“That’s right,” she said.
I slammed my open palm on my desk. The crack echoed through the office.
“I demand to know who hired you!” I yelled.
Ms. Hunter didn’t flinch.
“Demands don’t get anywhere with me,” Ms. Hunter said. “I suggest you calm down and take a look at what I’ve come to show you.”
Ms. Hunter pulled out a laptop and flipped it open. She hit a few buttons and the set the computer on my desk with the screen facing me.
“This is what I gathered last Saturday night after you closed the deal out in Portland,” she said. “By the way, congratulations on that. You personally made $13 million. Not bad for a week’s work.”
I gritted my teeth.
“No one was supposed to know about that,” I said.
Ms. Hunter smiled.
“I know,” she said. “But I do.”
Ms. Hunter came around to my side of the desk to narrate her presentation. She put her hand on my chair and leaned in toward the computer. My cock jumped as one tit brushed my face. I wondered if it were intentional. I looked up at her. She ignored me and focused on the screen.
“These first few shots are screen-grabs from your computer,” Ms. Hunter said. “They show a few of the porno sites you were looking at in your hotel room. You start off with straight porn at 8:03 p.m. Just naked chicks, Playboy pics. Nothing weird. You move to cum shots by 8:47. And by 9:02, you start looking at transsexuals.
“You log off at 9:17 and leave the hotel. Here’s a security camera shot of you exiting the lobby with a duffle bag in your hand. And here’s a different video of you pulling into a Burger King parking lot 15 minutes later. You walk in the front door, still dressed like a guy, and head in the direction of the bathroom.
“You emerge 12 minutes later in this sexy, little outfit.”
The surveillance video showed me in full drag click-clacking in heels through the Burger King lobby and out the door. There was no denying it was me. My face was plainly visible, even behind the make-up. I remembered all too clearly. I’d gone to the Burger King to change because several of my associates were staying in the hotel. The memory made me pop a woody, even though I knew this all meant I was in big trouble.
Ms. Hunter continued.
“You leave the Burger King and arrive at Big Dick’s Porn Palace 23 minutes later. Here’s some video of you walking in the front door and browsing through the dildos. This is my favorite part. If you watch closely, you’ll see this shopper notice you and then snicker.”
I remembered her. Some soccer mom shopping for dildos was none too discrete about giggling at me. It was humiliating.
And I loved it.
Ms. Hunter hit fast-forward. The figures on the screen raced around the store.
“I’ll spare you some of the details,” she said. “‘I’m sure you’ll remember meeting Nick and Joe.”
“Actually, I don’t,” I said.
“Maybe you don’t remember their names,” she said. “But you’ll remember what you did with them.”
Ms. Hunter punched a button on the keyboard. A raunchy porno film filled the screen. Two guys worked over a chick in a red dress. Her skirt was over her hips, as one guy violently pounded her ass while the other fucked her face. Just behind them, a blond woman sat on a couch with her legs spread wide. She fucked herself with a silver dildo while watching the sex show in front of her.
I took a closer look. The person in the red dress was no chick. It was me.
“I bet you didn’t know you were being taped,” Ms. Hunter said.
“Enough,” I said. “Turn it off.”
Ms. Hunter shut down the computer and put it in her bag.
“If that gets out,” I said, “I’ll sue the shit out of you. And I’ll make sure you’re brought up on charges. I have friends in high places, believe me.”
“I’m sure you do,” Ms. Hunter said.
She sat down and draped one leg over the other. They were beautiful legs that made it hard to concentrate.
“But here’s the thing,” she said. “I’m ex-CIA. I know things about all those powerful friends you keep in your back pocket. Embarrassing and costly things that will keep their mouths shut.”
“Excuse me for asking,” I said, “but you look a little young to be ex-CIA.”
“I do, don’t I?” she said. “Truth is, I was the fastest-rising agent in history. Could have been the first female director. But then I got too close to a certain foreign dignitary. A Russian. They sent spies after me. A few pictures got to the president. He thought my relationship with the Russian showed poor judgment. The president himself told me I could either step aside or be forced out like Valerie Plame. So, I went into private practice.”
I had no doubt she was telling the truth.
“Fine,” I said. “So you’re ex-CIA. What do you want?”
Ms. Hunter dug into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out two lollipops. She offered me one. I waved it off. She put it back into her pocket and peeled the wrapper off the other.
“Are you familiar with fem dom?” she asked, while holding the red candy near her lips.
I knew exactly what it was, but I wasn’t going to let on, at least not all the way.
“It sounds like a sex thing,” I said.
“Right,” Ms. Hunter said, while pulling the sucker out of her mouth. “Some women like to sexually humiliate men. They make their man-slaves dress up like girls and then humiliate them. What do you think of that?”
Her tongue played on the candy like the head of a cock. A full-blown hard-on raged in my pants.
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“That’s fine,” I said. “But it doesn’t answer my question. What do you want?”
Ms. Hunter giggled.
“You’re a good actor,” she said. “I bet you’re great in the board room. Poker-face the whole time.”
This woman was seeing right through me. My back was sweating.
“I’ll just get right to it then,” she said. “I want two million in cash delivered to me tonight.”
“Fine,” I said. “What do I get?”
“All copies of the video presentation you just saw,” she said. “And just to show how nice I am, I’ll give you some dirt on the person who ordered up this investigation.”
“Deal,” I said.
“Wait,” Ms. Hunter said. “You didn’t let me finish. There’s something else I want.”
“What is it?” I asked.
Ms. Hunter slipped the lollipop into her mouth and leaned forward, propping her elbows on my desk. Her tits formed a cleavage that seemed bottomless. She let me stare for a few seconds. Then she pulled the sucker from her lips with a smack. I could smell its sticky sweetness from across my desk.
“You’re going to be me fem-dom bitch when you come over to drop off the money,” she said. “Your ass is mine for one hour.”
I sighed. It was true that I wanted to be her sex slave. But I hated giving in to an extortionist.
“You’re a sick woman,” I said.
Ms. Hunter smiled and tossed the lollipop into the waste can.
“I know,” she said. “But so are you.”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose. A headache was coming hard and fast.
“Deal,” I said. “Where do we meet?”
