babe
pixie xx
The Party, Ch. 4
A black slave sat on his lap, rolling her hips as she fucked herself with his cock. He was watching me over her shoulder. I knew how I must look: Mascara running down my cheeks with my tears, lipstick smeared, thick gobs of cum drying on my face and tits, some stranger’s cock buried in my ass and his hands on me.
I heard the businessman laugh. “That’s your Master, isn’t it?” he said and slid the hand that had been playing with my breasts down to my pussy. “Let’s give him a little show.” He spread my pussy lips with his fingers, then slid a finger inside me. I jumped and moaned as he brushed my clit. He shoved two fingers inside my pussy, then three, then four. When he pulled them out, I moaned again in protest. He replaced them with something long and hard — a dildo? — and began rubbing my clit.
I didn’t even protest when he began slowly fucking my ass, using the hand around my throat to lift me up and push me down. I watched Master watch my abuse, the burning in my ass adding fire to fingers rubbing me. When the businessman began whispering in my ear, telling me that only a true slut would get off on being treated like this, that clearly my Master didn’t use me roughly enough, that I was a worthless set of holes only fit to be used by strangers like him, I came, exploding on his hand. He shoved his fingers in my mouth and I obediently licked them clean.
When the man began to fuck my ass in earnest, I had already gone limp, far past protest, the pain constant but distant. Both his hands were on my neck, fucking me like a doll, lifting me so far that only the tip of his cock remained in my ass, then slamming me down to the very base. I have no idea how long he used me. When he came I blindly pushed back against him, wanting the wet warmth to soothe every inch of my burning ass.
The moment he came, the businessman was done with me. He lifted me one last time by the neck, sliding his softening cock out of me with a wet pop, and just dropped me on the floor. I landed in a heap beside Adèle, who was crawling toward him. He smiled at her and motioned her over, and as I crawled away she was already taking his filthy cock into her mouth.
The third man was easily in his early sixties. As I approached on hands and knees — it already seemed natural — he thanked the redhead politely and sent her on to the next chair. She must have been licking him hard again; his smallish cock gleamed with her saliva.
When I reached his chair, he pulled me into his lap with a smile and slid his cock into my pussy. He seemed to want a simple, undemanding fuck, so I found a rhythm, sliding up and down his cock, and then had a little time to look around.
Master had lost interest in me and had a tiny Asian slave bent over his chair, kneeling behind her and fucking her pussy or ass, I couldn’t tell which from that angle. To my left, Adèle the French maid was still on her knees in front of the businessman, eagerly licking the cock that had just been in my ass.
To my right, the redhead was now kneeling and getting facefucked, her temporary master standing and ramming his cock down her throat. As I watched, her hand crept down between her thighs.
Farther on, the male slave I’d seen earlier was kneeling in front of a loveseat, face half buried in the cushions, hands spreading his ass wide to reveal a well-used asshole. A thin, bespectacled man stood behind him, whipping the slave’s ass with a riding crop as he loudly begged to be fucked. When his ass was crisscrossed with bright red stripes, the thin man lowered himself to his knees and pressed his long, thin cock into the slave’s ass.
When the man using me grunted and came, he pulled out of me and requested that I lick him clean in the politest voice I’d heard all evening. Of course I complied, enjoying the taste of him mixed with my own juices. He enjoyed it, but I doubted his tired cock would be up to Adèle.
And so it went. I was called a slut, a cunt, a worthless whore. I spread my ass and pussy and lips and begged men to use them. I used my tits and even my feet to please them.
A famous televangelist whipped me until I was sobbing again, then made me jack him off using only my tits and saliva. A congressman noted that I looked just like his sister, and told me all the dirty things he’d always wanted to do to her while he fucked me.
After that was my very own Master. To my regret, he didn’t use me at all, but cheerfully waved me on to the next person. That man made me kneel beside him, waiting, till Adèle was free, then had us share his cock, licking and sucking in turns, then running our tongues down it at the same time. He came in Adèle’s mouth, and she turned to kiss me. We shared his cum back and forth between us and by the time we moved on, the man was hard again just from watching.
The man after that took the same idea further. He used our mouths the same way for a while, then stood up and ordered me behind him. When I’d crawled around to face his ass, he used one hand to press my face into it. His ass didn’t smell great, but I was too far gone to care. I lapped at his asshole with my tongue, even pushing the tip of my tongue into it. He liked that, and came so hard in her mouth I thought he might faint.
The Party, Ch. 3
With the hand wound into my hair, the master pulled my mouth to the base of his cock. I lapped at it, letting his hand guide me to each side of his cock and then down onto his shaved balls, licking in long strokes. The second my mouth touched him, I realized his cock wasn’t clean: it was covered in pussy juices, presumably from the redhead, who was now bouncing enthusiastically on the lap of the next man in line. It tasted wonderful.
After I’d cleaned his balls and licked every millimeter of his cock, he clenched his fingers tighter in my hair and the real use began.
He pushed his cock into my mouth, testing me, sliding it deeper with each stroke, waiting for me to gag. When I did, he returned to that point over and over, hitting the edge of my gag reflex, making me choke and cough. His cock got noticeably harder as I began to struggle. When I began to flail wildly, he pulled me off his cock and casually backhanded me with his free hand. I hung suspended by my hair for a moment as he watched me, tears tracing their way down my cheeks. I stopped struggling, dangling limply from his hand.
The master pushed my face back down onto his cock, sliding it all the way down my throat in one smooth thrust. He held me there, completely impaled, for long seconds. Just as the edges of my vision grew black, he pulled me up just enough to allow me to breathe. I gulped in air around the head of his cock, and he pushed me down again. This time he held me down even longer. He seemed to know exactly how long he could keep me there, yanking my head up for breath just before I blacked out.
