My Place in Life

 

01

The lift had broken, that was how it all started again, many years ago, when I was just nineteen. My first job had been with a builder’s merchant, shifting bags of cement, packs of bricks and timber, nothing that could be purchased there was lightweight it seemed. At nineteen I was a wimp, no doubt about it, skinny, almost to the point of emaciation, by twenty-one I was almost a hunk. That though is two years further on than I want to tell you about right now, so I will go back again, back to the year I turned nineteen, the year that, with the help of a loan from my father, I moved into my own place, a flat on the fifth floor of a block where the lift kept breaking down!

 

~*~

 

It had been a hard day, a local firm had ordered all the small red bricks to pave the driveways of their new, exclusive, eighteen house estate from us and I had been one of the three men moving them from our yard to their lorries. All I wanted to do now was collapse into a nice hot bath and then watch TV or maybe videos for the rest of the evening. I’d stopped at the fish and chip shop on the way home so I didn’t have to cook.

 

The sign hanging from the call button on the front of the lift had been adorned with graffiti. Where the official printing of ‘Out of Order’ finished someone had added ‘Again’ in a flowing hand. I could only nod in exhausted agreement with their sentiment as I placed one foot in front of the other and prepared to climb the ten flights to my own front door.

 

As I reached the third landing I saw her. She was older than me, maybe thirty, thirty-five, slim, tall, easily five-ten, or even five-eleven, her hair was what my sister, or one of them, would have called mouse. Brown but nothing special, apparently, although I thought it was wonderful. I thought she was wonderful also, we didn’t meet each other very often but every time we did my heart would beat faster, my brain would shut down and, although I was incredibly aroused, I never really knew why. This time though she looked at me as I passed and, for the first time, to my surprise, I managed to stutter out a ‘hi, flaming lift,’ or something similar. She just nodded but then smiled, her eyes softening, I saw her whole face soften in fact, and then it was gone, and so was she, opening her own door and disappearing inside.

 

The other four flights of stairs seemed to pose no problems and soon I too was inside my own flat, kicking my dust covered shoes off in the front hall and heading straight for the bathroom to put the equally dust encrusted clothes into the laundry basket. When I was naked I stepped into the shower, too excited now for a bath and, as the hot water pummelled my back, pumped my hard cock, bringing myself to the point of orgasm and then denial three times before turning the dial back to off and stepping out onto the blue foot shaped mat that lay in front of the shower cubicle door.

 

~*~

 

Maybe, to understand why I was so captivated by Susan, her name was Susan; I need to move back in time. I know my past is important to my present and hopefully my future and so I should explain a little about who, and what, I am before we get any deeper into this story.

 

My name is Martin, some people call me Mart, even Tinny, but never, ever, Marty, I hate that. I’m in my mid thirties now, but then, at nineteen, I was just starting to discover that what I wanted and needed in my life was linked permanently to my formative years between sixteen and eighteen. I am the youngest of five children, and the only boy, I’m also a twin. My mother and father were, to say the least, a little surprised when mum fell pregnant again, even though my dad is a doctor. My sisters ranged in age between five and eight on the day of our birth and from that April onwards I had four mothers and one, not very often at home, father.

 

Over the years I was, I have to admit, a spoilt rotten mamma’s boy. My mother, so I discovered later, had always wanted a son, although at forty-six, when I was born, she had also long given up the idea of having one and was waiting for grandchildren instead. My sisters, on the other hand, suddenly found that dolls do come to life and, as long as I did as I was told, my every day existence was very pleasant, disobey though and things change, rapidly.

 

I’m not sure of the exact age, but I can remember, long before I headed off for nursery school, that if I displeased any of my three elder sisters I would be put over their knee and become the recipient of, from little girls at least, a sound thrashing. These carried on well into my teens, as, for a long time, I was the smallest in the family, even though I was a boy. They convinced me to keep my hair fairly long as well, and I have to confess there was a lot of pleasure to be had just by sitting still and letting them comb it, curl it, even plait it.

 

As I got older, my twin sister, Martha and Fiona, the sister closest to us in age, began to become interested in me in ways other than that of someone to tease, punish or pamper. Fiona, who was very, very clever, top set everything she set her mind to, seemed to realize, when I hit sixteen to her twenty-one, that I could be of use to her. I heard her talking with the only other sister still at home, Martha, who was, as she loved to tell anyone who would listen, five minutes older than me. She was also, blossoming, just like I was, although obviously in different places.

 

My mother and father had announced, on our sixteenth birthdays to be exact, that Martha and I were now old enough to be left on our own over the weekend, especially if Fiona was home too. They joined a holiday club which gave discounts to some of the best hotels in the country and most Friday evenings saw them loading up their red MG sports car and heading out in one direction or another leaving me, to the delight of my sisters, the only male in the house.

 

The first weekend, a fortnight after we turned sixteen, was a turning point in my life, not that I knew it at the time. The three of us stood by the front door waving our parents off, a slip of paper on the phone table behind us, should we need, in a dire emergency only, to contact them. Looking back, fire, flood or, at a pinch, death would have been the only emergencies to get them to return early, none of those happened and so they never saw what went on behind their own closed doors.

 

Fiona and Martha had been having little conflabs all week, which would stop, or turn into fits of giggles, if I happened along. Now I was about to find out what they had been talking about.

 

“So, Martin, Martha and I think we need to discuss how these weekends are going to be run.” Fiona had her arms folded, a stern look on her face, and for some reason my heart began to race.

 

“O … ok,” I gulped the word out, my head dropping into a submissive position without me even realizing it.

 

“That’s ‘ok, Miss Fiona,’ from now on.” Her voice made her sound like a schoolteacher and without looking up I spoke again.

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona.”  I was used to being told what to do, I was regularly ordered about but somehow this time it was different, more charged than usual. I didn’t know why but although I felt about three inches tall, which was also usual, I felt excited as well, my hands were clammy and I moved them behind me so that my sisters wouldn’t realize.

 

“We have decided that if you want us to continue being nice to you, then you will have to be extra nice to us in return. This means you do the cooking, the cleaning, all the things mum does, and then we will make sure you don’t get lonely over the weekend. Do you understand?”

 

I didn’t, but had a feeling that wasn’t a good answer.

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona. What do you want me to do first?”

 

What they wanted me to do was make the Friday tea. Mum had left all the ingredients for a spaghetti bolognaise, not out of a jar as she would do these days, but individual bits and pieces that, if put together correctly, should feed the three of us very nicely indeed.

 

Looking back, it’s a good thing I was in charge of the tidying up as well as the cooking. No one would have wanted to follow me into that kitchen. Gradually though, as the weekends went on, I became much tidier and far more expert, even changing the suggested menu and surprising my sisters.

 

For about the first six months I was just a lackey. I did everything I was told and in return I was cuddled, had my hair played with, sometimes Miss Fiona would even rub my shoulders when I was free from my chores. I didn’t mind any of the things that were happening, in fact I looked forward to the moment when the little red car would disappear from view and my sisters took over my care.