Ms. Hunter told me to meet her in room 320 at the Holiday Inn off exit 32 at exactly 8:20 p.m. Then she sashayed out of my office.
Gathering the money wasn’t difficult. I keep an emergency fund of $10 million tucked into safes and security deposit boxes around the city. I left the office early and made a couple of bank runs, stashing the money in a black brief case.
At the hotel, I knocked hard three times, precisely as instructed.
Ms. Hunter answered the door almost totally nude. She wore white, fishnet thigh-high stockings and six-inch heels without panties or a bra. A string of pearls hung between her luscious, round tits. Her bush was a neatly trimmed triangle of red hair. She didn’t seem to care that the door was wide open and anyone walking by could’ve seen her.
But Ms. Hunter wasn’t wasting any time.
“Get in here,” she said.
I stepped into the room. She slammed the door behind me.
“Put the money on the table,” Ms. Hunter said. “And strip off those clothes.”
She watched from the other side of the bed as I followed the instructions, setting down the brief case and sliding off my tie. Her hands were on her hips, and she was frowing.
“I’m going to enjoy humiliating the shit out of you,” she said.
I already had a chubby forming in my silk boxers. When I pulled them down, Ms. Hunter’s eyes slid down my body to my prick. Her frown turned into a smile.
“You’ve got a big cock,” she said, “for a sissy bitch.”
A ruckus suddenly rose in the neighboring room. Someone banged on the walls. A man yelled, “Allllriiiiight!”
Ms. Hunter banged on the door connecting the two rooms.
“Hey, take it easy in there!” she yelled.
The shrieks and banging quieted.
“What was that all about?” I asked. “Do they think they heard what you said about my cock?”
Ms. Hunter fixed me with a stern look. I froze. She slapped me across the face with her open palm. My cheek stung.
“Shut up, cunt!” she said. “You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.”
Ms. Hunter grabbed a pink bag sitting on the dresser. She emptied the contents on the bed.
“There’s your uniform, bitch,” she said. “Put it on.”
I started by strapping on the lacy, white bra. The under-wire cups pressed into my chest as I connected the hooks behind my back. I slid the straps up my arms. The cool fabric encased my tits. I was beginning to feel like a woman.
Ms. Hunter could tell, but she didn’t say anything. She just smiled and nodded approvingly.
I went for the boyshort panties next, sliding them up my legs. They fit fine. The elastic hugged my thighs and ass. The bottoms of my butt cheeks hung out the bottom. I arranged my stiff cock so that it was pointing straight up at my belly. The sensitive underside brushed against the lace every time I moved.
My outfit came with a pair of white thigh-high stockings exactly like the pair Ms. Hunter was wearing. I sat on the bed and slid them up my legs one at a time, careful not to tear them. I loved how they hugged my legs.
I finished off the outfit by sliding on a pair of six-inch stripper heels.
“Make-up time,” Ms. Hunter said. “Come with me.”
I followed her to the bathroom, stumbling a couple times in my new heels. Ms. Hunter patted the marble counter by the sink and said, ‘Lean here." I settled in.
Ms. Hunter did my make up, making me look like a whore with black eyeliner, red lipstick and gray eyeshadow. Her spearmint-scented breath filled my nostrils as she leaned in to paint my face. Then she slipped an auburn wig onto my head. I looked ready for the streets.
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“Now we’re ready for some fun,” she said. “Go stand in front of the bed.”
When she swung open the connecting door, a wall of manhood stood waiting. I never did find out how many guys were there, but it had to be at least a dozen. They looked horny and even a little angry. The horde came rushing at me in an irresistible wave. All of them had hard cocks needing to be serviced.
I was stunned. My heart leaped. I had no choice but to take care of them all.
The first guy through the door was a tall, lean athletic guy with dark hair. He rushed at me.
“On your knees, bitch,” he demanded.
Stunned, I dropped to the floor. He grabbed the sides of my head and poked his stiffy at my lips. I opened up. The guy forced his cock down my throat. I gagged as he buried my nose into his pubic hair. I struggled to inhale, but no wind came. The guy’s prick was blocking my windpipe. He pulled back quickly, and I took in air. The guy immediately rammed his stick back into my gullet.
“Watch the teeth, motherfucker,” he said.
I opened wider and let my throat relax, giving the guy nothing buy soft, wet flesh.
The face-fucking became smooth and rhythmic, as several other guys gathered around me to watch and jerk off. Somewhere on the other side of the room, a guy was saying, “Cum on his face, man! Cum on his face!”
And it suddenly happened.
One of the jerk-off guys let loose on my forehead. A cheer rose in the room as if the Giants had just scored a Super Bowl-winning touchdown. Jizz ran down my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. The athletic guy just kept pumping my lips with his cock.
It didn’t take long for the next guy to cum, or the one after him. They all blasted their loads on my face or in my hair. Each time a guy popped, a new guy moved to the front of the crowd.
The dark-haired guy finally gave one last thrust and let his junk fly in my mouth. It was a big load I could barely contain. When he pulled out, I still had the salty love juice between my cheeks.
“Show us,” the dark-haired guy said.
I tilted back my head and opened my mouth. I flipped my tongue a few times. Cum spilled out the corners of my mouth. The guys cheered.
A young surfer dude with long, blond hair stepped forward while furiously beating his cock. He took aim and fired. The first shot me hit me right in the eyes. I instinctively shut them. A few guys laughed. Some else shot a load. I felt it splatter between my tits.
All the while I held my mouth open with my head tilted back. Jizz pooled on my tongue Someone yelled, “Swallow it!”
I sealed my lips and let the cum slide down my throat. A roar rose in the room. Another big load splattered across my face.
I swelled with sweet humiliation. I loved it. I was the victim, totally out of control. My cock pulsated.
I never saw the next guy who shoved his cock in my mouth. But I know he smelled like Old Spice and came quick.
After swallowing his load, I wiped the cum out of my eyes with the back of my hand. The crowd had begun to thin. The guys who had shot their loads had moved back into the other room or were watching while slumped along the walls. Two college boys and an older guy beat their cocks while standing in a semi-circle around me. Another guy was up on the bed, fucking Ms. Hunter in the missionary position. She moaned as he glowered at her like a hungry lion. He suddenly threw back his head and gave one last thrust before cumming and rolling off of her.