Once I’d learned how to take large breaths when he allowed and relax my throat for him, he began to fuck my face. I could feel the head of his cock moving up and down in my throat, never pulling out far enough to let me breathe unless my vision was fading and he saw fit to give me air. My world narrowed to his cock and my mouth, my purpose to be the best fucktoy, my ambition to never need breath again so this stranger could use my throat like a cunt.
When the master pulled me off his cock, I mewled like a kitten deprived of milk. Hand still wound in my hair, he came, jets of it splashing onto my cheeks and gaping lips and all the way down to my tits. I’d never seen so much cum, and it, too, tasted wonderful.
I swallowed the few splatters that had landed in my mouth and licked my lips as the master relaxed, leaning back in his chair. He released my hair and dismissed me with a wave of his hand. It didn’t even occur to me to stand, and I crawled the few feet to the next chair with thick cum dripping down my chin and onto the Oriental rug.
When I reached the next armchair, I looked up to see its occupant, a prominent local businessman around forty-five, and the redhead watching me. She was sitting on his lap, impaled on his cock. Juices dripped from her stuffed pussy onto his balls and bare thighs. He patted her on the ass and said, “Okay, you can go, sweetheart.” She giggled and pulled off him with a squelching noise, turning to give him a kiss before scooting off to the next man.
I watched her go, and the businessman grinned. “You’re the new one, aren’t you?” he asked, not unkindly. “Do you know what the difference is between you and her?” I nodded, daring to meet his eyes, then shook my head to indicate I didn’t know. “She’s not wearing a collar because she’s not a slave,” he explained. “She’s here because she wants to be. We can use her, but she doesn’t have to follow orders.”
His face hardening, he reached down and grabbed my collar ring. “You, however, have to obey. Stand up and turn around.” I complied, facing away from him, and he reached up again to yank on the back of my collar. Surprised, I fell backward onto his lap. He laughed and wrapped one large hand around my neck, arranging my sprawled limbs with the other. His cock, still slick with the redhead’s juices, poked against my back. His breath was hot against my ear.
And then he lifted me like a large doll by that hand around my neck and positioned his cock at the entrance to my ass. I squeaked and squirmed as he began to lower me onto it, cock pushing as my asshole. “Oh no, no complaining, pet. I’m going to try out that little ass. I even had the redhead sit until you got here so my cock would be nice and wet for you. Now take it like a good little cunt.”
With each word, he lowered me a little more, letting my own body weight press his cock into my ass. Now I understood why Master had made me wear the plug on the way there. This man’s cock was significantly bigger than the little plug, though, and the redhead’s pussy juices were almost dry. The more I struggled, though, the more the man seemed to like it. He forced me inch by painful inch onto his cock, one hand wrapped around my throat, the other squeezing and kneading my tits.
I was sobbing quietly by the time he’d completely impaled me and his balls rested against my ass. He held me there a long while, savoring the way my tight ass tried to reject him. A random motion at a nearby chair made me look up and it was then that I saw Master watching me from across the room.
The Party, Ch. 2
My haze lasted till the door opened at Master’s knock and a maid led us inside. She was dressed in a fantasy of a French maid costume that concealed little, framing — but not hiding — her pert breasts in ruffles and barely covering her pussy. She was either genuinely French or had mastered the accent; her low voice was musical.
“Ah, our last guests,” she murmured, eyes lowered. “If your slave would please take her place in line, Sir, I’ll show you to the gathering.” Master unclipped the leash from my collar and stowed it in his pocket, then gestured down the hall. I caught my breath. Five others knelt there in the wide hallway, four women and one man. Four collared slaves kneeling with hands on thighs, staring at the floor, waiting to be used. I hurried to join them, kneeling at the end of the line next to a luscious redhead who wore only stockings and garter belt. And no collar. I wondered about it, but didn’t dare ask.
After Master disappeared down the hall with the maid, servitude got boring very quickly. The others, clearly more experienced or just better disciplined, didn’t move an inch, but I couldn’t help shifting my weight more and more frequently as the hard wooden floor bit into my knees.
Every ten or fifteen minutes, the French maid would return, leading the slave at the head of the line away down the hall. First the young man, whose cock hardened to half-mast and bobbed against his leg as he was led away. Then a blonde, two brunettes and the redhead, and finally I was left alone in the hall, fidgeting on the hard floor and wondering whether I dared get up and stretch.
Just as I started to rise, the maid’s heels came clicking down the hall and I hastily dropped to my knees. She looked slightly amused but said only, “Please follow me” in that velvet voice. I followed, but unlike the others I held my head high, determined to meet the unknown with dignity.
When the unknown was revealed my reaction was less about dropping my eyes than fleeing back down the hall entirely. That first glance revealed a large room decorated in what I tended to think of as “stuffy DC rich people decor” and populated by what seemed like a hundred men in armchairs and on couches, in various states of undress, each attended by a collared slave. The air was thick with moans and slaps and the wet sounds of fucking.
After the initial shock, I realized there were probably only fourteen or fifteen men in the room. The maid gave me a moment to take it in, then led me to the closest chair. The man sitting in it was in his mid-fifties, graying but handsome, and impeccably clad in a well-tailored business suit despite the late hour. Or at least the suit had been impeccable; as the maid led me forward, I could see the wet stains around the large, hard cock jutting out of his pants. Clearly I wouldn’t be the first to serve this man.
He scrutinized me as we approached, and I could feel his eyes still on me as I knelt before him. I was suddenly conscious of my chubby thighs and unruly hair and every other way I deviated from perfection and was profoundly grateful when that burning gaze left me.
“Here is the last of them, Sir,” the maid said, kneeling beside his chair. “Thank you, Adèle,” said the man, winding a hand into her hair. “But I think you will be the last of them, won’t you?” Adèle leaned into his hand, turning her face upward to kiss it. “Of course you will,” he said complacently and turned his attention back to me.
