numbered his secretaries he didn’t like them and often would let them know has such)
“Shut your silly looking mouth and get me my coffee, then get back to work you ugly shrek extra” was his only reply which he gave with such relish he would make a personnel note of that put down, it amused him.

Tobias rounded the corner only to be greeted by his Personnel Assistant Richard Andrews, they both hated each other, and Tobias had been trying really hard for some while to get him fired or even moved on, it was so far proving to be very hard to get rid.

Richard was a different type of guy completely, he was famed for his niceness, in fact, never had a bad word for anyone, even had time to send the cards and donate to the office appeal to get the gifts, always personally felt moral was far more important than making himself look good. Oh yes Tobias really hated him, he was however very good at his job which meant he would only have to sign 3 pieces of paper and have a 4 hour company provided lunch break, life was good. And today was going to be very good has he would be receiving a new play thing secretary, he had conducted the prelim interviews and there had been just one who had stood out, she was half his age, blond with electric innocent blue eyes a filly for his amusement, oh life was good.

“So young Mr.Andrews has my secretary turned her rather splendid arse up yet” sneered Tobias, “She will arriving has told in approximately 30 minutes, i will be required to spend a hour briefing Miss Smith on company issues and policy with special…..”,“ shut up you stupid fool delay her has you must but by 1130 we SHALL be going to lunch, remember to book at the club, i shall personally brief her on my expectations, now give me the papers i require to sign, go tell No.2 to hurry with my coffee and do not disturb my working, chop chop”
barked Tobias (he loved to interrupting Richard who was a lot bigger physically than him gave him an extra mental inch or too) before turning and entering a separate office area for his secretary then onto his office, door was always slammed.

Tobias tossed the papers to the marble desk and carried on to the far side by the window, he stood there surveying the pathetic ants that scurried to there pathetic tasks, so unclean he thought to himself, turned and sat at his desk. The marble desk was huge could lay at least 4 people over it and still see the edges, but what was this a finger mark on his desk the cleaner would be feeling his wrathe for this. Then there was a knock on the double doors, he almost jumped with anticipation, “come in, come in Miss Smith”, the door pushed open “erm, sorry sir it is only Paula with the coffee”,Tobias was not happy anymore “well get it in here”. Paula crossed the office placing the coffee on the table and moved back. Quickly and very obviously Tobias lifted the cup and placed it squarely on the designer coaster then said in his normal sinister tone “i wished to speak to you any way Miss Towns, your interview to be my secretary was very good, you are 10 times qualified”,“thank you sir”,he took a small sip from his drink then continued “never interrupted me you stupid girl, you were unsuccessful due to your dismal appearance it offends my eyes and has for that cheap market perfume, well my cats litter tray is less offensive”. A slight pause another sip he then continued “Your coffee making abilities are one of your few redeeming features now if you feel you have to consider your current position with this company by all means, but we both now that the benefits and above average pay is a fair price for such a ugly women has you, so piss off and try not crack any of my mirrors on the way out”. Paula stood for a split second with pure hate in her heart “you are a little tosser and i will be only staying so i will one day see you grovel you ….”, loudly interrupted “Miss Towns i do not tolerate such talk from anyone, least of all a bag lady would be so i think you should clear your desk and remove yourself, unless you would like me to do so, NOW has i said trot on piggie” he stood up quickly, fingered the intercom “Andrews, please come in here”.

Richard entered and instantly read the situation, “Paula, please wait outside”, the broken Paula walked out of the office, “sir”,“that thing is fired, she will be gone at the close of the day…..she was too flirtatious and did not except the knock back reference her failed premonition with the spirit i expected” said Tobias, “But sir she is one of the best and is very popular with the girls” explained Richard. Tobias glared up from his desk,“in life decisions are made by leaders, they aren’t always popular, but i have made my decision which is not your position to question, are we very clear” their was a brief pause each sending a stare of hate “follow my orders,oh, and inform the evening cleaner that if my office is not correctly cleared she will also be finding a new job”. Richard left the office, finding Miss Smith comforting Paula, “i don’t mean to interrupt ,but could you and all your colleges please come into my office i have a brief for you all, please”.

The entire pool and lastly Miss Smith entered into Richards office. About 30minutes later the laughing and smiling group left the office and got back on with there work, even Paula seemed rather pleased!

At 1115 Tobias`s door was again knocked, Miss Smith opened the door and presented herself, “morning sir, you have instruction for me”, Tobias was upset with the entry but knew she would learn. The lady before him was stunning, a young princess of a lady who seemed somewhat familiar, the eyes so young so very beautiful, this play toy would make him very happy. “yes, yes, but let us go for a chat over lunch at a little club i know”, Tobias quickly signed the papers then stood up, instantly thought must stop her wearing heels has she was 4“ taller, but then again those calfs so elegant.

Tobias and Miss Smith left the department via the private lift down to the under ground car park and straight into a Limosine waiting and ready to roll.

The driver was cut off from them instantly, then the charm offensive was used, it was like a different man, the small talk and banter continued all the way to the Club Etiquette. “Hello Mr.Dale your favorite table is already please come through, sir” said by the slightly crawly matree dee with a sickly bow.
Tobias liked his table it was in a secluded area that he took all his toys, he instantly ordered for the both of them, making sure a liberal amount of posh potent wine was ordered, he found a bit of dutch courage never hurt in order to clench the deal. Small talk continued through out the starters and right up too the desert.

“Mr Dale i am not stupid, i am not qualified in any type of typing or secretarial work, i believe we both fully understand that, i assume my position is one of a personel nature, which i do not have a issue with but i expect you to have discretion” Miss Smith softly but firmly said. Tobias nearly choked on a ice cube from his scotch “well, i am in need of a secretary per say it goes with the job, but yes i in all fairness i… well you do…. ok i knew you had an attraction to me and i think you would improve my image in certain areas and if you have no issues with use having extra relations, well that would be mutually of benefit so to speak” he excitedly somewhat nervously and very queitly said. In a breif second he had realised he was truly blessed, the dream was about to come true a tart that under stood her place and accepted it.

The desert was a rushed affair and coffee was a not even throught of, this prize was going to be unwrapped has soon has possible, he had longed for it, hell he deserved it and he would be saviouring it very soon.
The drive back was again made instantly private, but this time full of innuendo and bravado boasting of past conquest, also how the company was his play ground, even included the firing of his last secretary due to his wife finding a lip stick mark on his bottom. He informed her discretion was always key, he had had to pay for therapy which he admitted had worked really well, he forgot to mention the regular beating he had issued out due to her making him look else where.