He looked at me.
“Get up here,” he said breathlessly. “Fuck this bitch, sloppy seconds.”
I eased between Ms. Hunter’s legs as jizz dripped off of my face and onto her chest. The three beat-off guys followed me to Ms. Hunter’s side. Her face remained jizz-free. But just as I was easing my prick into her pussy, the older guy popped a shot across her face. He left a trail of sperm from her chin t her lips to an eyebrow. Ms. Hunter gazed up at me and slowly licked the cum off her lips.
I pumped her slowly. Her pussy walls were slick with another guy’s cum and her own juices. I could’ve shot immediately, but then I saw the two beat-off guys move in beside Ms. Hunter’s face. I wanted to jizz at the same time they did. One knelt on the bed. The other stood by the bedside. Both had their cocks aimed and were stroking hard.
I tightened my asshole and squeezed my eyes shut. A geyser of cum built inside me. I couldn’t hold it much longer.
I didn’t have to.
When I opened my eyes, the guys were firing their loads on Ms. Hunter’s face. I gave a final thrust and let myself go. My cock exploded into her cunt. Ms. Hunter seemed to love every second of it. She had her mouth open and her eyes closed. Cum covered her face. At least one shot had hit her in the mouth. A line of spunk slowly slid down her tongue.
No one had to tell me what to do next. With my still-stiff cock inside her pussy, I lowered my head and gave Ms. Hunter a long soul kiss. Our tongues played in the sperm like dolphins in the ocean until I pulled away to lick the jizz off her face.
I grabbed my trampled suit off the floor and went to the bathroom to clean up. When I came out, all the guys had gone back to the neighboring room. Sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed was a naked, familiar-looking blond woman. It was the one I’d met in Portland a few days earlier – the chick who shoved a dildo up her cunt while the two guys fucked me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She smiled and batted her eyelashes.
“Don’t you recognize me?” she asked.
It was Ms. Hunter with a wig on her head.
“What the fuck?” I asked.
She smiled.
“The hook-up in Portland was a set-up to get some dirt on you,” she said. “I’ll do anything to get a job done. Keep that in mind in case you ever need anything.
“I’m also a woman of my word. The only two copies of the video are in a bag in the closet. Also in the bag is a DVD movie of the man who ordered up your investigation. You’ll recognize him when you see him. The video shows him in an embarrassing position. You just might find it useful. If The Post ever got a hold of that film, they’d definitely find it useful.”
“So, that’s it?” I asked. “We just go our separate ways now?”
“No,” she said. “I’m altering the terms of the deal. We’re going to do this from time to time. You’re going to be my sex slave.”
“Yeah? Why should I?” I asked. “I have the tapes.”
“Yes, you do,” she said. “But I know what happened, and I have witnesses. And I know what buttons to push to make our liasons public. I may not be able to prove it with video, but I can make things awfully uncomfortable for you.”
She rose and moved in close, gently touching my chin.
“Besides,” she said softly, “Was it really that bad?”
I smiled.
“Thought so,” she said.
Then she slapped my cheek. Not hard, but just enough to sting.
“Now get the fuck out of here,” she said.
I let the door slam shut behind me. Then I got in my Mercedes and drove home at twice the speed limit.
Now, every time the phone rings, I secretly hope it’s Julia Hunter.
The End
Quote:
Originally Posted by
submarinez
Very nice stories… Had a good time catching up on your stories…
Welcome back bro submarinez , so where’s your stories ……kekekeke .
In The Middle Of The Garden
Thora Mae Wilson was quite possibly the most charming girl you could ever meet. She was small, standing at a whopping four foot eleven, a tiny frame with full b-cup breasts and a peachy backside. Her soft wavy black hair was past her shoulders with pretty side swept bangs that occasionally covered her big dark green eyes in a messy way. Then there was her creamy soft, fair skin. Most would expect her to be quite tan seeing as she was outdoors very much. It was hard to believe that she was twenty two, but she was just one of those rare girls who looked like they were years younger.
So her friends and family called her the garden girl. You see, she lived in a small cottage like house just outside the suburbs of Houston on its own. Alone on a big field if so. It looked like some mystical house you’d find in some fairytale! Covered in lush vines and shaded by tall oak trees. Surrounded by an abundance of flowers. Bright beautiful daises, tulips, roses and orchids. So many to list for that one colorful abode of hers.
Yet it was a mystery as to why she never decided to live in a big and ornate house downtown. She made a lot of trips to hang out with her friends at a few of the fine eateries, and matinees. She loved to shop and lavish herself with the cutest shoes and loveliest dresses you could ever find. Not to mention how much she liked just walking around the often-crowded streets of that wild city. It was a good guess that she was a stay at home…or not…wife. She was married and very happy but nobody had seen much of her husband since the small wedding they had a while back. And by that he must’ve been a hard worker because she always had money to spend.
On small occasions they would venture out on small dinner dates alone and go shopping afterwards. He would stroll through the isles with her tagged close by his side as he picked out pretty dresses for her. She, happily, had no say or choice but to try on whatever he chose for her to wear
She was his pretty little doll that he could dress up or dress down whenever he pleased.
The thing was, her friends never knew that Thora, their pretty, playful, witty and kind-hearted friend had been playing slave to her husband…or master, Jonathan.
Who knew such a sweet innocent looking girl would do such a thing?
When he married her, he truly and deeply was in love with her, but he couldn’t help that he loved to feel powerful, and she couldn’t help the fact that she loved to please and serve her man.
So the both of them kept the house that once just belonged to Thora, on an agreement that they would be getting good use out of that tranquil and lovely garden of hers.
- - -
So, it was a bright Thursday morning. Thora awoke to the sound of birds chirping in the yard. It was quite pleasant. As usual she turned over so see the other side of the bed empty. A thing that she didn’t mind.
She then eagerly sat up and reached over to the end of the big bed to find a note and her attire for the day.