 

When things began to get a little more serious I didn’t question it, instead I realized there was no other way for our arrangement to move on, and I was happy with that. The Friday Miss Martha told me there would be a few changes was in September, it was pouring with rain and we had just turned the heating on for the first time since the late spring.

 

“Come here, boy.” She enjoyed that name more than anything I think, it emphasized her elder sister status every time she used it.

 

“Yes, Miss Martha.” I had been heading towards the kitchen to begin the dinner but now I turned and walked into the living room behind my sisters instead.

 

“Stand there, on the rug, we have things to tell you.”

 

I nodded at my twin, the excitement for some reason rushing through my veins, even though I had no idea what she was going to say.

 

“First of all, we are delighted at the way you have behaved over the summer, your food is wonderful, the house is always tidy when mum and dad get home, in fact you have exceeded our expectations for you.”

 

I just beamed, I wanted to cry, my heart was pounding, I managed to keep still, but it was difficult. The praise was more than I had ever expected, and I babbled my own response, although now, all these years later, I have no recollection of what I actually said.

 

“We are a little disappointed in your appearance though.”

 

The words brought me back to earth with a bump, they weren’t happy, all the food, the tidying up, the being there for them wasn’t enough, I had let them down.

 

“I’m … I’m sorry, Miss Martha. How can I change things so I please you in everything I do?”

 

With hindsight I can see that they were, very cleverly, whether they realized it or not, increasing their hold and influence over me and I was more than ready to let them.

 

“First of all, whenever mum and dad are away you will no longer wear a top.” Miss Fiona got to her feet as she spoke and moved towards me, causing me to back up towards the door double quick.

 

“What?” The one word was a squeak and I subconsciously grabbed hold of the hem of my t-shirt, not wanting anyone to touch it.

 

“Let go!”

 

I did, I had no power to refuse her and from that moment on, until changes were made again, I was bare chested the entire time our parents were on their little jaunts.

 

“Good grief, there’s more meat on Ralph!” My older sister laughed as she spoke and I looked down, tears clouding my eyes. Ralph was my father’s skeleton. A bone specialist at the local hospital he sometimes worked in his study at home on papers for various medical publications and Ralph was his constant, if silent, companion.

 

“He’s quite sweet really, but I have to say you’re right. Lift your arms.” Miss Martha moved a little closer to me as well and I did as I was told. “At least he has hair underneath his arms. He has hairy legs too, I see him playing football on a Thursday afternoon in PE.”

 

I may as well have not been there; they discussed my physical attributes for a good five minutes without actually taking any notice of me at all. Then Miss Fiona looked at her watch, slapped me lightly on the chest and sent me off to make the dinner.

 

Again things went on like that for quite a while but the two of them were clearly enjoying my discomfort and I knew, before long, they would call me before them again.

 

It was the first anniversary of our being home alone when the next major humiliation occurred and this time they both began to realize I was enjoying myself as much as, if not more than, they were.

 

My sisters were now seventeen and twenty-two, Miss Fiona was, in my eyes a beautiful woman, and Miss Martha was too. My twin and I were in the sixth form of our school and could wear our own clothes rather than the school uniform we had suffered for the previous five years. As I stood in my usual place on the circular rug I could see that Miss Martha’s white shirt and her PE skirt were on the coffee table in front of them.

 

“As much as we’ve enjoyed looking at your chest over the past few months we have begun to think that it might not be awfully hygienic to have you cooking with your little nipples on show.” Miss Fiona reached out and pinched both brown nubs as she spoke and I felt myself blush and willed the stirring in my groin to go away.

 

“No, Miss Fiona.”

 

“Instead, we have a set of clothes for you to wear. You will need to make sure they are clean and ironed every Friday so that you can slip into them as soon as mum and dad leave. If they aren’t, well then, you know what will happen don’t you?”

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona.” I was still being spanked if I was naughty, usually while I was positioned over the back of one of the kitchen chairs holding tightly to the arms. I had sprung up like a weed in the last year. No longer was I the smallest in the house, and both my sisters liked the way my bum stuck out when I was punished in that way.

 

“Take off your trousers then, we don’t have all evening!” Miss Martha, who was definitely the more bossy of the two, stood up and I hurried to do what I was told, only to stop dead in my tracks when I realized I was getting a hard on in front of my sisters.

 

“Oh, for goodness sake, let me do it for you!” She marched forward, but then she too stopped, but whereas I had been mortified she was delighted. “Fi, look, he has a dick after all!”

 

Her hands were suddenly on the belt of my jeans, undoing first that and then the button and zipper. She pulled them down off my slim hips, my pants following in very short order, until I was naked before them, apart from my socks.

 

“For a wimp he’s quite a big boy isn’t he?” Miss Fiona stood in front of me, then she poked me, just the once in my ball sack, and my erection got even harder. I should have run away, shouted at them, pulled my jeans back on, anything to put me in control, after all I was the one who was being exposed, but I didn’t, instead I stood there, beet red from my toes to my ears, and said and did nothing.

 

“You know, I think we could have two uniforms. This one for when he isn’t cooking, and the other one for when he is.” Miss Martha, her eyes gleaming, spoke quietly but enthusiastically to my other sister and I saw her nod in response.

 

“Put these on, but once dinner is ready you will come back in here and strip off in front of us, is that understood?”

 

“Yes, Miss Martha.” I reached out for the white shirt and slipped it on. Once I had done that I began to button it up but was stopped by a slap on my hand.

 

“No, no, that’s not how you wear it at all. I suppose I’ll have to show you.” She undid the two fastenings I had managed to do and then began to bunch up the cotton until she was able to tie the two sides together underneath my chest. No buttons were done up and my stomach, with its line of hair leading from my belly button to my pubic fur, was going to be visible whatever else I put on.

 

“Let me do the skirt.” Miss Fiona picked up the tiny blue item of female clothing and moved in front of my other sister. “And lose those socks, you are never to wear them on the weekends again.”

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona.” I bent down quickly and slipped them off, my cock, which I suppose at that time was about six inches long, bobbed respectfully as I did so; I had never known it feel so hard before.

 

Once the skirt was on as well, both my sisters inspected the tented shape I was making in the front of it and laughed.

 

“Off you go, make us our dinner and then report back in here.” Miss Martha had finally sat down, and I realized, rather belatedly, that she was as sexually excited as I was. “Oh, and you aren’t allowed to touch yourself either. We’ll be checking.”

 

It was as if it took my sisters at least a few weeks each time to test the boundaries they had set for me. I never received new instructions in concurrent weeks, or even months. Only when I had begun to get used to my new humiliations did they change, either to something worse or totally different.