Within no time they was in the lift, up to the office and into his massive private lounge with has he informed her a rather splendid ensuite bathroom that had been the pools rest room before he saw fit to have it converted. Tobias went straight to the drinks cabinet and poured two very full glass`s of vintage scotch then went and sat on the overly big sofa with the already sat Miss Smith.

“Thank you Mr Dale may i just pop out and collect my bag from my desk” soft and seductively she said “why” somewhat a bit sharply.“

“Well i presume we are going to envelope on are relationship in the near future and a lady likes to be a bit fresher if you get my drift” very seductively explained. “oh yes yes of course, erm carry on” bit more sheepishly.

Miss Smith sprang up with a cheeky spin followed by a graceful hop all the way out of the lounge, how had he been so dam lucky this was better than any scenario he had ever played out, whilst contemplating this thought the intercom buzzer sounded, a rage of annoyance instantly replaced that happy thought. He moved to the intercom “this better be good, very good you little shit” he bawled into the intercom. “Yes sir, whilst you were at lunch new urgent paper work came directly from Mr Steel-Wade it needs your checking and signature” . This was just what he didn’t need, Miss Smith then again entered the lounge, “look Miss Smith i have some work to check and sign, so please stay i will be a hour or so” he informed her, “oh, ok, but i thought that fool Andrews checked the papers, could you not just sign whilst i get sorted in the bathroom….. then we could get on with that new relationship if you know what i mean” it was in the most seductive tone Tobias had ever heard, “ok i will see be back in 5 minutes, my sweet” he replied.

He re situated himself in his office were the paper work lay, pushed the intercom “Andrews have you checked every detail of this paper work” he urgently inquired, “of course, it is reference…..” “i don’t care you idiot, you can brief me tomorrow all the copies will be signed, come collect them in 10 minutes and make sure absolutely no one disturbs me again today” very annoyably.

He quickly signed each then performed a slight jog to get to his office, Miss Smith was still in the bath room, he downed his scotch and quickly poured a fresh one while undressing some what clumsily. The door to the bathroom slightly opened and a slender leg with suspenders and a black with silver high heel was exposed. Tobias instantly imagined if the leg was any thing to go by he would be romancing a goddess in a very short period, this made his boxers suddenly less roomy. “oh, Mr Dale i am going to treat you like you have never been before” she matter of factly informed him has she fully presented herself in the light from the bathroom.

She glided toward the trying to stand Tobias, stopping just short, from behind her back she revealed a pair of police style handcuffs, “i found these in the bathroom, throught i could use them on you whilst i use you then you wont be able to hurt me….. YOU being such a strong man” sweetly explained with a slight glint in her eyes. She was a goddess, by far the most sexy women he had ever seen, never mind had the chance to play with, he held his hand together in front of himself, “oh, no hands behind it will give you lift” quickly corrected. He turned round and put his hands behind himself, click click, she then floated around his shoulders until she was face to face then placed her lips next to his hear and whispered “it all changes today….”, in the same split second of confusion a ball shattering knee to the testicles was received. Pain, confusion and pure untold fear shot through ever cell of his body, “YOU PATHETIC JOKE FOR A HUMAN, TODAY YOU WILL BEGIN TO PAY FOR ALL YOUR SINS” she loudly informed him, quickly followed by another sharp kick to stomach. “now you just lay there whilst i go collect my other toys from the bath room, bitch, and please try to think of all the horrible things you have done has i know everything about you” this was sinisterly delivered followed by another swift kick. She then turned slowly giggling to herself and marched off to the bathroom.

Tobias was in a complete state of shock what, how, it was a nightmare of pain and where had it come from, he knew on one thing for sure he must get help, but how, ha the intercom. He still in unbelievable amounts of pain got to his knees, his genitals like a bag of hot coals roared with pain, tears were all ready trickling down his face, he managed to get to his feet still doubled over , he stumbled to the intercom button, just managing to bounce his head off the switch followed by “Andrews quick help…”. Tobias was suddenly pulled by his hair, thrown across the room , “now your going to get fucked you slag, help will be here in a moment and your only bitch will be the lesbian that uses you in jail” he yelled at the devil that towered over him.

She lowered her face near to his tear stained face “really”, at the same moment Richard burst in to the scene, “what the hell is going on here” he oddly inquired. Tobias smuggly but still struggling from the pain said “what`s it look like you arse hole, she forced me in here took my clothes then went mental, kicking me and hitting me, get the police so the bitch can rot in jail, your fucked slag”, Miss Smith then spoke softly “hi, hun, i was just educating this slime ball…… you now trying to get him to use some manners, come here you stud” with the flash of foot again kicked him in the balls while reaching for Richards tie pulling him close and kissing him passionately.

Richard looked down at the fool and tutted ” you had no idea, you stupid (quick glance at his semi exposed privates) little man, you will truly regret today“ he then punch Tobias in the side of the head. Pain was at the forefront of his entire being at this point, but the situation was even more agonizing, they know each other, the unanswered questions all flooding into his head it was almost has painful has the punch.

The pair hugged and kissed passionately with each other moving to the sofa, Tobias was semi conscious but could see Richard being undressed, the sounds of passion were all that could be heard, except perhaps Tobias quiet whimpers. By the time they got to the couch Richard was exposed full bar his briefs, Miss Smith then spoke with pure venom, “hey you piece of shit get on your knee and face me and this real man”, Tobias didn’t move, “if i have to come over there, your balls will be getting stamped on with this heel ”, the silver heel was waved at him off the once elegant black suspended foot. Tobias with all his remaining strength did has ordered, “at last he may be getting it” she said sweetly, she then got up and walked slowly over to Tobias, circling him a few times, stopping next to him. “Okay you jerk lets see what you have….get into a begging position like a dog” she then roughly pulled him up on his knee, whilst pushing his pants down to the bend in his knees, the pair started to tittered.

“Richard come over here and see this”, Richard stood up and walked up right in front of Tobias, saying nothing his expression said it all, “well Richard please do him a favor and show him a real cock….after he has never really seen one”, Richard paused for a second.