She unfolded the piece of paper and read;
“Good morning beautiful! I hope you have a good day playing around the house. I’ll be home early, around three. I want you in that dress and out in the garden by the time I get there. –love, Master”
She felt goose bumps pop up around her body as she carefully folded the note back and set it down. She then grabbed the dress that was provided. It was a soft yellow baby-doll dress that came midway to her thigh. She smiled as she hopped off the bed and slipped it on to her naked body.
She loved the way the cotton felt on her skin and she adored the way it made her look adorable.
So her day started usual enough. She hummed as she made her way to the living room to see what was on the tellie. She looked over to the clock and was shocked to see that it was ten ’till one o’clock! “Oh my gosh did I sleep in THAT late!?” She gasped to herself. She was then reminded of the spanking session she got late last night for forgetting to have Jonathan’s warm shower ready.
There was nothing much to do seeing as the house was clean and the garden didn’t need any tending to today.
Suddenly, she heard a gurgling sound and looked at her stomach. “Guess I better get some food in there.” She sighed.
She trotted off to the kitchen to make her favorite, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
After she finished with making her lunch, she began putting the used butter knife in the sink, the peanut butter back in the pantry and the jelly back in the fridge. But knowing she was a bit clumsy, it wasn’t that easy. She picked up the jar of jelly but accidentally dropped it on the ground as the her two pet cats scurried by. The Sticky purple mess splattered all over the floor and on her dress.
“Oh NO!” she found not only the floor covered with the gooey purple jelly, but part of her dress too. The cats came rushing over to see what all the noise was about.
“Damn, I can’t have this messy dress on when he gets home!” She said as if the cats would listen and help.
She then rushed to the laundry room and stripped out of her dress and tossed it into the washer. With a little soap and the warm/cool setting, and a good while in the dryer, the stain would hopefully be gone and, things would be back in place. She would have the dress back on and would be in the garden with the dress back on all before Jonathan got home.
She put on another dress for the time being, and then grabbed the mop to clean up the mess. After cleanind up she was then satisfied, and grabbed her lunch and proceeded to sit on the comfy couch and eat.
She finished her sandwich and yawned.
Almost without a care in the world, she peacefully dozed off.
‘FHUMP!’
“OH CRAP!” Thora shouted as she was jolted awake when the sound of the door of her husband’s truck was slammed shut.
She got up and ran out the back door of her house and into the garden. She plopped down onto a patch of soft grass between a tall tree and a pretty row of daises in the middle of the garden. She hoped Jonathan wouldn’t notice her panting.
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“Hey baby, where are you?” He said almost happily. She heard the back door shut.
“Over here.” She meekly said.
“There’s my prett—” He stopped in front of her. She looked up with a smile only to see his not so cheerful face. “Your dress.” He said pointing downward.
Suddenly Thora felt her heart drop into her stomach.
“You have the nerve to smile at me, and DISSOBEY ME AT THE SAME TIME?” He gritted his teeth.
She suddenly felt cold. “I messed it up so I put it into the wash and I forgot-”
“You forgot?”
Thora looked into his icy blue eyes and gulped. With him standing at six foot two and about one hundred ninety pounds she felt very tiny. Suddenly looking at those strong arms, she didn’t think he’d be hugging her soon.
Her eyes began to water. Not From only being scared, but she was disappointed in herself that she managed to let her master down once again.
“I’m…I’m sorry master.” She childishly said.
“I thought I would come home to see you looking all pretty in the garden ready for me to fuck you. I thought I’d treat you to a little while of whatever YOU wanted. No master per say, but NO. YOU DECIDED TO MESS IT UP.” He looked furious. A small springtime breeze blew and brushed his face long dark brown hair onto his face. He brushed it back. “Stand up! I’ll really give you something to cry about!”
He pulled her close as if he were going to hug her. But alas he lifted up the old orange tunic dress and exposed her pantieless soft perky ass.
“Well at least you got one thing right.” He said.
With her face so close up against his chest she could hear his heartbeat, he slapped her ass.
‘THWAK!’
Thora whimpered like a baby.
‘THWAK!’
‘THWAK!’
“MAYBE THIS SHOULD TEACH YOU!”
‘THWAK!’
‘THWAK!’
Jonathan slapped harder and harder until the stinging pain hurt so much that Thora was full on reduced to tears. She had her arms wrapped around him like a scared child.
“LOOK AT ME!” He shouted and Thora obeyed as she stood back and shyly looked at him square in the face. “You did this to yourself, now you get your punishment. Yes we’ll stay out here in your pretty garden, but you better hope you’ll have enough energy to water these damn flowers when I’m through with you.”
Thora closed her eyes and nodded.
He pulled the straps down over her shoulders and slipped the dress off of her, exposing the rest of her petite naked body.
“ON YOUR KNEES NOW SLUT.”
Thora’s juicy tits jiggled as she dropped to her knees. She took to clue, and began to unbutton and unzip his jeans. She pulled them down along with his boxers revealing his plump, cum filled balls and his thick eight-inch cock.
Jonathan’s face was dark with anger - and yet, – and yet–, there was real love in his gaze as he looked down at her. He tenderly brushed Thora’s lovely dark hair away from her face as she winced in fear. His hard steel-blue eyes met her soft dark-green eyes with a gaze that chained her heart. He reached sideways and plucked a daisy, then placed it behind Thora’s ear. Thora smiled, almost forgetting her fear.
‘THWACK.’ Jonathan’s thick cock slapped against her face.
“PAY ATTENTION! "
‘THWACK, THWACK, THWACK!’
Jonathan held the base of his cock in his right hand, wielding it as a club, cock-slapping Thora’s delicately pretty face.
“I take care of you completely, and you are my property to use! And I am going to make sure you don’t forget that again! – Now SUCK, you little cock-sucking slut! "
Thora gave the broad shield head of his member a playful kiss, but her Master was having none of that! He seized her chin in his wide, powerful left hand, forcing her mouth to open, pushed his hips forward, and guiding his dick head past Thora’s pouty lips with his right hand. Despite the confusion of emotions she felt, Thora was careful not to let her teeth graze Jonathan’s cock, for she feared what the punishment would be for that mistake! She began obediently to suck in earnest. Jonathan grabbed her hair with his left hand, his right hand placed firmly behind Thora’s head controlling her cock-sucking rhythm as he face-fucked her. Yes, Thora had given her husband oral pleasure many times before, but this was different - the thought burned in her consciousness: ‘I am being face-fucked! This is not just my husband, this is my Master!’