 

By the time I was ready to move into my own place just after my nineteenth birthday I was their slave in everything but name. I made sure their bedrooms were tidy even when mum and dad were home. Every weekend I was expected to be with my sisters, my social life began on a Monday and ended on a Thursday. The Friday, Saturday and Sunday I only wore clothes when I was in the kitchen and I was expected to take all the comments as well as the slaps, pinches and strokes of my cock without comment.

 

During the week I now prepared a lot of the meals we all ate, and would have liked to have gone to catering college but my father wouldn’t hear of it. It was bad enough that I had long hair and no girlfriend, but to cook for a living as well, that was more than he could allow.

 

Miss Fiona had been the first one to decide that, as I was now eighteen and still a virgin, things needed to be taken, quite literally, in hand. As I remember I had cooked a particularly delicious quiche, with a beautiful salad, jacket potatoes and a strawberry meringue which, though I do say so myself, was to die for, and we were all sitting in the front room, happily enjoying the summer sun as it shone in through the French windows when she spoke.

 

“Miss Martha tells me you’ve never even seen a woman naked, is that right?”

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona.” It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true, and I never could lie to my sisters.

 

“Would you like to?”

 

“Oh, yes, Miss Fiona, more than anything.” I was, as usual, naked myself, as I had finished working in the kitchen, and my penis, which was flaccid until they began speaking, was now at half-mast.

 

“There are conditions attached to this.”

 

I didn’t care; I was humiliated by my lack of a girlfriend, and not in a pleasurable way.

 

“I’ll do whatever you want, Miss Fiona, you know that.”

 

“Yes, I do, don’t I.” It wasn’t a question, and I knew better than to answer her.

 

“Very well, I will explain to you what is going to happen.” She paused for a moment, just for effect, and then continued. “First of all, you will be spanked, soundly. I don’t want you to think any of this is for your enjoyment. Once you have been punished then I will remove my clothes and you will be able to look, but absolutely no touching.”

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona, I understand.”

 

“Did I say you should speak?” Miss Fiona pointed towards the rug and I knew my place, in seconds I was on my knees looking down. I wasn’t sure when I had first been told to do that, but it was second nature now, to assume the position, so to speak, when I was in trouble.

 

“No, Miss, Fiona, please forgive me.”

 

“Once you have had a good look,” Miss Fiona continued as if I had remained silent, like I should have done, “then I may let you learn a little about what a woman wants to happen to her when she is with a man. That depends on your behaviour up until that point though.”

 

“Stand up and come over here.” It was Miss Martha who spoke now, and I did as I was told. Of the two sisters she usually punished me. My sister was an enthusiastic tennis player and I felt the rough end of her forehand at least once a week.

 

“Lean forward so that you can grasp the arms of the chair.”

 

The chair in question was very comfortable, green in colour with wooden insets on the ends of the arms. I had to stand, facing the chair, and hold onto them when my punishment took place in the living room. I felt more pain when I was disciplined here; there was no chair back to stop me moving forwards and by the end my shoulders would hurt almost as much as my backside.

 

One sister, I’m not sure which, then nudged my feet apart until she could see my testicles hanging down. Once that was done they stood on either side of me and, again anonymously, lightly ran a hand over my bum cheeks and then a long nail down my spine. A thumb and forefinger grasped one of my nipples and pinched it hard, causing me to gasp out loud, even though I knew it was coming.

 

Through all of this my cock was getting harder and harder, but as I was never allowed to cum, not while we were in the living room, I knew I could do nothing about it. I had to wait until certain conditions were met. One was that it had to be something I was so desperate for I would kneel outside my sisters’ bedrooms after lights out, with only the glow from under their closed doors to work with, and beg for their permission to wank myself off until my load shot across the hallway, so frantic was I for release. If one of them said no, then I was forbidden to cum. The second condition was that I had to be vocal; they wanted to hear me as I played with myself, and then, once I had cum I was to remain on my knees on the wooden floor and lick up all my spunk to their satisfaction.

 

Sometimes I wasn’t allowed to even beg, I had to go to bed with my erection so painful I had difficulty sleeping. Other times I had to play with myself in front of them, but there was no chance of me having to lick up my mess. I would work myself closer and closer to a climax and then one or other sister would stop me. They would hold my hands behind my back and wait, five, maybe ten minutes, all the time discussing my, to them, small dick, and how pathetic it was, sometimes flicking the tip or pinching at my balls, before I was instructed to start again. The most I could do was five almost climaxes, then I would be in tears, begging them, promising the earth to either sister if only they would let me keep stroking myself until that delicious feeling could explode along with all the semen their comments and humiliation had produced. I was never allowed to cum though, not when they ordered me to give them a show, and I knew it. It didn’t put me off; in fact it was so delicious, so exciting to me, that the denial was a huge part of the pleasure.

 

This time was different, I wanted so much to see Miss Fiona naked, but I knew the moment I did I would probably shoot my load and get into serious trouble. Before that though, I had the spanking to endure, and trying to clear my mind of the things which were to come, I lowered my head and closed my eyes.

 

SMACK!

 

“Thank you, Miss Martha.” I had shouted once a few years earlier, when they spanked me, and ever since I was expected to thank them for each slap.

 

SMACK!

 

“Thank you, Miss Fiona.” They were alternating the smacks and my heart sank. When that happened it meant I would be punished for twice as long. And if I happened to get their name wrong, then one of them would grasp my testicles hard and twist them each time I was slapped for up to ten hits.

 

Finally, when I was sobbing and my bottom felt like it was hot enough to cook eggs on, it was over. I was told to let go and then return to the rug. In many ways that was the worst part, even though it was quite old and soft in places, I was expected to sit on the very edge so there was always a hard piece underneath me somewhere.

 

“Put your hands behind you, then open your legs wide with the soles of your feet together.”

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona.” I did as I was told instantly, even though I knew I was on display even more than I usually was. The clock on the mantle said it was just after nine. I had been spanked for almost fifteen minutes, my longest punishment yet. Now though, I was to get my treat, I would see a naked woman and I would have endured another twenty punishments for that.

 

“Woman like to have men look at them, but only when they have given permission. Being leered at in the street is degrading, and you will make sure you never do that. Now though I want you to look, so what you are doing is fine.”

 

“Yes, Miss Fiona, I will remember not to stare when I am out.” Remember, hell, I would have agreed to anything, but however easily I had accepted her instructions ever since that day I feel guilty if I let my eyes linger for too long on a beautiful woman.

 

Gradually my sister began to undo the shirt she was wearing. Then she slid it off her arms, onto the floor, and I could see her black lacy bra, making her skin look even whiter than it was. Once that was done she reached behind her and undid the fastening on her skirt. That too slid to the floor and I gasped out loud as I saw she was wearing stockings and a suspender belt. Her fingers slipped into the sides of her knickers and she slowly, oh so slowly, began to slide them down her black stocking covered legs. I could see that she too had pubic hair, blonde, just like mine, but it was only a thin line, which seemed to be made up of little curls as if she had spent ages carefully styling it.