As the man leaned forward to hook a finger in the ring on my collar and raise me for inspection, I realized belatedly that this must be the master of the house. /In several ways/, I thought, but my inappropriate giggle turned to a gasp as he yanked me upward by the collar. Stretched fully upright on my knees, back arched and chest outthrust, I didn’t dare meet his eyes or speak. As the silence lengthened, something else occurred to me: Of course this man would be the first to use each slave. It was only then that the full truth hit me in my dazed state: I would be passed down the line, each of the twenty or more men using me.
The master must have seen something in my face, or maybe I moaned at the sudden rush of wetness between my thighs. He released my collar and gripped my chin instead, forcing me to look him in the eye. What he saw there must have satisfied him; he leaned forward until he could slide that hand down my body to my pussy, wetting the fingers just like Master had. He then pushed his wet fingers into my mouth, forcing me to lick my own juices off them.
When each finger had been cleaned, he wound them into my hair and pulled me forward. When I was kneeling directly in front of his chair, legs splayed wide and belly pressed against the plush fabric, he began using me.
The Party, Ch. 1
When Master dressed me himself, I knew it was a special occasion. Normally, he’d choose something for me to wear, then order me to put it on and watch while I made a little show of it. That night, he slid the garter belt up to my hips, drew the stockings up my legs, and fastened each garter himself. He chose the shelf bra and fastened it behind me, then pulled and tweaked each breast until it was perfectly poised just short of spilling over the edge.
He pulled the slutty little black stretch dress over my head, murmuring instructions for me to raise my arms, then smoothed it over my hips. He chose the highest heels in my collection and slid them on my feet himself. He even chose the colors of my lipstick (fire-engine red) and eye shadow (peacock teals and greens) and sat beside me as I applied them, hand on my thigh.
Then he buckled on my black leather collar — not the cute little everyday one he preferred around the house, but the thicker, heavier one with rings in both front and back, tightening it till he heard my little moan. I heard the small metallic snick as he slid the little lock on and closed it. And almost as an afterthought, he bent me over the bed and slid two lubed fingers into my ass, followed by my favorite plug.
Last, my Master clipped the long chain leash onto my collar and led me out the door. After he’d walked me over to his car and settled me in the passenger seat, I dared to ask where we were going. My answer was his finger pressed against my lips, and we spent the drive in silence. More or less: I couldn’t help gasping and moaning as Master’s fingers pulled my skirt up to my waist and danced across my pussy lips.
Forty-five minutes later, Master pulled into the drive of an imposing red-brick house in a very nice neighborhood. Every window was lit, and luxury cars lined the driveway. Someone was probably hosting a staid, boring, respectable, swanky dinner party.
I shrank back against the leather seat; this obviously wasn’t the place for someone like me, a slut dressed like a whore. Master smiled at me knowingly and slid his fingers down to my pussy again, heading directly to my clit and bringing me to the verge of orgasm within seconds. Then he stopped, wringing a protesting whimper from me.
“Who do you belong to?” His voice was more serious than I’d ever heard it. My own was shaking uncontrollably as I replied. “You, of course, Sir. Oh please please please let me cum, please…”
“Good girl. When we’re done here, you can cum.” Then he stepped out of the car and around to my side, holding open the door like any gentleman. When I didn’t immediately respond, he simply reached down for the leash and yanked me out of the car, steadying me as I teetered on my heels.
He moved back a few steps to inspect me. I was busy pulling the little dress back down over my hips and didn’t realize he’d moved closer again until his hand closed around my neck.
“You begged me to own you and use you. You say that you’re mine,” he growled. “But you don’t seem to be acting the way you know I like sluts to behave. If I want to take you out and let the world see what a worthless cunt you are, I’ll do exactly that.” With one hand still on my neck, he ran the other down my body to my sopping pussy, pushing three fingers inside me. “Now, do you want to be used, or do you want to go home?”
“Use me. Please.” The words were barely whispers, but Master heard. He pulled his fingers out of me and slapped me across the cheek. “Good. Take off the dress. I was going to let you wear it till we got inside, but I don’t think you deserve it.” Moving in a daze, I fumbled with the hem and pulled the dress over my head. Then he reached around and pulled the plug out of my ass, dropping it in a sandwich bag he’d pulled out of his pocket.
He put both items in the car and turned back to me, smoothing my tousled hair and stepping back to inspect me. I stood in the driveway, dressed in my stockings and garter belt and bra and heels and collar, far past caring whether anyone saw. Master slid his hand to my pussy one more time, wetted his fingers, and slapped me across the other cheek. Then he took my leash and I followed him to the house, my own pussy juices drying across both cheeks.
I decided to do another caption call this fine Sunday 🙂
The first one was posted here. This is the second call.
Caption call #2: In Transit
I do adore this photo. I hope someone will take me up on the call to caption it. Same as before, just reblog this photo with your caption, or if you prefer, comment in my blog post with it here (leaving me a way to get in touch with you). 10 days (I’m extending it in hopes to read more delicious filth) from now, I’ll reblog my favorite to share it with everyone.
The goal is …More erotica for everyone!
So, if you please, what story brews when viewing this photo? Is she being delivered? Has she just been picked up at the start of her journey, or is she being retrieved at the end of it? Happy writing, all . ..
The toy Trip, part 1
The toy stirred in bed, wakefulness hitting her in a rush as the timer-activated vibrator buried in her pussy started buzzing. Despite the desire rekindled within her, she stayed just in place, curled up naked under the covers at Master’s feet. She knew she had to stay still and silent, but it was difficult for her after yesterday.