Jonathan’s cock was going deeper into her mouth with every stroke. Thora felt the broad head press against the back of her throat, she was beginning to gag, when Jonathan pulled back. All her life she would remember the cool fresh air she gasped, the glimpse of a butterfly gathering nectar from the blue-bells across the garden, - and Jonathan’s thick eight inch manhood waving stiff and erect, the sunlight reflecting brightly off the length of his cock, so slick, shining with her saliva.
Quickly Jonathan spread her dress on an old bale of straw nearby (Angry as he was, still he did not want to scratch her lovely, glowing skin!) He roughly picked her up under the arms, - lifting her off the ground -turned, and half pushed; half threw Thora belly-down on the bale of straw.
“Keep your ankles together!” he warned.
Jonathan straddled the bale, his powerful, muscular thighs, thick as tree-trunks on either side of Thora’s hips. Thora felt her Master’s hands grasp the cheeks of her ass, pulling them apart. She sensed Jonathan leaning over, awkwardly at first, his cock head probing, seeking her pussy mouth. Then she felt the head of his member forcing her cunt lips apart as Jonathan placed his hands at the top of the bale and pushed down with his hips hard …“Keep your thighs pressed tight together , you got that, bitch?!”
Thora’s pussy resisted Jonathan’s cock as it penetrated her love-hole. His thick cock had stretched her pussy on their wedding night like Thora’s pussy had never been stretched before – But, oh, god! Now she felt every millimeter of his manhood as it plowed forward forcing her cunt to accept his manhood – She felt his goose-egg balls rest against her ass cheeks as he pressed down hard with his hips, forcing her pussy to accept all eight inches of his manhood. He moved his hands to her shoulders, pinning her down hard, as he rocked his hips back and forth in a brutal, frenzied animal fucking. Needless to say Thora was afraid, where was her loving husband, Jonathan? But she knew that she must accept Jonathan as her Master, she knew she needed to be his slave…
“Yes, please, I love you, - Master - I want you to fuck me as hard as you can, please, please just fuck me …” Thora gasped.
As cool and breezy the spring air was, Jonathan was almost working up a sweat as he pounded roughly into her tight love hole. Thora’s whimpers and moans were loud and her eyes were almost rolling to the back of her head.
Her tears subsided but her eyes remained glazed.
There was no doubt that she wished she hadn’t messed up. She would’ve loved to have him softly kiss her all over and gently caress her soft skin. To be held in his strong arms and have the scruffiness of his beard rub against her neck as he breathed her in would certainly make her happy enough to never forget anything.
It could have been clouds and bunnies, instead it was spanking and the sore feeling you get on your head after your hair is pulled too hard.
Suddenly she felt her stomach tighten and her thighs tense. Her warm cunt began to tighten and Jonathan could certainly feel it. He pulled his thick and throbbing cock out and took a few deep breaths. Thora suddenly felt emptiness in her.
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He pulled her up into a sitting position and took one look at her sweet face.She was sniffling a little still, that was what almost melted his heart. He leaned over and kissed her forehead and gently cupped her right breast. He loved how it filled his hand perfectly.
But at this point, he didn’t want to give in.
“Thora, my beautiful slave…” He said quietly but with sternness in his voice. “How are you ever going to get what you want if you keep messing up? It’s very unacceptable.”
“I’m so sorry Jon—I mean Master.“Thora sadly said sitting still afraid that one move would make him angry again.
“I know. But as your Master, I can’t go against my word. You still have your punishment. You still have to learn to submit to my every demand.” Thora looked into those eyes of his and almost began to cry again. She thought that the hard fucking and failure to obtain release was it.
What exactly was her punishment going to be? She wasn’t exactly excited to know.
“Thora, I think you really don’t know what it means to be a slave. My slave at that” Jonathan said as he looked at her.
If there was ever a time Thora had been scared of Jonathan it was now. What took place next surprised her…and scared her to the point her stomach felt like it was being boiled.
“All fours. Now.” Jonathan calmly said.
“But Master wha—”
“DON’T PROCROSTINATE, I SAID ALL FOURS NOW.“Jonathan’s voice was like thunder.
Thora slowly got on all fours and closed her eyes, expecting a good hour of hard slaps to the ass.
Jonathan saw what he had been waiting for, a chance to fully make Thora his own. Her soft pert as was enough to make his shoot his load right then and there. But he was an expert at keeping himself controlled. He rested his hands on her cheeks and gently began to knead them. Thora whimpered.
“Oh don’t you worry I wont be spanking you.” Jonathan said as he slid his index finger up and down her crack.
Thora gasped.
In the middle of that garden, on that soft patch of lush grass, surrounded by the rainbow of flowers she had never felt so fearful. She was scared. If spanking wasn’t it, then what was? Was he…was he actually going to…?
Then her thoughts were interrupted when she felt her Master’s warm tongue slide across her delicious pink star. Her heart skipped a beat and she almost forgot how to breathe. She felt his tongue slowly slither up, down, across and all around her asshole. Then it delved into her chute lovingly. He deeply plunged in and out scaring Thora speechless.
She didn’t know weather to be scared, or excited.
Jonathan felt her ass tighten and it made his cock even harder. He quickly got up, spat in his hand and generously lubed up his member. Then without warning, he pressed his cock against her asshole and pushed.
Thora realized that this was it. Her biggest fear had come through. She looked up and felt the soft breeze blow against her face. The sound of the wind chimes echoed throughout the area. This was definitely not a place to be punished like that. So she screamed and cried out to stop him, but Jonathan was having none of that.
“THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING UP!” He gritted as he grabbed hold of her sweet, curvy waist. With heavy force he slammed his dick up her ass.
Tears streamed out of Thora’s eyes. She had never been in such a situation. She wriggled and pleaded but there was no way that he would give up. So that was it. Thora felt so incredibly full. There was no way to back down now, and then as he pounded almost brutally into her ass, she came to the shocking realization that she was no longer Thora now. She was forcefully now her Master’s own. As she heard his deep moans and felt his thick cock plunge in and out deeply she knew that this was no longer punishment. Jonathan was enjoying the feeling of analy deflowering her, and the thought of that imeadeatly turned her on.