 

“This is my pussy. In here are all the secrets that one day you might be able to discover, if you are dedicated to the pleasure of your partner that is.” Miss Fiona moved across towards the chair where I had just been punished and put one of her feet on the cushion. Immediately I could see she was shaved and glistening between her legs.

 

As I watched, my cock getting harder by the second, Miss Fiona ran her fingers along her folds of skin and then, suddenly, two of them disappeared inside her. I know I groaned and my hands were fighting to get a hold of my erection. Again slowly, she removed her fingers with a slurping noise and held them under my nose; they smelt wonderful.

 

“Taste.”

 

I shot my tongue out, licking at the liquid that was pooled in the bends behind her knuckles and got my first taste of the nectar I would become addicted to very soon.

 

For a while Miss Fiona sat in the chair, she had made herself comfortable once I had finished cleaning her hand for her, and I became more and more agitated as nothing seemed to be happening.

 

“Please, Miss Fiona, please, may I see your tits?” I finally had to speak, even though I knew I would probably be in trouble for it.

 

“You want to see my what?” Miss Fiona stood up, she was still excited, her thighs glistened, and I could see that the top of her stockings were wet.

 

“Your tits, Miss Fiona, please, let me see your tits.”

 

“I don’t think you want to, not really.”

 

“Oh, I do, I really do.” I was on my knees now; I kissed her black patent leather shoes before looking up at her and speaking again. “Please, Miss Fiona, you can spank me again, or twist my balls, but please, I want so much to see your tits, I just know they will be beautiful. I won’t touch, I promise, I won’t touch you or me, but please let me see you take your bra off.” I would have prostrated myself on the floor, but knew if I did I would have to rub my cock on the carpet, and so I stayed on my knees, kissing her again as soon as I had finished speaking.

 

“What do you think, Miss Martha? Does he deserve to have me take my last piece of clothing off? Has he shown that he really wants to see me naked?”

 

Her words were bombarding me with images, I moaned out loud and felt a sob lodge itself in my throat.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. I think that maybe he should be spanked again. Would you agree to that, Martin?”

 

“Yes, Miss Martha, anything, Miss Fiona, please.”

 

I was a worm, a pathetic worm, but I had never felt so turned on in my whole life. All that mattered to me was that to see Miss Fiona naked I had to beg, I had to prove to my sisters I would do as they wanted. At that moment I realized I had arrived, I was theirs to command, and from that day on I have, if at all possible, done everything they have ever wanted me to.

 

Miss Fiona came closer and knelt in front of me so we were almost eye-to-eye, I was still taller than her, even in this position, and then she slid the straps off her shoulders and unclasped the front of the black lacy bra and let it fall.

 

Nothing could have prepared me for the breathtaking sight in front of me. Her pussy had been wonderful, something I knew I wanted to see again one day, but more than anything I had wanted Miss Fiona to bare her tits for me. And now, finally, I could see them, right there in front of me, even closer than I could have ever imagined. Her breasts were quite large, they were firm, white, and the nipples, oh, the nipples, brown, large and, at that moment, with the areola puckered, they sat proudly waiting to be sucked, pinched and twisted.

 

“Ohhhh.” The moan that left my lips was one of pure joy and Miss Fiona smiled.

 

“That is the type of reaction a woman likes. In fact, because of it you may kiss them, once each.”

 

How I didn’t shoot my spunk all over the floor at that moment I will never know. Maybe all those enforced nights of torment had given me more willpower than I realized, but, instead of letting my hormones get the better of me, I leant forward and took her left breast into my mouth, sucking it for a second before placing a kiss on the tip. I then did the same on the other and reluctantly resumed my contrite position in front of her.

 

“You have done very well. In fact, you are coming along excellently. Tomorrow night, if you are very good, we may even do this again.”

 

With that both my sisters got to their feet, one dressed and one totally naked. They both smiled down at me, I was never allowed to leave a room before them, and then wished me a very good night.

 

“You don’t touch yourself though, not unless we give express permission.”

 

I knew that I was being given permission to do something, to beg, to plead outside their bedroom doors later in the evening, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I would be there, debasing myself, promising them the earth, if only they would let me re-live my evening and make myself cum at the same time.

 

TBC

 

02

It was another week before I saw her again, this time it was a sunny Saturday and, having finished work at midday as I always did at the weekend, I was only planning to pop home and change before heading off to watch the footie. Once again there was no lift, but this time it was because the painters were in! It was hardly likely to get shabby; no one ever had a chance to use it!

 

Miss, in my mind she was always that now, was climbing the stairs, her hands full of stretched and straining supermarket carrier bags and I rushed up, cleared my throat and, ignoring my nervousness, spoke to her.

 

“Hi, can I carry those for you?”

 

Turning just slightly I was rewarded first with a frown but then a smile.

 

“Oh, thank you, that would be wonderful.”

 

I took over, carefully making sure that none of the handles were unsupported, and followed her, slowly, to her front door.

 

“Could you put them into the kitchen for me?” She indicated with her hand and I was about to say I knew where to go as all the flats were the same when I realized they weren’t, hers was far more luxurious than mine.

 

“Of course, it’s no problem, Miss.” I don’t know why I added the term of respect out loud but it seemed so natural to do so and I didn’t really think about it until it was too late and I saw a momentary puzzled look on her face.

 

“Would you like a cup of tea, or a cold drink? You were a lifesaver, some of those bags are heavy, but I just couldn’t face more than one journey up those dreadful stairs.”

 

“Thank you, a cold drink would be lovely.” I looked at her and smiled; what I really wanted was to get the refreshments myself, have her sit and me fetch, but that wasn’t possible, at least not yet.

 

“My name is Susan, why don’t you sit down in the lounge and I’ll get the drinks?” She turned as she spoke, walking away from me, her legs tanned in white denim shorts and a pair of deck shoes. Her top was red, quite tight; I could see the outline of the straps of her bra through it and had to avert my eyes so that my arousal wouldn’t become obvious.

 

Her lounge was quite sumptuous, although understated; a deep and welcoming coffee coloured velour sofa with a pair of matching chairs commanded the outside wall. The floors were wooden, parquet, just as we’d had at home, and there was a thick pile rug with a glass occasional table on it to complete the seating area. I perched myself on the corner of one of the chairs, glad I had worked in the office rather than the yard all morning, and continued to look around, trying to concentrate on anything but my hostess in the vain hope that when she returned my dick wouldn’t make its presence felt once again.

 

“Here we go, oh, silly, you needn’t get up.” I had risen to my feet as soon as I saw her, and although she told me not to, I could tell she was flattered.

 

“Now, you didn’t tell me your name, did you?”

 

“No, no, I didn’t, it’s Martin, Miss.”

 

“Well hi, Martin, I’m pleased to meet you properly at last.”

 

“Thank you.” I looked down, wanting to look her in the eye, at least for a moment, but unable to because of all the training I had received.

 

“Martin.” The one word was of a slightly different tone and this time I did look up.