Master had had her call in sick to work, and she had spent the day naked, bound supine on the bare bed frame in the extra room—not her room, he had made that very clear to her—with a ring gag in her mouth, clamps on her nipples, and vibrating dildos churning in her other holes, a small but obvious video camera catching every moment. Her only instruction was to make sure not to cum. Master had worked from home that day, and he had come to take care of her needs every few hours. He made sure that the bindings were not too tight and switched out the vibrators to keep her from going numb, he refilled the rabbit water bottle that she could use to stay hydrated if she strained with tongue outstretched, and he made sure to let her exercise her muscles as he took her to the restroom, though she hadn’t been allowed use of the toilet when she relieved herself.
Of course, Master had also released his toy when he desired some relief for himself.
After the first break, he had placed her on her side, bound all four of her limbs behind her back and with the vibrators set on high, he had face-fucked her, quickly releasing the first load into her mouth but spraying the rest over her torso. He wiped himself off on her face, placed her back on the bed frame, and tied her back up just as she had been, except that he had stoppered the ring gag and told her not to swallow until he gave the order. Master left her alone for twice as long as he had before, and when he came back he did so with her lunch in a dog bowl. Sans ring gag, he had made her dribble his cum onto her food to ensure that she hadn’t swallowed it early. Once he was satisfied, he let her eat lunch after he tied her back up, bound prone with her face in the bowl, her nipples burning as the clamps were crushed against her modest breasts. When he flipped her back over after his next return, he had remarked in a pleased tone that the dried cum patterns on her front had only smeared a little bit.
After the last break of the day, Master had taken his time to arrange her on the bedroom floor, humming cheerfully as she moaned (an exception to the mandated silence) from the freshly-changed vibrators, currently set on maximum. He bound her wrists and forearms to each other, tied her calves back to her thighs, and then, removing the anal dildo at the last moment, he pushed himself into her rear end. The toy had jerked abruptly at that, almond eyes opening wide and a yelp bursting out of her ring gag. Luckily the bindings and his crushing grip on her hips kept her from moving too far, and Master had continued pounding into her rectum, the freshly reapplied layer of lubricant added with the dildo keeping it just on this side of outright pain. As it was, the feeling of her owner taking his property so abruptly and the unrelenting pleasure from her pussy was enough to catapult her to the edge of an orgasm almost immediately. Her desperately wordless pleas to orgasm were instantly slapped back by her Master’s amused refusal to let her to climax. An indeterminable amount of time later, he came into her ass, pumping his cum deep inside her. He rested there for a short time, sounds of heavy breathing and his toy’s soft whimpers of frustrated arousal filling the room, the dildo in her pussy still vibrating at full force. Then he rose from her, stuffed the anal vibrator back in her rear, adjusted the settings of both dildos, and rebound her into her original position on the bed before leaving to do some more work. Or perhaps he had just left to go watch her through the camera—she didn’t know if it was set for live streaming or recording, or both, and she might never find out.
Not once throughout that long, long day had she cum.
Even after several hours of sleep, the toy was still dangerously worked up, the heat between her legs refusing to be banked past a certain point even without the vibrator. With the vibrator…it made stillness and silence difficult, but she persevered. She shuddered to think of what would happen if she woke him up before she got started. The toy didn’t want to be punished, especially not today. There was going to be a surprise today, a big one if the previous day’s buildup had been any indication, and Master’s surprises got nasty when she was bad.
Moving carefully, the toy sidled up Master’s legs. Glad that he hadn’t pulled further away than her leash could reach, the toy carefully opened the gap of his boxers and gently coaxed him to hardness with her mouth. Master came awake in little over a minute, his breath hissing as she rubbed her tongue along the underside of his cockhead. His hands snaked under the covers and tangled themselves in her hair.
“Push.”
Without pausing for breath, the toy pushed herself down on his cock, suppressing her gag reflex as his head entered the top of her throat. This went on for a while, long enough for her chest to grow tight with the desire for more oxygen.
“Off.”
The toy came off Master’s cock with an audible pop but otherwise didn’t move, her breasts pressed against his legs with every gasping breath.
Master clenched her hair for a moment longer, then released her with a gentle pat on the cheek. “Good girl,” he murmured. He shifted one leg, reaching down to squeeze one of her nipples. She shuddered again, for a different reason, mingled pain and pleasure flickering through her. “You know what the next step is,” he said, unclipping her collar from the leash affixed to the bed.
Fighting down her embarrassment, the toy crawled in a circle until she had turned 180 degrees. She arched her back, lying her face down on the bed, and reached back to grab both cheeks and pull them apart.
Master flipped up the blanket covering her and appreciated the view for several long moments. He reached out and played with her, sparking several whimpers from the aroused toy before he finally relented and removed the buzzing vibrator. He gave her a rough slap on the rump, the toy’s cue to stop and turn back around. He slipped the small device inside his toy’s mouth with a straight face, though amusement lined his face as the toy grimaced at the vibrations against her teeth.
“Get to it then,” he said with another pat for her cheek. The toy pressed her forehead to his leg for a moment in a bow, then silently dropped to the floor on all fours and, pausing only to turn off the phone alarm that controlled the vibrator, she crawled off to take care of her morning duties.
An hour later, the toy was kneeling beside Master’s seat at the table with her arms held behind her, already finished with her plain oatmeal, though Master hadn’t yet finished the pancakes and eggs she made for him. Without looking away from his breakfast, he dropped a napkin onto the floor and stepped on one corner of it. Flushing slightly, his toy bent down and dragged her face across the napkin, moving in only one direction to keep it from riding up.
“Go into the bedroom,” Master said, lifting up his foot before she was quite finished. “Put on outfit…six, then wait in Humble position by the door.”
His toy bowed, carefully keeping the soiled spots on her face from touching him as she pressed her forehead to his foot, then brought her hands from behind her back and crawled out into the bedroom. Outfit six was a standard set of clothes, a tight but plain grey shirt and wrinkling set of black cargo pants, coupled with white Adidas socks and strap-on sandals.