“Please Richard it makes me hot, very hot” she play fully teased, “sure babe”, he pulled his breifs down to his ankles and picked them up, “babe pass me them pants”. She then continued to wipe the inside of the pants all over Tobias`s face, focusing on his nose and mouth, Tobias was terrified this was the worst place or things that he could ever imagine. “Got to get all these girly tears cleaned up” this was spoken in a matter of fact tone.

The pants were then placed right over his head and lift to dangle around his neck, she then glided over to couch and laid down full length, “this Toad is how it will go, i will tell you to do some things and you will hop too it so to speak (a girly giggle), if you fail to follow my order, delay or do such order not to my satisfaction, well lets say your lovely wife will need to divorce a fellow female” she softly informed him. “Do you fully understand, bitch”, Tobias was numb he didn’t know what to say, that was all changed, when Richard delivered a long sweeping slap too Tobias`s face, “i would learn to answer when young Lady Steele-Wade Smith speaks to you” informed Richard. “Oh did i not mention i am Mr Steele-Wade Smiths little princess and our little conversation at lunch, in the limo etc is on this tape in my bag” a sweet tone was used “my family don’t like people who abuse there position, and oh what was it, oh yes use work has your playground, daddy would have your balls but if you do has your ordered, only i will use your balls, oh and maybe a few friends ” a final tone of utter victory.

“Today was the last day you ever had the chance to do the right thing you piss stain and from this day your my bitch, my little toy to use abuse and always remember to address me has Lady you little shit”

Cockold Mistress

I arrived at the appointed time, rang the doorbell, and waited for Mistress to let me. I was more nervous than usual because today was to be special. Today, Mistress would be playing a most unusual role; today, Mistress would be my wife.

When Mistress answered the door, she was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. It was what I might have expected from my wife on a sunny fall afternoon. She smiled at me knowingly and said, “Hi, honey. You’re home from work early. Are you excited about tonight?”
“Oh yes, dear,” I responded. I’m not sure that my voice had the right enthusiasm. I was nervous as hell and I wanted to get this right. I was there for “my wife’s” pleasure, not mine.
“Come on then,” she said turning toward the stair, “I’m going to need your help getting ready.” We walked downstairs to her “dressing room” and I left her tribute on the side table as she locked the door behind us.
“You are such a sweet hubby,” she intoned as she smiled at me. The smile was just a little wicked and told me that her comment was not one of respect. “I love that you like to help me get ready to go out. It’s so much more fun when you help me choose my clothes and pamper me before a big night of partying.” I was warming a little at the enthusiasm in her voice. I knew that my wife did truly love this part and it made me want to please her even more. “Do you love me, sweetie?”

“Oh god yes I love you. You are the best,” I responded. It felt genuine. It hadn’t taken long for me to fall in line and accept Mistress in her role as my wife. “I so much want you to be happy. It always makes me feel good to share your joy and pleasure.”
“I love you too, sweetie. And tonight I’m going to show you just how much. I am going to give you everything you want and then some.” I smiled guiltily. I knew what she meant and I knew what was coming next.
“You know you are a really special husband.” Her words made me blush. “There are so few guys who would do for their wives what you do for me. And you not only do it but you enjoy it.” At her own words, she laughs. “You take such good care of me and I love you for it. I also love to hear you say it. Tell me what you’re going to do for me tonight. Please?” She wasn’t begging; it was a tease.
“Well I’m going to help you get ready to go out tonight.”
“Oh you can do better than that. Tell me what we’re going to do tonight.”
I gulp slightly. In most of our years of marriage, she had treated this part of our relationship as something personal and private. I knew what she had been doing but it was unspoken. Recently, though, my “wife” had gotten bolder and now I was expected to be an active participant. I swallowed hard, but my words came out as barely more than a whisper, “I’m going to help you get ready so that you can go out and fuck your boyfriend.” Her laughter made me feel two feet tall. She knew she had me. “That’s right,” she said. I was glowing bright red. “I’m going to go out with a man who can do what you can’t. Think about it, sweetie. I love you but that little cock is useless to me. But you manage to take care of me anyway, don’t you?”