She was Thora Mae Wilson, Wife and slave to Master and husband Jonathan Draven Wilson.
She felt loved. And oddly enough through the pain, she loved him enough to submit every inch of herself to him.
“MASTER, Please—please I love you master. FUCK MY ASS!” Thora cried out.
Jonathan smiled in ecstasy. Her tight ass, her begging, and the fact that she was beginning to enjoy this made him grin with delight. Sure this was it, deflowering her anal virginity was turning into something great. He reached under and rested his hand on her abdomen, loving the fact that he could slightly feel his large cock prodding around in her insides as he slapped in and out. He felt her tighten up and decided that this was punishment enough.
With almost a lethal force, Jonathan’s cock squirted out his load, shot after shot of his warm gooey cream made its way into Thora’s tender ass. Thora felt it and gave in not fearing what would happen after. She felt an amazing orgasm rip through her body. Her moans and screams were so high pitched the residents down the road could’ve heard her. Love fluids gushed out of her pretty pussy.
Jonathan pulled out of her and with her arms feeling like jelly she plopped down on the grass.
Jonathan couldn’t help but feel loved as he watched his beautiful slaves little body shiver from a few aftershocks as she lied there.
No words could be said as he picked her up and cradled her in his arms and carried her across the garden towards a sturdy but comfy hammock.
He gently laid her down, admiring her tender body. He laid down next to her closely.
She squirmed a little and blushed as she felt his cum begin to leak out of her asshole. She looked at Jonathan and giggled softly.
Jonathan almost felt bad. Granted Thora’s ass must’ve been throbbing now but she was brave enough to take him.
The tree branches swayed in the cool spring air and the sun shined through almost as if its soft rays were setting themselves to shine only on Thora.
“Well…I guess we should get to that laundry…” Thora nervously said, breaking the peaceful silence.
Jonathan smirked. “At this point we don’t need to worry about the clothes.” He smiled placing a gentle kiss on her delicate lips.
Thora felt safe as he wrapped his arms around her. “I love you…master.”
Jonathan felt like a king after those words escaped her lips. Holding her close and kissing her again he whispered “I love you Thora.”
Sweetly, in the noon and in that garden, the sweet little garden girl and her strong and powerful husband drifted off lovingly.
The End
Dressing Room Exposure
This story takes place when Sue was 24 years old. We had been dating for a year. We were at the mall when she decided to look for a new bathing suit. It was May and Sue was looking forward to going to the beach that summer.
I knew that Sue loved to sunbathe in her backyard or at the beach with the least amount of clothing. I also knew that if it were up to her and if she could get away with it, she probably would sunbathe nude. Since we lived in a conservative town and there was no place to sunbathe nude, the next best thing would be a sexy bathing suit.
Sue led me to a small shop where there were all kinds of one and two piece bathing suits that ranged from the very modest to the very revealing. I followed her to the bikini section where she picked out a couple of skimpy string bikinis. Then I followed her to the back of the shop to a dressing room where she could try them on.
The dressing room had an unusual set up. There were three booths, each with their own curtain. Each booth had a mirror facing the entrance of the changing area. Anyone who wanted to could see each booth from outside the dressing room.
Sue told me, “Wait here while I try these on.”
Sue went into the first booth and pulled the curtain. However, I noticed that she had not closed the curtain completely. Sure, she had closed it enough so that no one could directly see her, but the way the mirror was and the way the curtain was open, I could see her in the mirror taking her clothes off. I assumed that Sue did not realize that she could be seen.
I noticed that there was a guy who, like me, was waiting outside of the dressing room while his girlfriend was also trying on clothes. They appeared to be an attractive couple in their early twenties. From the place where the young man was standing, he had an even better view of Sue than I did. I could see his girlfriend take off her blouse because she did not have her curtain completely closed either. I could see the girl in her bra, but it was the other guy who got the real treat.
I watched as Sue took off her blouse and bra. She was topless and both I and the stranger could see everything. Her tits stood up in the air and they were so beautiful! I glanced at the young man and I could tell that he was staring intently at Sue’s naked tits in the mirror.
I thought maybe I should say something to Sue, but I couldn’t very well shout to her to cover up. It was a little late now and, besides, I couldn’t blame the guy for staring at her. If his girlfriend were standing there topless and if her tits were as beautiful as Sue’s, I’m sure I would be staring at her too.
Sue continued to perform this delightful strip tease, unaware that she was being observed. She took off her shoes and jeans and had nothing on except for her white panties.
I glanced at the young voyeur, avoiding eye contact. He was staring at Sue’s reflection in the mirror. His face appeared red. He also appeared a little nervous, occasionally glancing around, as if he didn’t want to get caught in public doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. It was obvious that he was getting very turned on.
By this time my cock was very stiff! I was getting very turned on by the thought that this stranger could see my girlfriend completely naked without her realizing it.
Sue came out of the dressing room for a moment and stood facing me in a blue bikini.
She asked me, “How do I look?”
She did look very sexy except for one problem. Sue was wearing white cotton panties under the bikini bottom!
The blue bikini bottom was very skimpy with strings that tie on each side. It didn’t leave very much to the imagination. Sue looked even more exposed and erotic wearing those white panties underneath the bikini. Of course, I didn’t tell her that.
I told her, “How can I tell you how you look when you are wearing those panties under the bikini?”
She said, “I’m wearing them because of sanitary reasons.”
I said, “Well, you look ridiculous! Take them off!”
I noticed that the young man was looking at Sue and that he also could see her panties under the bikini bottoms. He was smiling. I think he heard what I had said to her.
Sue went back into the dressing room and proceeded to take the white panties off. I observed that the young man was standing there watching her. I could see Sue as she paused to glance in the mirror. She stood there bottomless. Her observer could see her naked pussy and her bottom! It was obvious to me that he was getting quite a show. I’m sure he had an erection. I know that I did.
I watched in the mirror as Sue put on the bikini bottoms. She looked in the mirror again to admire the fit. She adjusted the strings once more. She brushed her hair.