 

“Yes, Miss?”

 

“Are you frightened of me?”

 

“Oh, no, not at all.” Suddenly I was afraid, not of her, but of myself, had I blown it? Was I now to be thrown out because of my attitude?

 

“I see, I just wondered. Why do you call me miss then? Is it because I am so much older than you?”

 

Now I wasn’t afraid, but horrified, I had insulted her, when all I wanted to do was offer my respect.

 

“No, I … I’d better go, I’m so sorry, Miss, really, really sorry.” I wanted to cry and my voice was definitely wavering as I tried to get to my feet.

 

“Martin.” Again she said my name, this time softer, with more concern, and then I felt her hand on my arm. “Stay still.”

 

I did as I was told; there was nothing else I could do. When a woman, especially a beautiful and sexy woman like Miss Susan, gave me instructions I was powerless to refuse.

 

“Why don’t you sit back and tell me a little about yourself? Maybe you will relax while you are doing so and then, when you are really ready to leave, I won’t stop you.”

 

I nodded, words didn’t seem to be making their way from my brain to my mouth and so, in mute obedience, I plonked myself, a little further back than before, onto the big squishy chair and let it eat me.

 

 

~*~

 

For the next half an hour or so I did talk, not continually, Miss Susan asked the odd question, she even volunteered a little information about her own life, and gradually I calmed down, stopped sweating, I even relaxed enough to smile and unclasp my hands from in my lap.

 

“I … I think I should leave now, I’m sorry if I’ve upset your plans for the afternoon.”

 

“It is me who should be apologising, but I think that may bring back all your insecurities, so instead I will say it has been a pleasure to meet you and I hope we can renew our acquaintance again very soon.”

 

I just nodded, amazed she was even prepared to see me out, let alone talk with me again. When I got to the door I turned back to her, and carried my amazement to new levels when I spoke.

 

“I’m a pretty good cook, I could prepare a meal for you one night if you would like.”

 

Her face beamed, she nodded her head and then placed her hand over mine.

 

“That sounds like a marvellous idea, what day did you have in mind?”

 

“Umm, tomorrow? Or Monday? I don’t work Mondays.”

 

“Tomorrow. Let’s do it tomorrow. Why don’t you come here and cook? I have all sorts of gadgets and things that never get used on anything more than individual meals, it would be fun to see what you could do with them.”

 

After arranging to meet again at four the following afternoon for a meal at six I walked as calmly as I could until I knew I was out of sight and then belted up the stairs, in through my own front door and straight to the bedroom. I knelt by the bed and pushing down my work trousers began to pull on my hard cock, taking myself so close to the edge that I nearly exploded instead of holding back.

 

Four times I took myself to the limit and each time I begged Miss Susan to let me cum, and each time I heard her refuse me. Finally, when the strain was too much, I kept pumping, moving my hand with measured strokes, until my cum shot out of me and onto the covers, not once or twice, but in five long white bolts. I lowered my forehead to the bed, resting it in the closest pool of spunk and closed my eyes, whatever else happened for now I was in heaven.

 

~*~

 

I pored over my cookery books that night, wondering what I could make that wouldn’t look as if I were showing off, but would give her an idea of my culinary skills. In the end, remembering I had seen some curry powder and a chicken amongst her shopping, I decided to do an Indian meal, with naan bread and make it a medium heat.

 

I tossed and turned in bed all night, my dreams were full of her either eating the meal and then showering me with kisses or laughing in my face and ordering me out of her home. In the end, at six on Sunday morning, I got up, had a shower and decided to go for a run to try and clear my head. Jogging wasn’t quite as popular a pastime as it is now, and at that time of day I was the only one in the local park apart from energetic dog walkers. I pushed myself to the limit; doing short bursts of speed, long more steadily paced work and then a set of demanding stretches to finish with. My job at the builders’ merchants had certainly begun to toughen me up, already I could notice a difference, and whereas six months earlier I had been pure wimp now I was just wimp. I determined that never again would I be the type of man who had sand kicked in his face, but I had no intention of doing the kicking either.

 

I went back to my flat, had another shower and breakfast and then made my way into town to get a few necessities. There weren’t as many shops open on a Sunday as there are now, but I managed to find everything I wanted in the ones that were. It was only a little after twelve when I returned home again and was at a loss for something to do. In the end I called my sisters, Miss Fiona and Miss Martha had a flat together on the opposite side of town, and chatted with them for a while, not going into great detail about my plans for the rest of the day, but assuring them I was behaving in a manner befitting my station.

 

By the time it was almost four o’clock I was so nervous I thought I might pass out. I had no idea why I was this way, other than somewhere deep inside me I knew I would serve her in any way she wanted. I also had a feeling she knew that too.

 

Making my way down the stairs and towards her flat a feeling of calm seemed to descend over me and when she opened her door I was able to smile and accept her invitation to enter without making a total gibbering fool of myself.

 

“Martin, you are prompt, I like that. Put your things in the kitchen and then we can talk for a little while before you begin.” Miss Susan didn’t have to direct me this time and I carefully put all my different bits and bobs down on one of the work surfaces before returning to where she stood in the front hallway.

 

“Now, I know I don’t like to be disturbed while I am cooking so you won’t be either. If you need anything though just give a yell.”

 

“Yes, Miss Su…” I paused, not sure if I should use her name and in the end deciding I wouldn’t until given permission to do so. “Yes, Miss, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to do this for you.”

 

“My sweet boy, it is my pleasure. Now, go, I will be in the lounge reading if you need anything, oh, and could you bring me in a glass of white wine?”

 

“Of course, Miss, right away.” I beamed; there was something I could do for her immediately.

 

Once I had made sure Miss Susan was comfortable I returned to the kitchen and began my preparations. As I did so my heart began to sink, just a little. There were all sorts of gadgets and equipment, some of which I had lusted after in my mother’s catalogues at home, and they had all obviously been used quite extensively. Miss Susan, it seemed, was a dedicated cook, just as I was. I only hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed.

 

I had just begun to make the final adjustments before cooking started when there was a light tap on the door and she was standing there.

 

“I don’t like to intrude, but how are you going?” She smiled at me, her blue eyes shining as she did so and I felt a stirring deep within.

 

“I’ll be about another half an hour, if that is acceptable for you.”

 

“That sounds just right, I will go and have a bath and get myself ready, I have to say it all smells wonderful.”

 

“Would you like me to call you five minutes before I am ready to dish up, Miss Su …, and can I get you another glass of wine to take with you?” I caught myself again, not wanting to spoil what had happened so far by my impertinence.

 

“Yes please to both questions, this is turning into a lovely afternoon and evening, thank you, Martin.”

 

I felt myself blush and hurried to busy myself with refilling her glass, which I handed to her without a word, not trusting my voice to come out strongly enough to hide my feelings.