I knew she was right. There was barely enough cock to put into her and when I just kept popping out she had decided it just wasn’t worth the trouble. She was okay with me using my fingers and my tongue to get her off but she needed more. So I didn’t resist when she started dating other men. The way things evolved just seemed natural. I smiled weakly and said, “Yes ma’am I will always take care of you. That includes helping you get the kind of sex you need and want.”
Her laughter spoke volumes. She loved me but she knew I was hers to use. “So what does that make you, sweetie?”
“That makes me a wimp and a sissy and a cuckold,” I choked out. I knew it but it was still hard to say.
“Whose wimp are you?”
“I’m your wimp, ma’am. I’m yours to use anyway you want to. I’ll do whatever you want to make you happy. What would you like me to do you for you now?”
“Well for starters, you can get out of those clothes. Those are a man’s clothes. You’re not a man are you?
“No, I’m not a man” my reply was tinged with shame.
“Prove it,” she chuckled.
I took off my shirt and lay in on the settee and then kicked off my shoes. Looking at my feet, she asked, “Now what are those?”
I wasn’t wearing socks and the feet of my panty hose shown below the hem of my jeans. “Those are panty hose,” I admitted.
“Oh you are my sissy boy aren’t you?” she giggled, “Okay, off with the pants.”
I unbuckled the belt and let my jeans drop to the floor. Kicking them aside I stood there in just the panty hose, my panty hose, as she stared at my crotch.
“Good sissy, I see you haven’t tampered with my property.” She was looking at the locked cage on my cock. “It’s so small and useless I wouldn’t want you wasting any time playing with it.” Even as she said this I felt myself shrivel inside the device. Jerking off was the only way I might satisfy myself but she figured my time was better spent focused on her. “Now why don’t you help me get ready for my date?” “Yes, ma’am,” was all I could muster.
“Help me out of these clothes,” she instructed as she started to pull the sweatshirt over her head. Standing behind her I took the sides and pulled upward as she let it slide off her body. Pulling her arms out, I took it and set it on the table. With little make-up and an everyday plain white bra holding her ample breasts, Mistress was the spitting image of my wife. The illusion was complete. “Fold it properly,” she instructed, and I proceed to make a neat package of the garment. “Now the jeans.”
I fumbled to unbutton and unzipped the tight jeans. “Don’t get too excited and don’t touch,” she stated firmly, “there’s nothing there for you, sissy.” Carefully, I hooked a couple of belt loops and started to slide the jeans down her legs. Sitting down on a side chair she lifted her legs. “Remove them,” my “wife” demanded. Kneeling, I slipped off the sandals she was wearing and pulled the jeans off her legs. Not needing to be told a second time, I carefully creased and folded them and set them with the sweatshirt.
Wearing only the plain bra and a mismatched pair of bikini briefs, the vision of my wife sat there and raised one foot. “Massage it,” she commanded. Kneeling again in front of her, I took her foot and began to message her lovely appendage. When she switched feet so that I could message the other she saw me take an extra breath. I was intoxicated by her aroma. The fragrance of her feet was mixed with her bodily smells of sweat and sex. I am sure she had been masturbating before I arrived. “You like that don’t you? Get your nose in there and smell them.” I put my face to the sole of her left foot and breathed in deeply. She giggled.
“It certainly doesn’t take much to make you happy does it?” She was right, I was in heaven.
“No ma’am,” I replied between deep breaths that pulled her scent into my nostrils.
“Clean them.” I looked at her confused; there was nothing to wash with close by. “With your tongue, silly wimp,” she laughed again. Her amusement was contagious and I was pathetic; I gave her a silly grin and began to run my tongue over her bare foot. “Suck my toes clean, too!” One by one, I took her toes into my mouth and swirled my tongue around each of them. When I was done with that foot, I repeated the procedure on her right foot. As I sucked on her big toe, she shocked me with her comment. “You are very good at that sissy boy, I bet you would like to suck a cock, wouldn’t you? I didn’t and I shook my head no.
“Oh come on. I do it all the time. Just not yours. Suck on my big toe like it’s a hard cock.” I was about to resist when she followed up with an imperial, “Do it!” Putting her toe back in my mouth, I gently move my tongue around. “No, no.” she implored, “do what I do. Give that cock nice long strokes in and out.” I began to bob my head up and done on her foot moving from the tip to the base with my lips, sucking hard as I moved up the shaft of her toe. Laughing again, she chortled, “Good sissy, good girl, that’s the way to do it. You’ll be ready when I bring you the real thing. Tell me you want it!”
I was about to say no but thought twice about it. I’m a sissy and this is what my wife says wants me to do. So I complied, “Yes, I want it.” “Oh, you can do better than that. Tell me in all the detail what you want and what you are going to do. And I want to hear lots of enthusiasm.” She had one hand resting on her breast and with the other she was tracing small circles on the front mound of her panties. I wanted to panic and reject the images in my head, but clearly this was turning her on and I didn’t want to deny her.
Slowly at first, I told her, “I want you to bring me a guy with a big cock to suck.” She smiled as I paused to consider the words I had just spoken. I may have thought about what it would be like to suck another man’s cock but I had never uttered those words out loud before. “I want him hard and wet from fucking you.” I not much of a man I remember; so what the hell.
“Yesssss!” She hissed. Her hand was moving faster.
“His cock will be a lot larger than mine and he’ll stretch my lips as I suck up and down on the shaft with the head completely in my mouth.” It wasn’t something I wanted to happen but my little cock was swelling and making the cage bob. She notice and giggled.
“Well that certainly turns you on! Tell me what he does.”
“He puts his hands on my head and begins to fuck my face. He’s too big so I put my hand around his shaft to make him feel good. I know that you will like to watch me jerk him off and it will keep him from trying to put his monster down my throat.” “Good girl. You learn quickly. Don’t you just love sucking cock? Tell me you do.”
“Ummmm,” I moan. In my head I’m getting into it. I take her foot and hold it like his cock and begin to make vigorous sucking and pumping motions. Pausing, I managed to say, “Yes, I love it. I love sucking cock. I want to feel him cum in my mouth.” I go back to my sucking. In my hand I feel her foot go rigid and she pushes it into my mouth, hard.
“Suck it. He’s cumming in your mouth. Moan like a horny sissy slut.” I moan in earnest. I am lost in the mixture of humiliation and hedonistic pleasure. Pleased with my performance, she pulls her foot out of my mouth.
“God you’ve made me hot. I need to get fucked so badly,” my “wife” says. She is my wife. Any pretext of role playing is gone. “Sit there and help me decide what to wear.”
My wife gets up from the chair. She is strikingly beautiful even in her boring everyday underwear. She walks over to the table and picks up a lingerie set. It’s black and lacy, a low-cut bra that would barely contain her, with a matching garter belt. She has a red thong and the stock tops are tinged with red as well. “Don’t you wish I would wear something like this for you?”
I know the right answer. “Oh, no! That’s too good for me. You should wear it for your dates. It will get them really turned on. It turns me on just thinking about it and but I would be a waste of your time.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you are right. Seeing your little thing get hard would just make me laugh. This outfit is for getting the big dogs panting. Too bad for you, sissy boy. But let’s look at some other choices and you can choose for me I want something to make my guys really hard before I suck cock.”
She proceeds to hold up several alternatives, including a 50’s style foundation garment. The bra and girdle and bottom are all one piece and there are hooks on the back for closure and hooks on the crotch for access. Nylon stocking tabs dangle from the bottom. Oh god, I want to see her in that and she knows it. My dicklette is throbbing again. In the end, I choose the black lace with the red thong. “Why didn’t you choose the fetish wear?” she asks. She calls it that because no woman in their right mind would wear that stuff today except for its effect on poor pathetic wimps like me. I would wear it. She knows that too. Once I conceded to her that it turned me when she fucks other men, everything unraveled. I had to tell her about my cock cage and ball stretcher and show her my own collection of lingerie. Now she was using my kinks to control me. She was most amused to discover that her infidelity was my biggest thrill.
I was into her preparation now. “I want you to wear something that will really turn your date on,” I encouraged. “You need something to get the juices of a real man flowing. You want to make him hard and hungry. That lace outfit will do the trick.”
She smiles at me. “Good answer! You do love me don’t you?”
“Yes dear, I do love you. I love you more everyday. And tonight I want you to get the fucking of a lifetime.”