The toy heaved a silent sigh. She never should have commented in that tone when he wore socks with his sandals one day. Now he made her wear them all the time.
Looking closer, the toy could see that there were a few underthings added to the outfit, though panties were still excluded. She was unsurprised; it had been so long since she had worn panties under clothing that juxtaposing the two would probably feel strange. She put on the clothes and went to go into the Humble pose before the door, knees folded up, arms outstretched before her, forehead pressed against the floor. It had only been a few minutes before Master arrived, carrying something in his hands.
“Kneel,” he commanded quietly. She smoothly shifted into an upright position, back straight and forearms clasped together behind her. He twirled a finger around in the air, and his toy obediently shuffled in a circle until she faced the door. She heard Master crouch down behind her, and then he grasped her hands and tied them with a strip of some rough material. The toy gave a sharp cry as the knots constricted—the bindings were tight, far tighter than usual. Master ignored her complaint and drew her to her feet. He crouched down again, fiddling with what she could now see was a long strip of leather. In no time at all, her legs were hobbled at mid-thigh, and he finished up by tying the last strip of leather around her neck in a makeshift leash.
“Come, toy,” Master said with a smile, one that only grew at her squeak of embarrassment and the blush that showed faintly beneath her darkened complexion, starting in her cheeks, rising up to the roots of her mixed dark and light brown hair and falling down her slender neck below the collar. His smile became a smirk as he reached out and fingered the neckline of her shirt, almost as though he was going to remove it. Instead, he merely turned around and led her out the door.
The toy kept her eyes down as they walked through the apartment complex, trying to forget that people could see her. Her clothes were more than decent, this time, but the bindings on her hands weren’t very subtle, the hobbling made her walk strangely enough that it would attract attention, and the leash was in clear view. Her blush deepened a moment when she heard laughter nearby, but she was able to push it aside for a time. Just keeping up with Master’s pace without tripping from the bindings around her legs was difficult enough to distract her from the humiliation. For the most part. Her curiosity got the better of her as they walked, and she kept popping quick glances around her, trying to see if anyone was there. Her blush had waned and waxed twice by the time they walked the length of the apartment complex and reached the sidewalk. It returned with full force then, as the walkway had enough people walking on it that she couldn’t pretend nobody could see her. Even then, she couldn’t keep herself from looking around to see who was there. A middle-aged woman carrying some grocery bags, a couple of people who clearly pulled an early weekend shift, a few students from the local college who had the look of still being up rather than rising early—nobody she knew.
Master opened the back door to his dark-colored sedan parked on the side of the city street, and his toy got inside without further direction. It was a bit awkward, but she managed easily enough. The toy was surprised when he nudged at her to keep moving further into the car, but acquiesced quickly. He closed the door behind him and took a minute to untie the leash from around her neck, looping it loosely around the grip handle just above the door.
Master and turned to look at her. “Toy,” he said, looking at her with characteristic intensity. His toy looked away quickly, covertly rubbing her legs together. She was already worked up today, but even on a normal day he could get to her with nothing more than a word. It wasn’t the specific words he used that got to her, really. It was how he said them, the tone, intonation.
It was just so rich with suggestion.
Master placed his hand on the nape of his toy’s neck, eliciting another shiver, and rotated her clockwise until she had swiveled enough that he could pull her legs over his own. Ignoring her confused look, he removed her sandals, tossing them carelessly to the passenger side of the front. He gripped under her knees with one hand and ran the other hand up her legs, smiling a little at the small crinkling noises the pants produced, until his hands reached her waistline. With the ease of long practice, he popped open her button and unzipped the pants, but he didn’t push the pants aside so that he could reach in. Instead, he ran his fingers along the line that separated flesh from cloth, once, twice—and then he lifted her up by her legs even as he pulled her pants down.
The toy meeped in surprise, shooting him a panicked look as her head turned frantically around her—seeing the slow-moving traffic on one side and the occupied sidewalk on the other. He just smirked at her and left the pants where they were, revealing everything from mid-thigh to midriff. Gripping her legs more firmly, he lifted sharply, pulling her feet to the level of her head and revealing her nether regions to his hungry gaze.
The toy’s cheeks ignited, her blush coming back stronger than before, at her private areas being exposed for any passerby to see. She almost spoke out but strangled it just in time, expressing herself with several high whines.
“It’s almost like she wants people to hear her and look inside,” Master murmured as though to himself. His toy cut herself off abruptly. She knew, when he was like this, that he was deliberately placing her a step lower than her norm, treating her as not worth talking with, just about or to. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t get his message across. “But look at that,” he murmured again, reaching a hand out and running it across her pussy. “She’s dripping wet. Perhaps she does want people to watch her.”
His toy let out a gasp as he pressed a finger inside her and she screwed her eyes shut, too embarrassed to look at him and acknowledge—
Master’s deep chuckle reverberated around the inside of the car she felt her pussy clench around his finger.
“Looks like I was right after all,” he said with laughing undertones, withdrawing his drenched finger. A moment later, the toy felt something prod her mouth. Without thought, she parted her lips, sucking what was presented to her as she was taught. The combined pleasure of sucking Master’s finger and the taste of her own arousal sent shudders of delight through his toy, her eyes sliding open absently.
Master pulled his finger from her mouth with another laugh. “There will plenty of time for that later,” he said chidingly. He dropped her legs and grabbed the back of her shirt as she overbalanced, pulling it up over her breasts in a single move, though the way her hands were bound kept him from raising it much higher. Without pausing for more than a moment, he pulled the bottom of the shirt higher, completely covering her face. Wanting to see, the toy peered as hard as she could through the tight, thin material. She had limited success until she felt him seize her short black undershirt and pull it over the first, blotting out her sight entirely and leaving her entire torso bare but for the cheap white bra she had been given.