 

~*~

 

The actual meal passed in a blur, I remember dishing it up, I remember holding her chair for her as she sat down, I remember hoping her meal didn’t taste like cardboard even though mine did, but conversation, actions, how long it took, none of those have stuck in my mind. The way Miss Susan looked has though, and even now, fifteen years later, I can still recall the light blue dress with the softly folding neck line, the way her hair was held back in clips but fell over her shoulders in soft waves, the sandals, also blue, with high heels and bare toes showing just a hint of a pink varnish on them. All of that I carry with me to this day, a memory so special I know it will never fade, never leave me.

 

~*~

 

When I brought the coffee to the table and had sat once again Miss Susan put a hand over mine.

 

“I think we need to talk, I hope it won’t spoil a wonderful evening, but I think it may even enhance it.”

 

I didn’t look up, not fully; I just glanced at her through my lashes and nodded my head.

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.”

 

“I think you have wanted to call me that all afternoon, haven’t you?”

 

I nodded, it had slipped out but, even if I never got to call her by that name again, the powerful feeling doing it just the once gave me was an undeniable aphrodisiac and I felt myself stirring beneath the table.

 

“If I asked you to kneel at my feet would you do it?” Her tone was still light but there was a seriousness there that couldn’t be denied.

 

“Oh yes, Miss Susan.” I saw her indicate with her hand and in a second I was on the floor, my hands behind my back, head bowed, waiting for her next command.

 

“Sit up on the chair again, for the moment I would rather look across at you than down.” Again I obeyed instantly putting my hands in my lap, hoping to hide how affected I was by her words.

 

“Martin, are you a submissive?”

 

“Pardon, Miss Susan, a what?” Now, looking back, I realize how naïve I was, but at the time her question really did confuse me.

 

“A submissive, my sweet boy, someone who lives to do the bidding of others, whatever it may be, both ordinarily and sexually.”

 

“Then yes, Miss Susan, I think I am. My … my sisters were always in charge at home, I did what they told me to … I was …” my voice faded away, to say anything more would be to reveal a secret I had kept all my life, but especially in the last three years.

 

“You were what? If we are to have this discussion I expect total honesty from you, is that understood?” Her voice, I noticed, had changed a little. She was still polite, still gracious, but there was a authority there that told me she expected me to do as I was told.

 

“Yes, Miss Susan, I understand.”

 

“Then continue with what you were going to say.”

 

“If I disappointed my sisters, or didn’t do as I was instructed, they punished me. Sometimes I was spanked, but also they used to stop me from … from playing with myself. Or they would order me to play and then forbid me from cumming, Miss Susan.” I wanted to die, I felt so humiliated, but there was an excitement as well, my cock was moving in my pants as it grew and my breathing was getting heavier. I ventured a glance across the table and I could see that my words were affecting my hostess as well.

 

“Stand up, Martin, hands behind your back.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I stood there, my trousers now tented for her to see and I shifted a little to try and accommodate my increasing size a bit more comfortably.

 

“Touch yourself, run your hand up and down your penis through your trousers, show me how you would do that.”

 

Without a word my hand shot to my dick, I grasped it through the material and began to pump my fingers up and down until I had to use my free hand to hold on to the table so excited and so close was I to cumming.

 

“That is enough.” Immediately I stopped although the disappointment I felt was the greatest I could remember and I inadvertently let out a groan of misery.

 

“That is enough, I want you to take everything through to the kitchen, load up the dishwasher and make sure the room is tidy. Once that is done you will find me in the lounge. I expect you to come in silently and, if you wish this to continue, you will remove your clothes and kneel before me. If, on the other hand, you want our friendship to remain just that, you will stand before me, fully dressed and we will resume our previous relationship, is that clear?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” My voice was husky with arousal and I longed to touch myself once more.

 

“You will keep your hands above your waist at all times, except to put dishes away, if you don’t then that too will end this relationship.”

 

There was no need to answer, I had been dismissed and we went our separate ways, Miss Susan, picking up a magazine as she did so, headed for the lounge, while I, with a coffee cup in each hand, walked backwards through the kitchen door and began to tidy up.

 

~*~

 

Thankfully, I had become tidier over the years and in no more than ten minutes I was back in the lounge carefully removing my clothes and folding them neatly on the floor. I then assumed the position Miss Susan had requested of me, my cock now sticking out at full attention and desperate to be touched.

 

“Very well, I see you wish to continue with our discussion of earlier. I have to say I am very pleased and not at all surprised. I have had a feeling ever since we first talked that you needed this type of relationship and I find myself responding far better when I can be the dominant partner.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan, so we are submissive and dominant, is that right?”

 

“You are correct, my little one, normally you would be punished for speaking out of turn, however, you are also very new to this lifestyle and so, for a while at least, I will be lenient with you.”

 

She placed her finger under my chin and raised my face so I could see into her eyes. Once she had done that she moved her hand and the same finger was placed over my lips, telling me to keep quiet.

 

“You will tell me what turns you on, gets you excited. If you are completely truthful about this then I will gradually remove my own clothing, if I think you are either lying or being economical with the truth I will stop.”

 

Gradually I began to speak, I told her how my sisters had bent me over a chair and spanked my bottom, how they had sometimes twisted my balls until I was crying, and about the begging outside their rooms in the dark, desperately promising them anything they wanted if only I could cum.

 

Miss Susan listened, for a while she said nothing, encouraging me with a smile or a touch of the hand, and I continued, moving on to when Miss Fiona had shown me her body, how I had begged to see her breasts, and how, gradually, they had instructed me in how to make love to a woman, but only through touch. I had never been allowed to enter them; somehow all three of us thought that was a step too far.

 

“So, you are still a virgin?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan, that’s true.” By now she was down to just her bra and knickers, both of them a slightly paler blue than her dress and underskirt which she had folded and put on the sofa next to her. I was captivated by the way her breasts were pushed together by the lace, how her nipples darkened the material just enough for me to see where they were and I felt my cock get even harder as I imagined my tongue reaching out to lick her, my fingers to touch and embrace her and I heard another moan leave my lips.

 

“I want you to remove my knickers for me and then you can show me what it was your sisters taught you. If you are a good boy I will remove my bra, and I will let you play with my breasts.” Miss Susan stood before me and, with shaking hands, I carefully pulled the pale and lacy slip of material down her legs and onto the floor. The high sandals were still on her feet and she stepped elegantly out of her panties and then sat back on the sofa, her legs wide apart and her treasures glistening and waiting for me.

 

In the time I had spent under instruction from Miss Fiona and Miss Martha I had learnt a lot about what a woman likes to have done to her. Now though I was more nervous than I had ever been and for a moment I know it showed. Tentatively I ran my tongue across her labia, the taste was so different, but like honey, so wonderful that I wanted more of it and again my tongue made its way across her soft flesh. I heard her mumble something but as it didn’t seem to be disapproving I continued, gently laying my hands on her thighs as my tongue, flattened out, gradually licked every surface.