“Oh I expect to,” she says calmly, “You will love this. I’m going out with two studs tonight. Think about it sissy. I get two and you get none.” Then she added, “Well, it won’t actually be nothing for you. My pussy will be twice as full when you’re down there with your tongue later on tonight.” She gives another one of her cruel laughs and says, “I bet you wait up for me! You’ll be so horny but you won’t be able to do anything about it until I get home. As your reward, I’m going to tell you all the juicy details … while you go down on me and clean me out.”
My heart is pounding. After letting me imagine all those secret liaisons, she is finally letting me on the details. I should be mortified. A normal man would have left her years ago. But I’m not a normal man. I’m a wimp and a cuckold. Her wimp. And it turns me on to think of her fucking and sucking handsome guys with big cocks. I take my satisfaction in knowing that she still comes home to me.
But we aren’t done yet.
“Turn around,” she says, “and put your hands behind your back.” Doing what she says, I feel the cuffs being placed on my wrists. “I don’t want you getting any ideas. And don’t turn around or you will be punished beyond your imagination. This would be something new for my wife; she was never into to discipline despite my efforts to encourage it. But I know the woman standing behind me is capable of intense cruelty. I am not going to tempt fate.
I hear the rustling of clothing behind me. I imagine that she has removed her day underwear and she is naked. It has been so long since I have seen her completely naked but as much as I want to I don’t dare look. Behind me she says, “Say ahhhh.” Doing as I’m told she reaches around and shoves something in my mouth. I realize immediately from the taste and smell that she is gagging me with her panties. It’s just one more humiliation. She knows that the more she torments me the more I want it. I feel a leather strap being added to hold the wad of cloth in place. I’m sure I feel a naked breast against my back as the strap is cinched tight. She says she’s tired of listening to my pathetic whining talk. She’ll do the talking from now on. “Do not turn around,” she commands. I obey.
I can hear more rustling and shifting. She is certainly taking her time. When she tells me I can look, I turn and see her standing there. She has on the black outfit with the red thong. The stockings attached to her belt make her legs look like a million dollars. She has put on her trademark red lipstick; a color that says fuck my mouth … if you dare. Only a real man would take that bet; she can cut the rest of us down to size with a simple glance. Her hair has been brushed and the fuck-me pumps nearly complete the outfit. All she needs is the dress. But she’s in no hurry. We have time before her date arrives. My wife is happy to use the time to play with me.
“Let’s see that pathetic dick of yours. Take off you pantyhose.” My hands are still cuffed behind my back and she laughs hysterically at the dance I do trying to get them down and off. I grunt and moan through the panty gag. And that makes her laugh harder. The exertion makes me salivate and that makes the panties even wetter. I can taste her in my mouth. Now I am sure she has masturbated before I got “home.” She wants me to know exactly what I am going to be missing. Silently, I thank her. I am pathetic.
With the pantyhose gone, she reaches for the combination lock that holds the cage pin in place. Turning it to 0-0-0 it opens for her. She removes the cage and the pin but leaves the cock ring in place. I know that this is only a temporary reprieve. “Look at that thing,” she says, “I marry a great guy who is smart and takes care of me, but he’s got nothing useful between his legs. You know that don’t you!” Her tone is demanding of an answer and I nod my gagged head to offer a sad yes. “You know that’s why I have to fuck other men, don’t you?” For awhile, she went through a period of feeling guilty, but that didn’t stop her from needing it, or getting it. Now that she knows I’m her willing cuckold, she wants my affirmation to assuage her guilt. This time I nod my head more vigorously. I want her to be happy; I don’t want her to feel guilty. “I fuck them to help you; isn’t that right?” I try my best to smile with the gag in my mouth and make an, “uh-huh,” sound. “You want me to do it, don’t you?” Another “uh-huh.”
“You know what else I have to do, don’t you?” Again, I know what’s coming. “Nod your head if you understand.” I nod. “You want this don’t you? I nod. “I wouldn’t need to fuck other guys if you had a real cock. You’re a great guy and I love you but your cock is useless.” She gives it a swat with her open hand and the sting resonates through my body. My “uh-huh” has a little higher pitch this time. “Your cock is the problem and we need to punish it. You understand that don’t you?” Again I nod my head. I hate my little cock. I want her to punish it. Then I hear her chuckle again. “I’m going to enjoy this.” I think torturing my dick gets her even hotter for her date. It certainly lets her take out her frustration with my inability to service her properly. She goes to work with her CBT tricks, squeezing my balls and whipping my cock. For the next half hour clothes pins and vibrators alternate with whips and ice and lotions. The taste of her panties turns me on and makes me hard for her treatment. Those same panties muffle my screams when the torture becomes too much. At some point she puts ear buds in my ears and blindfolds me. I am listening to gothic organ music drown out my thoughts in the medieval dark. I have no idea what is coming next. She never fails to surprise me. She wants me to know that it’s all the fault of my cock. If I had been a real man, she wouldn’t need to go elsewhere for an orgasm. She’s not punishing it … we are. I want her to do this as much as she enjoys doing it.
Occasionally the pleasure of the pain brings me close to my own orgasm, but she always stops short. I don’t give her orgasms with my cock, why should she give my cock any she figures. We agree that what makes her happy is my encouragement to fuck other men. The more my cock suffers the less useful it is. Punishing it before she goes out seems to help justify her dating for both of us. When she’s done I don’t feel like I want to fuck anyone or anything. My own hand isn’t appealing. She’s horny, I’m useless; we both know she needs a real man now. But she’s just getting warmed up for the night. This is a big turn-on for her. She’s ready for hands on her breasts and deep tongue kisses. She wants to suck a cock … a couple of cocks … and fuck until the orgasms won’t stop. Tonight she tells me, pulling an ear bud from one ear, she’ll have a cock in her pussy and another in her mouth. Thinking about it makes her hot and she punishes my useless dick with gusto. I feel ice against my cock and balls. I shrivel up into my usual nothingness. She takes off the blindfold and removes the ear buds. Picking up the pin and cage from the table she reassembles it around my limp dick. Holding the lock she turns the hasp around and pushes down. Then she spins the dials for the combination. This is the reset position. She doesn’t bother to look at it; she just hooks it through the pin, locks it in place, and gives the dials another spin. I was on the honor system when I came “home” with the 0-0-0 setting but now I have no idea what the combination is. Neither does she. She chuckles at the startled look on my face.
“You don’t need it anyway,” she’s smirking again. My eyes readjust to the light. Damn, she’s beautiful. And in that underwear, she is eroticism personified. “How would you feel about having it removed?” she asks looking at my crotch. “Get rid of some hair, well a lot of hair, put you on hormones, and we could make a passable woman out of you. You are more like a sister or a girlfriend than a husband anyway.” Outwardly, I am horrified. But inwardly there is a certain appeal. Right now, battered and caged, I don’t feel any masculinity down there. “Instead of being a woman with a sissy boy husband, we could be a couple of sexy girls out picking up guys.” She has removed the leather strap and pulled the damp panties out of my mouth. “Do you like that idea? Tell me how much you want it.”
She is pulling on the sexiest leather dress over her naughty lace undies. I should be turned on but instead my emotion is jealousy. And not jealousy of the guys who will fuck her tonight; I’m jealous because I want to be in her shoes. Lost in my thoughts, I blurt out, “Oh god yes that would be wonderful. I want to be a woman just like you.”
Her laughter is genuine now. She is thoroughly amused. She has extracted the ultimate confession.
She steps out of character and is again my Mistress. “Get dressed sissy boy. I can see why your wife likes to fuck other men, but she must really love you to keep coming home. She doesn’t want a girlfriend, she wants a husband. You better take good care of her, not get jealous if she does fuck other guys, and be thankful for whatever she gives you.” Picking up the panties off the settee, she hands them back to me. “Here’s a present for you, put these back in your mouth and don’t take them out until you get home.” I wad them up and force all the material back into my mouth. They are cold and damp now, but they are still rich with her scent.
“Good luck with that cage. If you don’t get it off before your wife gets home, your wishes may just come true. As for the panties, I have worn those during the day for the last couple of days. I’m sure that they are full of my juices, some piss, and my boyfriend’s cum. Knock yourself out.” She’s still laughing as the door closes behind me. If she reads this she’ll know I sucked on those panties all the way home. I knew I was tasting Mistress, but in my mind the juice and piss and cum were those of my well-fucked wife.