She let out a soft noise of protest, silencing it the instant she felt his hand close around her throat. Rather than punish her, however, his hand merely pulled her until she was leaning forward, bending her in half with her head pressed against her thighs. He let go, and she felt a hand slide between her arms and her back. Her bra fell loose as the clasp was undone, though her posture kept it from coming off to any large degree. She felt the bra stretch away from her for a moment, and then it too had been raised over her head, the tension of the straps pinning the shirts in place.
He chuckled again and, hand back around her throat, he pulled her back up into a sitting position, baring everything between neck and mid-thigh. His toy tried to keep it contained, but much softer whining noises kept leaking out despite herself. She had always been self-conscious about her modest figure, and exposing it for everyone to see…
“Oh, look at that,” Master drawled, his finger running a waving line from the exposed flesh on her neck down between her middling breasts. “The blush does extend down this far.”
His toy’s cheeks burned. The fact that this wasn’t the first time he had made that particular observation didn’t make it any less embarrassing.
The toy tried to reassure herself that Master didn’t seem to mind her figure much, from the appreciative noises he made as his hands roamed over her uncovered body. His hands drifted across the soft swell of her breasts, pausing to trace her wide areolas and tweak her peaked nipples, then down over her stomach, brushing ever-so-gently against her enflamed vulva, then down her legs. He paused a moment to roll her pants down over the bindings, pushing them down until they were just above her knees, then resumed his examination of her body.
His toy’s breathing grew heavy, eyes fluttering against the inside of her shirts as Master fanned the flames already burning inside her. More than prepared by the experiences of the past day, she felt an orgasm building inside of her. Once it was close enough, she started uttering the particularly high noises that he had called her “orgasm yelps,” the only way while silenced to ask for permission to cum.
“Maintain it,” Master ordered sternly, and her voice lost some of its high pitch as his toy strained to follow the order, not letting herself cross the edge but not retreating from it either. Her body grew hotter and hotter, and Master’s hands gained the definite feel of sliding over sweat as he played with every inch of her revealed flesh.
When Master next spoke, one of his hands was sliding between her legs, opened as wide as she could with the hobbling still in place, while the other was tracing aimless circles around her areola.
“Toy,” he said again, the toy’s body writhing at his treatment of her, bound hands scrabbling uselessly against the seating. “Are you still maintaining it?”
Still not allowed to speak, his toy nodded frantically, her cries growing higher once more, the volume starting to rise.
“Good,” he said simply, and then his fingers were plunging into her, so deep, the toy’s breath caught, one nipple erupting into pleasurable pain as it was twisted, she was close, so close, the fingers were so deep inside, she couldn’t cum without permission, the fingers were in up to the knuckle, wait for permission, they started to curl up—
“No,” Master’s voice came, shattering the anticipation into a thousand glittering shards. “Suppress it.”
His toy groaned deep in her throat, the sheer effort of hauling herself back from the edge wringing the breath from her body and tensing her every muscle like a guitar in the hands of a fool, just twisting the knobs further and further, tightening the strings more and more until they’re ready to snap—except she made it, she pulled herself away from the edge, she was a good girl and did as she was told.
When the toy’s thoughts regained some semblance of order, she tried to look around, panting heavily. Doing so informed her rather firmly that the shirts were still pinned to her face and blocked out all sight. She gave a few whimpers, only to be soothed by Master’s hand patting her thigh.
“The close ones are always the best ones to watch,” he said, quietly amused, as he had been all day. His hands slid an inch closer to her pussy, and the toy felt her arousal spike again, almost against her will. She started making little moaning noises on the end of each breath.
“No, no,” Master said, voice at its normal volume and more amused than ever. “Not again, not quite yet.”
Whimpering a little, the toy moved her head to where he had to be, rubbing her clothes-covered face against his shoulder.
“Certainly not yet,” Master admonished, firmly pushing her away. His toy slumped a little, then jumped as his voice suddenly sounded in her ear. “That’s for later,” he whispered, sending shivers up and down her spine. “But only if you’re a good girl.”
The toy resolved right then and there to be the best girl she possibly could be today.
She felt Master doing something around her legs, and she lifted her rear off of the seat to give him better access. The hobbling came loose and her pants fell to the floor. The toy’s legs spread by habit, and she felt a hand brush her face for a moment.
“Hold it,” he commanded, and the toy froze in place, as she would stay until he released her. There was rustling again for a few moments, and then she heard the unmistakable sounds of a car door opening and Master stepping outside.
It hit the toy again, what she had forgotten in her maddening struggle not to orgasm. She was in a car, on an active street, with a sidewalk that was occupied, if not full, and she was sitting there all-but-naked, blinded, hands bound behind her and legs spread open wide.
Her legs tried to snap shut at the realization, only to freeze halfway there. The toy’s legs quivered with indecision, before they slowly, slowly, opened back up, spread just as far as before. Master had said to hold it, and so she would hold it. Even if people could see her, and could take pictures of her, and even get in the car, she hadn’t heard him lock the door and who knows where he was right now or when he’d get back or—
The slam of the trunk closing behind her derailed her increasingly anxious train of thought, and the toy relaxed, only now feeling the jackhammering of her heart, the rapidity of her breath. She took deep breaths to calm herself down and hid her reaction by the time the car door opened again.
“Oh, did my toy get nervous while I was out?”
Or not. The toy whimpered once before she remembered that the sound would carry much further while Master was outside with the door open and she shut up. He laughed at her, making her flush again.
Master got inside next to her, still chuckling. “I can see why,” he said, a falsely sympathetic tone in his voice. “Those college guys certainly were eyeing you intently.”