Finally, Sue came back out of the dressing room. She modeled the blue bikini for me and asked me what I thought.
I said, “That’s much better now that you don’t have those silly looking panties on. You look very nice.”
Finally, Sue decided on a bathing suit and got dressed. When she came out of the dressing room, she smiled at the young man.
I said to Sue, “You know, you left the curtain open and that guy could see you getting undressed.”
Sue kissed me and replied, “Yes, I know. I could see him in the mirror looking at me.”
I realized then that Sue knew that the guy was watching her all along and that she deliberately let him see her. She enjoyed being the exhibitionist and I found myself getting very turned on by the idea of another man seeing my girlfriend without any clothes on.
The End
The Politeness of Strangers
Beguilingly and bewilderingly polite. This was my first impression.
A soft-spoken and courteous person by nature, his initial enquiries about me were very cordial, and carefully structured. In addition to the fact that English was not his mother tongue, which i could tell was restricting him slightly in how he expressed himself, he was obviously also uncomfortable in expressing his desires verbally. And, apparently, unused to dirty talk or profanity.
Or so I thought.
Maybe it’s a xenophobic trait within me that should be stamped out like a burning scrap of paper. But the northern European accent that colored his English so prettily invoked a very polite and well-mannered attitude and impression… which was hard to gel with the disgracefully depraved way in which I like to cavort.
Suffice it to say that I presume way too much.
For this particular blind date, pictures had been exchanged. By the handful. We’d recognized each other immediately from aforementioned photos, through the steam of a Saquella espresso machine in the corner of a seductively warm cafe on a blustery cold and wintry evening. The lights outside along the sea front danced brightly, giving a false impression of cheeriness, but there was nothing cheery about the biting wind outside. We had, however, done our best to banish any last vestige of cold by both ordering wine – red for him, mulled with a stick of fresh cinnamon for me. We looked at each other, and smiled… and I was wondering how to broach a subject somewhat less conventional than the severity of the weather, when he took my hand and placed it on his thigh.
No words really necessary after all. Especially not when i ran my finger deliberately slowly over the growing bulge on his inner thigh.
(I’m wet just at the thought of it, as I write.)
He leaned into me and whispered politely “I need to fuck you, the sooner, the better. Can we go?”
The next few minutes were a blur of giggles, and bill-paying, and urgency, and hands clasped tightly, and half-walking, half-running to his place, only a short block away from the cafe. Formalities that had seemed to worryingly important had all but been dispensed with as we collapsed through the door, and into each other.
At first, we hugged and held each other very close, our hands roaming, and divesting each other of our accumulated layer of clothing. Once we were suitably scantily attired, he paused, and took my chin in his hand, lifting my face to kiss him.
Dear god, but he could kiss. My knees nearly buckled.
The passion intensified, and not breaking from the kiss, he managed to remove my remaining articles of clothing. Lacy panties in a puddle on the floor, where they had fallen after he’d given them a sharp, commanding tug. Matching lacy bra strewn halfway across the room, where I’d find it much, much later, decorating a very good reproduction of Guernica. All i wore were knee high socks, and tall, black, leather cowboy boots, which despite their heel, brought me not very close to his height at all (he had to bend to kiss me, but he didn’t seem to mind).
So i was naked but for the boots, which put me in mind of another occasion, and he was barefoot, in jeans, with a button fly with which I’d been struggling until he began kissing me. Once he’d started the kiss, it distracted me enough that I’d kind of concentrated just on that.
His giant-like gentleness was short-lived. He finally broke from my lips, and somehow twirled me in a circle until i was held tight with his arm, but bent over it, with my side against his muscular but softly fuzzy stomach. He almost lifted me in order to get me into position, nudging my arms up and onto the desk, where i rested, facing down, leaning on my forearms and elbows. He slowly stroked my back with his hands; long, relaxing strokes that discombobulated me so much that when he landed me a massive blow to the buttocks, i jumped.
“Stay still,” he commanded, still very polite, but unarguably firm.
I do what I’m told, me.
I felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over me, his cock nudging against my ass, as his hands explored me. He left one hand stroking my body, holding it inches from the surface of the desk, and used the other to draw an imaginary line from my cunt to the end of my ass. All the way, in one slick and slippery stroke.
I gasped. His fingers were strong and probing, and still cold from the inclement weather outside. I wasn’t complaining.
Slowly, deliberately slowly, he started to stimulate me, his whole hand probing, touching, encircling and teasing. This was a touch unlike any I’d previously encountered, and the heady feeling with which it left me had me reeling. In a good way. In moments he brought me to a surprisingly thundersome climax, leaving me wet, spent and thoroughly slippery. As i leaned on my forearms and panted to get my breath back, I heard the crackle of a foil wrapper, then the unzipping of his jeans, followed by the soft sound of denim hitting carpet.
Then politeness left the building once and for all. He grabbed me, hard, but not ungently, spread my legs apart, and held me still with my face on the table; then swiftly, smoothly entered me with a single thrust and no fumbling. His cock felt like solid steel as it entered me and he made sure i could feel how hard he wanted, or needed to fuck me.
“Spread those legs more, baby… yes!” As he pumped.. and pumped.
He grunted, I moaned.
He sweated, drops of moisture falling onto my back. One hand twisted in my hair, pulling it but not yanking my head. Thrust. Fuck. Pump. Push.
“God yes. Yes. Fuck me. Fill me. Yes.”
Harder. Faster. Harder still… faster still…
He grunted his intentions like a mantra.
“Fuck that cunt, that soft sweet cunt, going to fuck it harder than it’s ever been fucked. Fill your cunt. Yes? You want that, baby? Yes?”
In my head, I drifted away on a cloud of spaced-out bliss; the physical not matching the mental. I was in full physical submission, restrained by his strong hand, and his deliberately thrusting body; yet my body gladly accepted, even welcomed the hard furious fucking it was receiving.
Somewhere far away, I heard myself wail… softly at first but growing gradually stronger and more shrill. I could sense the pink light of orgasm approaching as he kept pounding my g-spot until i gushed, my mind afloat in ecstasy, my cunt awash with girlie-cum. It didn’t stop him. Rather, it increased the intensity of his fucking and the depth of each push into me. I felt my body slide forward across the desk, skater-like on a film of sweat. Astonishing really, since such a short while ago I’d felt so cold i couldn’t stand still, and now i was perspiring.