The Baroness

knew that I was in for a rough time as soon as her hulking bodyguard slugged me into unconsciousness outside the embassy gate after she had me ejected for snooping around. I had almost discovered the secret of her arms dealing apparatus , and then she had turned the tables on me……………….Baroness Fontaine now had me in her grasp.

I was hauled to her penthouse, where I was stripped , tied to a chair, and had electrodes attached to my penis and testicles. as I awaited my fate, the Baroness strutted coolly into the room.her bodyguard placed a plush love seat in front of me and she regally sat down. she was attired in a gold lame robe and matching turban. her tanned, sexy body was practically on display, as the robe was loosely tied. on the table next to her was her cigarette case, a gold cigarette holder, and an ornate crystal ashtray. there was also a switch box that was attached to the electrodes on my groin. her bodyguard produced a lighter upon seeing that she was placing a thin brown cigarette into the holder. she exhaled a thin stream of scented smoke into my face, and her bodyguard slammed his fist into my face. the Baroness chuckled lightly at my pain, and asked me what I was doing at the embassy. I instinctively kept my mouth shut, as I had been trained to do in the event of torture. she peered into my eyes, trying to gage my tolerance for pain. she told me how interesting the testicles were, that they were the cause of the greatest pleasure. she inhaled and blew more smoke into my face, telling me that they were also the source of the greatest pain. she then pressed the button on the switch box at her side with the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder. waves of untold agony surged through my body, accompanied by the Baroness’ evil chuckling. she instructed her bodyguard to bring her a glass of champagne, as it seemed like she and I were in for a long, nasty session. three hours later, when I was pitifully sobbing over my devastated testicles and begging her to kill me , I agreed .the Baroness then instructed her bodyguard to draw her bath, as she was going upstairs to sexually enjoy her girlfriend and would be back down in about five hours to continue my destruction. as the hulking bodyguard left, she stood and slowly ground out her cigarette on my tortured penis. I merely accepted this additional pain as part and parcel of what remained of my pitiful life. the Baroness was now my Deity, having the power to decide on a whim the moment of my merciful demise. I could hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she strutted away…….

Mr. Johnstone secretary

Sitting alone in his darkened office, his large desk only lit by a small lamp and the glow from his monitor, Mr. Johnson dutifully signed yet another document. Placing it on the small stack in his out box and pulling another from much larger stack from his in box. He couldn’t wait to finish the seemingly endless stack of paperwork before him. He knew his wife would be waiting for him at home. She had winked at him as she kissed him goodbye this morning and told him tonight would be special. It seemed as though it had been forever since… Clack, clack, clack. The echoing sound of heels on the hard floor of the hallway were a common one to Mr. Johnson, but not this late at night. His thoughts about home now faded with the distraction. Soon the clacking had entered the room and approached his desk. “Alexandra, it’s late. You should go home.” Mr. Johnson said without even bothering to raise his head.

“I would, but I’m afraid that there is work here that needs to be done before I leave for the night.” Ms. Alexandra said in her usually soft demeanor.
“There’s nothing to be done here that can’t wait until tomorrow. Go home, get some sleep.”
As he raised his head he quickly noticed Ms. Alexandra was dressed rather strange. She was always a snappy dresser, very professional, but not tonight. Her short tight leather skirt barely covered the tops of her lace stockings, and her tight blouse barely concealed her black leather bra.

“I’m afraid this just can’t wait…” Her heels clacked on the floor as she walked around his desk and plopped herself into his lap.
“I’m flattered. I truly am, but I’m a married man.”
“I know.” she giggled.
“I have no intentions of sleeping with you.”
“Y-y-you don’t?” Mr. Johnson stuttered in confusion.
“No, I don’t. I know all about the belt your wife makes you wear.
All the girls know that bulge in your pants isn’t your manhood. Why do you think we’re always so giggly!” she taunted with a devious smile. Mr. Johnson’s face went pale as he heard her words and realized the repercussion of such rumors amongst the employees would undermine his authority. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” he quipped as he unsuccessfully tried to stand and push her out of his lap
“That’s funny, your wife does!” Alexandra’s words had struck a never as she pulled the key hanging from her necklace out of her blouse. “She told me all about your belt, how you can’t even get hard. *giggle* She also told me all about your little secretary fantasy too.” The soft coo of Alexandra’s words had caused Mr. Johnson to restlessly squirm in his chair beneath her. The fantasy she spoke of could only be one thing. But why would his wife share this with his secretary? His fantasy was the reason his wife had locked him in his cage in the first place…

“You remember don’t you? The one where your secretary would get under your desk. Slowly she would caress and fondle you while you’re on the phone to an important client. Soon those caresses and fondles would turn into kisses and licks, until finally she popped your raging hard cock into her mouth…” “We both know that isn’t going to happen though, don’t we.” she teased as she run a hand across his face. Mr. Johnson’s face had now become two shades darker than the pinkish red lipstick on her soft pouty lips. His cock raged harder against it’s tiny prison. He knew he should do something, say something, anything, but he couldn’t focus. His charm and quick wit had failed him, all he could think about was her. How her eyes were beautiful, her perfume sweet, and her soft voice drew him in. “We can still play a game though. You wanna be my secretary?” she said as she opened the drawer on his desk and removed the large dildo his wife had given him.