The toy’s eyes widened behind her shirts and she gave another meep, heat spreading across her face once again.
“My goodness, toy, I think you’ve blushed more this morning than you have this month! Perhaps I should humiliate you in public more often…”
The toy started whimpering again, both at the words and at the effect they had on her body, nipples retightening and her pussy leaking on the seat as her arousal spiked alongside her shame.
The next few minutes were filled with odd noises, starting with a little clicking noise that she didn’t recognize at first. She realized after a bit that it was the camera noise on his cell phone, something that he usually left on silent so that he could take surreptitious candid shots of her, which meant that he wanted her to know that he was doing it. Goosebumps rippled across her upper arms as she imagined pictures of her up on the internet, thousands of people rubbing one out to her bared body, and her breathing grew heavy once more.
Once the clicks stopped, Master got in and out of the car through different doors, moving over her if needed as though she was just an obstacle, and there were all manner of odd noises, rubs and clunks and rustlings. If he meant her to get a message from that, then he had failed, unless that was the message, that she would have no idea what he was doing unless he let her. Finally the noises died down.
“Release.” The toy instantly relaxed, though she still stayed in place. He gave the insides of her thighs a gentle tap, and her legs clamped together nearly fast enough to catch his fingers. The toy flinched, waiting for a reprimand. Instead, he gently pushed her and she obligingly fell over, facing the door opposite of the one that they entered. It was the work of seconds to release the bindings around her wrists. The toy gave a small cry as the blood rushed back into her hands; she hadn’t even realized how numb they were getting. Master took a moment or two to rub the circulation back into them, then let them go to pull off the clothes on her head. The early morning light hit her eyes sharply and she had to blink them a few times until they adjusted. Sitting back up, her eyes roved over the car and everything in it, driven to determine what had happened while she was blind.
Master, where she looked first, was precisely the same save for the expectant look on his face. She was naked now, of course, save for her socks and the silver ring on her left forefinger, inscribed with toy on the outside and owned inside, the collar that she never took off. She shot another embarrassed glance out of the windows and saw no significant change beyond one of the windows being down, then looked closer around the inside of the car.
The small camera that he used to watch his toy yesterday had been strapped to the side of the passenger headrest, its lens focused directly on the middle seat. She peeked forward and saw Master’s cell phone already set up in the hands-free setting, oriented so that he could easily glance down and see it. Glancing to the sides, she saw that one of the leather strips had been tied to each of the rear doors’ arm grips, the other end hanging loose; there was also a piece of rope, doubled over itself to halve its effective length, woven through the grip handles above the two rear doors, both ends hanging limply as well.
“I think that’s enough time for a last look,” Master drawled. He tapped his toy’s legs again, and she opened them wide for him. He leaned over her, one hand resting high on her thigh as he grabbed the leather strip on the opposite door. In quick movements, he tied it off around her knee, keeping her from closing that leg without moving her position. He started to pick up the leather strip on this side, then dropped it with a mutter and grabbed the rope on that side instead. Making her hold the rope in her mouth, he placed his hand on her thigh again while he reached for the rope on the other side. That done, he bound the two ends together, forming a knot that was the dead center of the car and about nose-high on her when she was sitting upright. He reached into a bag in the front seat that she had missed in her first check—that he got from the trunk, perhaps?—and pulled out her red and black ball gag.
Without prompting, the toy opened her mouth, working her jaw slightly for comfort as the large rubber ball was pressed inside. Then she suddenly realized the point of the ropes, as he closed the ball gag around the lines, the gag straps pinning it against her head. Not only did this force her to hold her head up, but it also made her sit up straight, as leaning forward resulted in the ball biting into her mouth and any slumping caused the knot dig into the back of her head.
He reached into the front bag again and pulled out a couple of items that made the toy’s heart sink a little—a well-made, more professional blindfold and a small MP3 player with accessories. Now she knew what he meant a ‘last look.’ Master placed the blindfold over her eyes and tightened the straps until there was no give. She felt him slip the arm-holster around her bicep, and then the noise-canceling headphones were placed over her ears, cutting the ambient noise down to nearly nothing. The toy turned her head around in vain, deaf and blind.
Master grabbed her hands and the unaccounted-for strip of leather was used it to bind them together in front of her, firmly but not tightly, dominant right hand on top.
After he slipped the lap belt on his toy, she felt the seat shift and the car quiver as the door closed. She felt his hand on her leg almost immediately, causing a start of surprise until she remembered the open window. Soon, her last free limb was bound, keeping her outstretched and wide open, pinned in place, completely out of her control. The toy’s breathing deepened, the constant barrage of her turn-ons pushing her libido into overdrive. Desperate for relief, her hands moved towards her aching pussy but she stilled them just in time—he hadn’t given her permission to play with herself.
The toy felt the car move as Master got into the front seat. At the same time, she heard derisive laughter coming from the open window. She snapped her head to the side in horror, knotted rope pressing painfully against the back of her head, until she realized that the sound moved with her head. She relaxed; it was just one of the audio tracks that Master had put together for times like this, when she was embarrassed and couldn’t see. She knew how it would run, with people laughing at her from every side. But even knowing it was fake, the toy couldn’t suppress her reactions. The humiliation sharpened her arousal, tightening her nipples and increasing the trickle from her uncovered pussy, which made her more embarrassed, which made her even more excited, etc. She had started shaking her head back and forth, the shifting sources of sound helping her remember that they were fake, when she felt a poke to her forehead. Her head snapped forward and the laughter cut off as the headphones audibly clicked off.
“We’re going on a little trip today, toy,” Master said, his voice only a little distorted by the deactivated headphones. “Once we get there, you will be entertaining a few of my friends. I expect my toy to be perfectly obedient during that time. Is that clear?”