Since i was now sated, regrouping after the orgasm, i could concentrate on his pleasure more fully. I pushed back onto him, using my sweat-aided leverage. I tried to do my kegels as he fucked me, only succeeding some of the time since he was by now pumping hard and very fast.
“Yessss!” With a shout, he came, holding me tightly by the shoulder and hair.
Not quite so polite, after all. But a pleasure to know.
The End
Claimed
Vanessa Roland stood in front of the kitchen window, the dishes still only half done in the sink, and decided that a good cry was in order. The tears were spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them, anyway. They wouldn’t have cared whether or not she thought they were in order.
Outside the window, she could see mountains in the distance, and half a dozen big black cows chewing on alfalfa much closer. In her own backyard. How had she gotten here? It wasn’t fair.
She missed the city. She missed her friends. She missed movies and shopping and good restaurants. She missed clean nails and hair that wasn’t pulled up in a utilitarian ponytail.
She didn’t want to be a farmer’s wife. Especially when the farmer wasn’t really a farmer. Carl had a business to run. The ranch was his childhood dream, and he was content to come home to it on weekends and spend his weeks in the city. Vanessa hadn’t decided how to confront the fact that she knew that the apartment he rented was for more than sleeping and showering.
She allowed herself a gulping, hiccupping sob as she remembered the voice that had answered his phone earlier in the week. The very young feminine voice.
And now she was stuck here, in this god awful place, far from everything and everyone that she loved. And she didn’t even have a faithful husband. It just wasn’t fair.
“Mrs. Roland? Are you here?”
Vanessa was torn from her self-indulgent cry. She turned off the water, wiped her hands on the floral apron she’d found in the back of one of the kitchen drawers when they moved in, and walked to the door. Her face was red and blotchy. She knew that without looking in a mirror, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
The man standing on her front porch looked like he’d walked out of someone’s cowboy fantasy. Tall, leanly muscular, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, boots and a cowboy hat. The brim threw his face into shadow. “Can I help you?”
He took his hat off with one hand and held it near his hip. “I’m Jackson Anderson. Your husband asked me to come by and check on you, make sure you didn’t need anything while he was gone.”
“He did?” Had Carl seen this man? His face was amazing. Strong bones, startlingly light eyes, skin that had been weathered by the sun. His hair was dark, and matching stubble colored his cheeks. She wanted to run her hands over his face. She fisted them in her apron instead.
“My farm is down the road. Your husband hired me to take care of his cattle during the week.”
Vanessa raised her eyebrows, anger bubbling up again. “Cattle? Including his wife, huh?”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what I am to him. A fucking cow that he owns and keeps tucked away during the week, to play with on his days off.”
“Mrs. Roland, I—”
“My name is Vanessa.”
“Vanessa. You need to take a breath, honey. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
She felt it. She leaned against the door jam and tried to do as he said. He took her by the arm and ushered her into her living room. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ve met your husband.”
A slow blush spread over Vanessa’s face. “He’s not that bad…he just—”
“He’s not that good.”
What had Carl said the last time she caught him cheating on her? “It doesn’t mean anything. He just needs things that I can’t give him.”
“Can’t?”
“It doesn’t usually bother me so much. When we lived in the city, I had things to distract me. Now all I have is the damn cows.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a sob.
Jackson led her to the couch, and she sat, looking up at him. He had a really good mouth. Amazing mouth. A complete foil for the hardness of the rest of his face. “I can’t imagine what he’s getting somewhere else that he couldn’t have right here.”
Vanessa didn’t know how to explain it. Or why she would even consider trying to explain the sexual component of her marriage to a stranger. “He loves me.”
Jackson sat next to her. Close to her, so that she could feel the summer sun that had stored its energy in him while he stood outside. She thought he was going to argue with her. Instead he reached one big hand out and smoothed it over her hair. His fingers caught in the clasp holding it back into a ponytail, and he tugged at it.
Her hair fell over her shoulders and halfway down her back in a mess of neglected honey blonde curls. Jackson dug his fingers into it, his hands cupping the back of her head, and lowered his face until his perfect mouth covered hers.
His kiss was hot, demanding. He held her head, and tilted her face up to him. Her lips parted for his tongue. He moved one hand down to her waist and tugged her into his lap.
“Wait a minute.” She leaned back, but settled her legs around him instead of getting off his lap. “I can’t do this.”
He reached for her again, this time his thick fingers moved with surprising grace over her dress buttons. She tried to breathe as he undid them to her waist. His fingertips brushed against her bare skin and took her breath away.
Work-roughened hands slip over her shoulders, under her dress, and eased the soft, light cotton down until from the waist up all she wore was a white cotton bra. He bent his head and kissed her neck, sending a rush of heat to her core.
She felt good for the first time in so long that it was impossible to try very hard to stop Jackson. He slipped his thumbs under her bra straps and tugged on them until they hung loose over her shoulders. His kiss moved from her neck down one shoulder as his fingers flicked open the clasp between her breasts.
Her full breasts spilled out of their confinement, and a low, deep growl rumbled through Jackson. She had the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen. Carl Roland was the biggest fool he’d ever heard of. If this woman were his, he would never let another man near her, much less hire one to make sure she was happy while he worked in the city and screwed little girls who were less than half the woman his wife was.
Her body was like a luscious gift. Her waist was narrow under his hands as he bent forward and sucked one of her berry-sized nipples into his mouth. Her hips were full and round in his lap, and they tilted forward as she reacted to his pull on her nipple.
“Please—” Vanessa wasn’t sure what she was asking for. More, or for him to stop. His fingers plucked the nipple he wasn’t sucking, and she slid her hips forward until she felt his cock through his jeans against her pussy. The bulge was startlingly large and hard. “Please.”
He pulled harder on her nipple, his teeth biting into the tender flesh, and the spark of pain was like a livewire to her clit. She felt her panties dampening as her body responded violently to him. She put her hands to the back of his head, letting her fingers tangle in his black hair.
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