“She told me about this too!” Alexandra’s offer caused him a moment’s pause. He knew he couldn’t, he’d have to face all the women in the building in the office come Monday morning. The rumors about the belt would be bad enough. Knowing that every time they whispered and giggled that it was because … No, it was just to much

“I’ve never even seen that before. Now I better get home to my wife. She’ll be waiting for me.” He snorted as he went to get up. Alexandra hopped to her feet and watched as he headed for the door.
“Awww, that’s too bad. Perhaps another time…” Mr. Johnson paused with his hand on the door knob. He knew that tone in her voice all to well. He knew she hadn’t finished.
“Until then I’ll just have to keep the key your wife gave me. Don’t worry, she won’t really be disappointed. She figures it’ll be a few months before you succumb.”

He turned back to see her skirt on the floor. The dildo was now in her harness. A wicked grin had spread across her face, she knew she had won.

Sitting alone in his darkened office, his large desk only lit by a small lamp and the glow from his monitor, Mr. Johnson dutifully signed yet another document. Placing it on the small stack in his out box and pulling another from much larger stack from his in box. He couldn’t wait to finish the seemingly endless stack of paperwork before him. He knew his wife would be waiting for him at home. She had winked at him as she kissed him goodbye this morning and told him tonight would be special. It seemed as though it had been forever since… Clack, clack, clack. The echoing sound of heels on the hard floor of the hallway were a common one to Mr. Johnson, but not this late at night. His thoughts about home now faded with the distraction. Soon the clacking had entered the room and approached his desk. “Alexandra, it’s late. You should go home.” Mr. Johnson said without even bothering to raise his head.

“I would, but I’m afraid that there is work here that needs to be done before I leave for the night.” Ms. Alexandra said in her usually soft demeanor. “There’s nothing to be done here that can’t wait until tomorrow. Go home, get some sleep.” As he raised his head he quickly noticed Ms. Alexandra was dressed rather strange. She was always a snappy dresser, very professional, but not tonight. Her short tight leather skirt barely covered the tops of her lace stockings, and her tight blouse barely concealed her black leather bra.
“I’m afraid this just can’t wait…” Her heels clacked on the floor as she walked around his desk and plopped herself into his lap.
“I’m flattered. I truly am, but I’m a married man.” “I know.” she giggled. “I have no intentions of sleeping with you.” “Y-y-you don’t?” Mr. Johnson stuttered in confusion.
“No, I don’t. I know all about the belt your wife makes you wear. All the girls know that bulge in your pants isn’t your manhood. Why do you think we’re always so giggly!” she taunted with a devious smile.

Mr. Johnson’s face went pale as he heard her words and realized the repercussion of such rumors amongst the employees would undermine his authority.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he quipped as he unsuccessfully tried to stand and push her out of his lap. “That’s funny, your wife does!” Alexandra’s words had struck a never as she pulled the key hanging from her necklace out of her blouse. “She told me all about your belt, how you can’t even get hard. *giggle* She also told me all about your little secretary fantasy too.” The soft coo of Alexandra’s words had caused Mr. Johnson to restlessly squirm in his chair beneath her. The fantasy she spoke of could only be one thing. But why would his wife share this with his secretary? His fantasy was the reason his wife had locked him in his cage in the first place…

“You remember don’t you? The one where your secretary would get under your desk. Slowly she would caress and fondle you while you’re on the phone to an important client. Soon those caresses and fondles would turn into kisses and licks, until finally she popped your raging hard cock into her mouth…”
“We both know that isn’t going to happen though, don’t we.” she teased as she run a hand across his face.

Mr. Johnson’s face had now become two shades darker than the pinkish red lipstick on her soft pouty lips. His cock raged harder against it’s tiny prison. He knew he should do something, say something, anything, but he couldn’t focus. His charm and quick wit had failed him, all he could think about was her. How her eyes were beautiful, her perfume sweet, and her soft voice drew him in. “We can still play a game though. You wanna be my secretary?” she said as she opened the drawer on his desk and removed the large dildo his wife had given him. “She told me about this too!” Alexandra’s offer caused him a moment’s pause. He knew he couldn’t, he’d have to face all the women in the building in the office come Monday morning. The rumors about the belt would be bad enough. Knowing that every time they whispered and giggled that it was because … No, it was just to much.
“I’ve never even seen that before. Now I better get home to my wife. She’ll be waiting for me.” He snorted as he went to get up. Alexandra hopped to her feet and watched as he headed for the door.
“Awww, that’s too bad. Perhaps another time…” Mr. Johnson paused with his hand on the door knob. He knew that tone in her voice all to well. He knew she hadn’t finished. “Until then I’ll just have to keep the key your wife gave me. Don’t worry, she won’t really be disappointed. She figures it’ll be a few months before you succumb.”
He turned back to see her skirt on the floor. The dildo was now in her harness. A wicked grin had spread across her face, she knew she had won.
“Welcome home dear, I trust you got the key from your secretary?” Mrs. Johnson said with a smug grin as he walked through the door.

Story and Artwork Saucy © CollarNcuffs.com

Black Panties

“Uh…” her soft and almost inaudible gasp resonated through out the room. He couldn’t look back, he knew all to well the trouble he was in. She had returned from shopping early, and stood by the door in shock.

“What do you think your doing?” she asked in a baffled tone. His mind began racing for a suitable answer.

“Honey, I can explain.” he finally stammered out as he turned to face her. Dropping the shopping bags in her hands, the baffled face quickly turned to anger as she realized exactly what he had been doing. His cock bulged beneath her finest pair of black lace panties.

“No, don’t even try. Get my panties off now. … Now!” Pausing only for a brief moment he awkwardly complied. As he pulled them down, his man hood bobbed out, harder than she had seen it in ages.