She knew it was a rhetorical question, but she nodded regardless. She thought about what he said and shuddered, molten desire rippling through her at the thought of being at the mercy of so many people, handed around like a party favor, made to service everyone without expectation of reciprocation…unthinkingly, her hands moved to caress her sex. At the first touch she snapped out of it, but by then it was too late. She looked with dread at where Master had to be—but punishment didn’t come.
“Oh no, toy,” he said, amusement layered throughout his voice. “You will be able to play with yourself on the way there. In fact, I insist on it,” he continued, either ignoring or unaware of her surprise. “I want you playing with that pretty cunt of yours the entire way out there. Standard rules for cumming, though.” She felt him flick her forehead again. “Get started.” The headphone clicked back on.
Trembling with trepidation and lust, glad that she kept her nails neatly manicured, the toy slowly put her bound hands between her legs and began to play.
The rest of the trip was a blur to the toy, fogged with ever-burning heat and unrelenting pressure. There were scattered memories of the gag being removed, a straw in her mouth, and sweet glorious water filling her mouth before the gag was replaced, but they were beyond vague. The trip was very long, they had to have stopped to use the restroom at least once, but the toy literally had no memories of that. Much of what survived was recollections of her masturbation.
Most of the time her focus was on her pussy, as she was ordered. Her left hand, soon soaked in her juices, grew tired swiftly, but with her hands bound as they were, she couldn’t switch to her right hand, so she persevered. After a time, her hand went from tired to unresponsive, and after more failed attempts at switching hands, she just started to manipulate her left hand with her right, desperate to cum, more desperate not to, but absolutely driven to keep going.
She didn’t spend all of her time between her legs, however. After she felt the car move, the audio files came back. Most of them were basic white noise generators, but randomly sprinkled throughout were other sounds. A few of them were recordings of herself on a previous occasion, though never of herself actually climaxing; the toy listened to herself whisper and plead and beg for orgasms in some recordings, and groan and whimper and yelp in others, and was always denied. The sounds she heard and the memories they invoked only heightened her arousal, and it was not uncommon for her muffled yelps to join those of the recordings. Every time she got agitated enough, the headphones would click off and Master would command her to Maintain it or Suppress it.
Sometimes she was able to hear his laughter before the headphones clicked back on.
Every time she reached that point, the car would soon pull off to the side and he would add something. A clothespin each time she got his attention, for a while. A clamp on each nipple, and one on her clit, tightened one revolution with every order to Maintain it. Once he seemed to feel that she was clipped and clamped enough, with pins bristling out from her breasts and vulva like a wooden hedgehog, he pulled her lip enough that she had started drooling uncontrollably, a rivulet of saliva flowing down her body to mix in with what was flowing from her overstimulated pussy. After that he had gone straight back to the pins, occasionally toying with them while she yelped frantically for release, other times removing them from one spot just to reapply them to another.
Listening to herself driven mad like that while doing it to herself pushed her to the brink, and some of her frustrated tears joined those of the recordings as well.
Still other recordings were of Master, and he snapped orders at her like he was there watching. She had to do them just as if it wasn’t a recording, as previous situations had shown her, or Master would know immediately and punish her. Sometimes he just directed her closely, shifting from circular rotations of her clit to plunging her fingers deep inside herself and back. More often, she gave her throbbing pussy a break at his direction, playing with her breasts instead, the bindings making it awkward but not impossible. At least once, Master had apparently paused the audio file but kept the headphones on, leaving the toy helplessly repeating her last orders, waiting endlessly for the order to stop.
The first clue that they had arrived that managed to penetrate the haze that had descended into her brain was when Master unceremoniously took the clamp off of her clit. The toy shrieked at the sudden flash of pain that burned through her, pain and something else, something that gathered momentum and charged deep into her core—
“No,” Master said, his voice a cracking whip. “Suppress it.”
His toy writhed in place, as much as she was able to, but she managed to fight it down after an eternity or two, only to start the battle anew when he plucked the clamps from her nipples. The constant fighting wrung her out like a damp washcloth, and she slumped in place, incoherent moans garbling their way past the gag biting deep into her face. Master started to remove each and every pin that adorned her limp form, eliciting barely more reaction at this point than louder moans and little jerks here and there.
Another eternity passed, and she finally became aware of what was going on again. She straightened up unsteadily, only realizing her legs were free when they moved reflexively, that her mouth was empty when she didn’t taste the rubber. The blindfold was still on, and the headphones might be—
“Good toy,” Master said from nearby, and his toy still, even after all of this, found herself reacting to his words, a whimper limping out of her throat. The headphones were definitely off. “No, it’s not time to be tired yet, toy.” There was a hesitation, a long one, lengthily enough for the toy to notice even in her current condition.
Suddenly Master was at her side, but she was too tired to be startled. She vaguely felt the leather lead tied around her neck, and the hobble redone around her legs, but she didn’t realize that her hands had been undone until she was on her side on the seat again, hands being bound behind her back. Master paused again after that was done. She felt his hands glide along the curve of her bottom, sticking out towards him in this position, feeling good without pain, her ass had been spared overstimulation on the trip—
Until she felt his fingers begin to penetrate her dry, lubeless rectum.
The abrupt sensation blew some clarity into her hazing mind, and she tried to sit upright.
“So you are awake. Good to know,” Master’s amused voice said behind her. “Now come along,” his said, his words so close but lacking the inflection that would make release an order, “we’re running behind as it is.”
Slowly, tremblingly, the toy got to her Adidas-socked feet and, led by the leather leash around her neck, she stumbled blindly to wherever Master decided for her.
END OF PART 1.
Stand at the window and spread yourself for me. Wait. Feel the cooling air but do not let it dry you. I do not care what twisted fantasies you need to conjure to keep yourself wet for me. If I do not slide effortlessly into you, I will be very disappointed.
I like this game.
my corner 