 

“Mmm, show me more, Martin, show me how talented you are.”

 

I rolled my tongue and began teasing her; I could feel the smooth edges of her warm dark slit and the juices flowing from it. I sucked on them, I used my tongue like a straw, and then I began to fuck her with it, darting into her, feeling her body tighten around me as her breathing became deeper, and her hands held my hair, almost pushing me inside of her and I waited for her to relax a moment before taking my chance and moving out and sucking her clitoris into my mouth, nipping it, licking it, and then letting go.

 

“Oh, God, don’t stop, do that again.” Of course I did. It was firmer now, easier to bite, easier to tease this way and then I began to lick her again, only this time I dipped deep inside of her as I went in one direction and then sucked her into me on the return journey. Her swollen lips were so soft it was almost perfection, she began to moan more loudly, and her breathing became ragged.

 

“Fuck me, Martin, fuck me with your tongue, oh, God, now, now!” In and out I went, the juices coating my face, sliding over my tongue as I moved her closer and closer to a climax and then, suddenly I felt her move again.

 

“I’m cumming, ohhhh, yes, Ohhhhhh, now!” Her whole body arched up from the sofa, her hands tangled in my hair, pulling on me, and as she cried out I felt her flood into my mouth, over and over as her spasms pushed more cum out of her and into me before she collapsed back down, letting go of everything and lying breathless before me.

 

It was only when I raised my head that I saw she had pulled her breasts free from her bra. The dark areolas were tight and puckered and the nipples long and bruised looking from the treatment she had given them. I knew now wasn’t the time to touch them, she would be coming down from her high and so I sat back on my heels, wanting to do nothing more than wank myself off, but instead waiting for whatever instruction came next.

 

~*~

 

Finally, after about five minutes, during which time I heard her breathing gradually calm and saw her muscles relax, she looked up at me.

 

“Thank you, my sweet boy, that was wonderful. Now, I want you to show me how you play with yourself, I want to see exactly what you do.”

 

Nodding my head and feeling a blush rise up my face I reached down and grabbed hold of my swollen and pulsating member. It felt hot in my hand and I could see the pre-cum on the top so I caught it with my fingers and used it as lubrication, enjoying the feeling of the liquid as it eased my journey down to my balls and back up again.

 

As I continued, feeling the excitement my movements caused, Miss Susan told me to look at her and, without missing a beat, I did as I was told. Her bra had disappeared and she was sitting on the edge of the sofa. As I watched she pulled on her nipples, and rubbed her pussy as I felt myself near the point of no return.

 

“Please, Miss Susan, can I cum, please?”

 

“No, my sweet boy, you may not. It has only been a minute or two, you aren’t allowed to cum for at least another ten.”

 

“Oh, please, Miss Susan, please, I can’t wait that long, what you are doing, your tits, they are … ohhhh, please.” My hand was getting faster; I was so close.

 

“Put your hands behind your head … now!” I had pumped one more time after her instruction and she sounded furious. “Are you so selfish that you would disobey me for your own pleasure?”

 

“No, Miss Susan, please forgive me.”

 

This was all moving so fast, I had started out by cooking her a meal, then she had discovered my secret, instructed me on how things were to proceed, and now I was cringing at her tone as she forbade me to cum.

 

“Put your hand around your testicles and then squeeze them, as your sisters used to do.”

 

Again, immediately, I complied, my hand causing me pain I knew I wouldn’t be able to minimize just because it was self-inflicted.

 

“They don’t look red enough to me, squeeze harder.” Miss Susan had got off the sofa and was now kneeling right in front of me, her breasts so close I could see them raise up and down as she breathed, so near that if she had leant just a centimetre closer they would have touched me, and that raised the torture level even higher as I gripped tighter, feeling the blood flow being constricted as they began to throb.

 

“Do you wish to continue?” Miss Susan touched my cheek with her hand, a look of concern mingled with the excitement I could see in her eyes.

 

“Yes, Miss Susan, please, I don’t want to stop.”

 

“If you do, at any time, you must say ‘rhubarb’ otherwise I will ignore you. That will be our safe word.”

 

I nodded, I had no idea what a safe word was, all I knew was even through the pain I was so excited, so turned on, I could, if instructed, shoot my load within seconds of touching my penis again.

 

Moving her hand forward she grabbed my balls just behind where I was holding them, pulling them further away from my body and increasing the pain into an agony.

 

“Play with yourself again, I promise you, you won’t be able to cum.”

 

As I began once more Miss Susan placed the thumb and forefinger of her other hand at the base of my penis, she pressed tightly and I realized, with a rush of adrenalin, that until she released me I was truly in her power.

 

I speeded up, the knowledge of what she was doing spurring me on until, even with her pressure on my shaft, I knew I was very close. So did she apparently because again I was ordered to stop.

 

“No, please. Please, Miss Susan, it’s too hard, I need to cum. I won’t touch myself all week, I’ll clean your house, your car, please, Miss Susan, I’ll lick your pussy, I’ll make you cum over and over, but please let me touch myself again, I need it so much.”

 

“Stand up, put your hands together behind your back and spread your legs apart.” The words were almost barked and I was on my feet in no time.

 

“Do you want to be able to visit with me, to play with me? To see my body?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan, more than anything.”

 

“More even than your need to cum?”

 

“I … I … no, Miss Susan.” I almost sobbed out my answer and couldn’t look at her, so didn’t see her stand and move towards me until she reached out and grabbed both my nipples, pulling them and twisting them at the same time.

 

“Arghhh, please, no, Miss Susan, I won’t cum, I’ll play with you instead, please, I’m sorry I gave the wrong answer.”

 

“Hold them, just as I am.” I did as I was told, taking over my own torture once again, and then watched in horror as Miss Susan left the room. I had tears in my eyes, not from the pain but the solitude, even though it lasted but a minute.

 

In Miss Susan’s hands she was holding something but I couldn’t see what. She took over the pinching and pulling of my left nipple and then I screamed out with pain as a clothes peg was clipped onto it. I had never felt anything like it, I wanted to drop to the floor, to roll up in a ball, but I could do neither, and then the action was repeated, both nipples now hurt, pulsed, burned, and I was amazed to find that instead of my cock deflating it was, if anything, even harder than before.

 

“Well, well, you do like the pain, don’t you, my sweet boy?”

 

“Yes … yes, I do, Miss Susan. Arghhh.” She swiped her hand across the pegs, causing them to pull and pinch even more than before and then, to my horror, she produced one more peg, which she attached to my ball sack, and this time I couldn’t stop myself from collapsing in agony.

 

I wasn’t sure why, but as I lay there I was sure the pain began to recede. I looked up; my vision blurred a little by the tears, and wondered if I could cope with all of this. Although nowadays I know the pain was mild, and I have suffered far more than this, it worked because I was totally unused to it. At the time though I wondered how I could gradually be in less pain, how I could still have an erection, whether I would be permitted to remove them before I got dressed, but there, amongst all those thoughts was the longing to cum, still pressing, still urgent, still my most fervent desire.