“Hahaha, you pervert! You fucking pervert!” her anger had seemed to all but vanish in her laughter. Sighing a sigh of relief his cheeks still blushed…

“Wait till my lawyer hears of this. Hahaha, on second thought, you best put those back on, they’ll be all you have after I’m through with you!” Quickly he shrank as her almost gleeful threat set in.

Collecting her bags, she left the room and him behind.

Entering the living room he’s now dressed, a worried look across his face. She’s sitting side ways on the sofa, phone in hand.

“I know! I couldn’t believe it myself! Talk about ridiculous! Hahaha!” her laugh sends chills up his spine as he approaches. His ears straining to hear the imperceptible voice on the other end.

“Excuse me, I have to go. He’s here now. … Bye.” She bursts into giggles before she hangs up the receiver.

“Who was that?” he asks in a soft tone with little confidence.

“My lawyer.”

“Honey, please, don’t do this. I beg of you. I’ll…”

“You’ll what? You’ll do anything?” a glint of sadistic glee fills her eyes as she sits up, looking him in the eye.

“Y-yes, anything. Just please, don’t do this.” the words escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

Standing up, she slowly hikes up her skirt past her garters and removes her panties.

“You like them? Do they turn you on? Is it the soft lace, the fabric ridding up your ass as your cock bulges in the tight fabric?” she asks as she teasingly holds her wet panties by a finger. “or is it that they’re soaked in my sweet honey?” … “You said anything didn’t you. Put them on.” she tosses them at him.

Pausing he stares at her in disbelief.

“You said you’d do anything, now put them on.” her tone shifting from playful to demanding. Carefully, and cautiously he removes his clothing, still in disbelief. The deliciously wicked smile across her face growing with each piece he removes.

“Put them on, you know you want to.” she coos as she walks over to him.

“No, I don’t.” his words are doubtful.

“Hahaha, don’t lie. Yes you do, your hard little friend says you do.” She softly strokes his cock with her hand.

“No, no, no. Slowly, enjoy it.” her words slowing him as he slips them on. His cock dripping precum as he forces it down and into them.

“Mmmm, they do look rather sexy on you, my bitch.” Her playful smile fading away in favor of a wicked grin. “That’s right, that’s part of anything. Your my bitch, and your cock belongs to me now. You don’t cum with out my permission anymore. Understand?” Her hand now running over his bulge.

“Y-yes dear.” his voice as week as his knees.

Unbuttoning her skirt, and letting it fall to the floor she reclines back on the sofa and spreads her legs.

“Please me bitch and I just might let you cum tonight.”

“Hehehe, mysterious stains and panties out of order… Now I know, and now your mine…”

Story by Saucy © CollarNcuffs.com

MissBonnie’s cross

The room is dark, lit only by a few candles, obscure shadows fall upon the walls. A cross sits by the wall, a bed draped in purple near the other. The silhouette of a man and a women stand in the center of the room. Miss Bonnie kisses him on the neck, tasting him, tasting his apprehension. Slowly she runs her hands over his chest, up and down his body. Softly feeling him, caressing his body.

Grasping Johnny’s hair, MissBonnie pulls him across the room to her cross, pressing him against it, pressing her body against his. Slowly she kisses him on the lips as she holds him there. Breaking the kiss she takes his wrists in her hands and lifts them onto the cross. “Stay bitch!” Miss Bonnie’s command is firm and unwavering.
Moving away for the briefest of moments, MissBonnie reaches towards the nightstand and produces a long slender tube. “Rrrip” The distinctive sound of clingfilm emanates through the room as she meticulously wraps it over and under Johnny’s trembling arm. “Rrrip” another round his arm, “Rrrip” and another, tightly pinning it against the crosses wooden frame.

“Rrrip” Tearing the clingfilm free MissBonnie begins on his next arm. “Rrrip” With his arms bound securely to the cross, she places her foot between his legs, swiftly kicking them apart. Now staring into his eyes, her devious grin widens as she runs her finger up his chin, holding his lustful gaze into her eyes.
With the grace of a cat MissBonnie breaks her gaze, runs her free hand down his body and down his leg. “Rrrip” with a few wraps and a tear, Johnny’s leg is firmly bound. “Rrrip” with another few wraps and another tear, his other leg is secure. “Rrrip” … “Rrrip” again and again, now binding his torso to the cross. One last tear, and he’s helplessly bound and at her mercy.

“Hehehe” an evil giggle escapes her lips as she stands back and watches Johnny struggle against his bindings. A flex of an arm muscle, a twist and tug of a leg, another flexing muscle, Johnny’s resistance is futile.
“You know your not going to escape my clutches, don’t you. … Of course you do, yet you still try, I wonder why. You know thats what I love about you. You always try to resist, to resist me, yet I always win. We both know that deep down you desire to be mine.” Bonnie says with a wry tone in her voice as she walks back and forth in front of Johnny, teasing his eyes with her elegant and refined body. Stopping in her tracks, Miss Bonnie turns and looks at him, at his erect cock; “Awww, poor baby, you have a problem there don’t you? Hehehe.” Her sweetly diabolical tone betrays her real feelings.

Reclining in the chair opposite of her new found toy, MissBonnie spreads her legs. Looking onward at her toy’s hard and bobbing cock, she reaches into her thong, gently she begins caressing and fingering her wet sex. Taunting him with her gaze, with her moans of pleasure, teasing him with what he can’t have. Her moans become louder as her pace quickens.

Watching from across the room, Johnny longingly watches her every move. His cock yearning for Miss Bonnie’s touch. His sweaty muscles flexing against his plastic bonds. Begging her with his eyes, for a touch, a stroke, anything, but to no avail. “Aahhh, aahhh, aahhh!” As MissBonnie’s moans become louder, his cock aches harder, and harder for attention. With her final moan, his begging becomes null. Leaving her seat, she walks over to Johnny – her toy – hers alone. Taking his cock in hand, she slowly strokes it up and down as she watches his frustration build. Sensing he’s near the edge she releases his cock, and begins to run her finger over the head, collecting his precum. “Hehehe” MissBonnie’s laughter is delightfully evil. “You want to cum, don’t you? Hehehe.” running her finger over his lips she finishes; “It’s going to be a long night for you my toy. A long night.” …

Story by James © Art by Sardax © CollarNcuffs.com Sardax.com

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