 

“You may stand back up now, you have spent enough time lazing on the carpet.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I complied, what else was I to do? What was happening was painful, but it was wonderful too, and I didn’t want it to end, not just yet, so that meant getting to my feet and starting over.

 

“You may play with yourself again, you are not allowed to cum, and you must rub your penis twenty-five times.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I began, each stroke pulled at the peg behind my cock, each arm movement reminded me of the pain in my chest, and still I was excited, still I throbbed and needed release.

 

“How many is that?”

 

“Fifteen, Miss Susan.” I was counting, the number didn’t seem to be getting any closer to twenty-five, but I was still counting.

 

“Hmm, move a little faster, a little firmer now, if you please.”

 

I knew it wasn’t my pleasure I was aiming for but said nothing, instead I did increase the speed and then the feeling inside began to increase as well and I was once again hurtling towards my climax.

 

“Miss Susan.” I could say nothing else, this would be the third denied climax, I couldn’t take more than four without losing the plot, and it had been so long since I had been ordered by someone to stop that I didn’t think I could stand three either.

 

Miss Susan leant forward and removed the two pegs from my nipples. She didn’t unclip them, but instead pulled them off, for a second all was fine, but then the pain started and even in my aroused state I had to lift my hands to hold them, to protect them from the agony which coursed through my chest, and then she did the same with my balls, the fire raced through me and I couldn’t help myself, my spunk shot out of my cock, it pulsed out onto the floor, once, twice, three times, and each time I cried out, in anguish and ecstasy, before I fell, twitching at her feet, my bones reduced to jelly and my brain to mush.

 

~*~

 

I was so overcome by everything that had happened to me in such a short while that I broke down at Miss Susan’s feet, sobbing helplessly, and then she was there beside me, taking me into her arms, holding my heaving body against her own as gradually, over a minute or two, I began to calm myself once more.

 

“There, my sweet boy, you did so well for your first time. In fact I think I may reward you.”

 

I looked up, my young, tear stained face must have been a pathetic sight but she gave no indication of it. Instead she caught a tear on her finger and then licked it off before moving a little closer and placing her lips over my own for our first kiss.

 

It was so sweet, but so overwhelming that once again all I could do was lean against her as her tongue gently toyed with my own, I felt her investigating, moving into my mouth and then dancing around, so tenderly, so lightly that I groaned and responded in kind.

 

“Thank you, Miss Susan, that was lovely.” I spoke as our kiss ended and for a moment she looked a little nonplussed. “My reward, it was lovely, thank you.”

 

Miss Susan laughed, it was a young, free laugh, one that floated around me and lifted me.

 

“Oh, my sweet but silly boy, that wasn’t your reward, that was a kiss between lovers, a kiss to share and savour. Your reward, if you still want it, is to stay, to sleep in my bed with me tonight.”

 

I was speechless, I had never been offered such a treasure before and all I could do was nod, fervently, in the hope that she would understand.

 

“Very well, first though, I think you need to crawl over and clean up my floor. I can’t have that mess left overnight.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I moved, gingerly, towards the trail of cum I had spread over her floorboards and lowered my head. I had always felt totally humiliated, licking up my own spunk, and now was no different. It had grown cold and stringy, clinging to my tongue and the floor like white glue, but gradually, with the remaining tremors from my orgasm still occasionally pulsating through me, I managed to swallow my load down before looking back towards the beautiful legs of Miss Susan.

 

Carefully, with a smile of approval for my actions, Miss Susan helped me to my feet, my legs still didn’t have the strength to carry me on their own, and we walked, together, towards her bedroom.

 

TBC

 

My email address is incorrect on my personal page. I would love to hear comments from anyone who reads this, but at milliemoons@hotmail.co.uk please.

 

 

 

03

The sun, as it shone in through the bedroom window, gradually woke me and for a moment I had no idea where I was. I felt Miss Susan’s body next to mine and immediately remembered the exquisite torture she had put me through the night before.

 

With a smile I moved slightly so I could lie on my back. I placed my hands behind my head and closed my eyes once more. I didn’t want to fall asleep again, instead I thought through every moment of the previous evening, every word, gesture and feeling, because it was the only way I could convince myself they had all actually happened.

 

I finished with the moment Miss Susan had told me to lick my cum up off the floor. I was still feeling the after shocks of my climax, it had been the strongest I had ever experienced and all I really wanted was to lay in Miss Susan’s arms and do nothing. Instead, once she knew I was able to take it, she made me crawl and humiliate myself in front of her.  The results of that humiliation though had surprised me. By the time Miss Susan helped me into her bed my cock was hard again, not as hard as it had been, but definitely on the way.

 

“Ahhh, the exuberance of youth. You are hoping for another round are you, my sweet boy?” Miss Susan was smiling and she ran her fingers up my dick, making me gasp out, as I felt her warmth against me.

 

“For tonight it will be cuddles only. You have done a lot today, all of it new, or in a new situation, I think sleep will come very quickly once you are comfy.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I was disappointed, but knew she was right. Now, twelve hours later, as I lay there, my cock just stirring slightly in it’s beginning of the day hardness, I wondered whether there would be anything more, or if I would be sent home, back to my own little life where nothing this exciting had ever happened to me.

 

Miss Susan hadn’t put any nightclothes on before she got into bed and looking at her as she slept, her body so graceful in repose, hair mussed up, her face totally relaxed and without make-up, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I watched her for a few more minutes before carefully climbing out of bed and heading for the bathroom; when I re-entered the bedroom she was awake and smiling at me.

 

“Good morning, my sweet boy, are you going to get back in?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I did as I was told and then watched while she took the same journey as me. It took her a little longer though, and I was just wondering where she had gone when she re-appeared with some soft looking material in her hands.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to get up yet. I suggest you lie back and let me take over.”

 

I immediately did as I was instructed, not needing to be told a second time. As I lay there, my heart beating fast in my chest, she draped the material across my stomach and I realised it was a selection of long scarves.

 

“Lift your arms above your head.” There was no doubt about the strength in her tone and I followed her instructions without delay. I felt her tie my wrists to the poles on either side of the bed before doing the same with my ankles. She still had a couple of the pieces of material across my body and she slowly lifted them so they caressed my skin, making my muscles contract as she did so.

 

“These, my sweet boy, may be used later. This one, the darkest would go here.” She laid it across my eyes and even in its unfastened state my vision became severely limited. “This one, which is one of my favourites, could end up right here.” This time I felt the silky sensation across my lips, “While this one, well, here seems as good a place as any.” Miss Susan ran the scarf up my legs until it was under my balls and then she began to move it from side to side. The sensations were wonderful and my cock began to stand up, stirring slightly in time with Miss Susan’s movements.

 

“Hmmm,” even in that one sound I could tell that she had smiled at my reaction and then pulling the scarf upwards until my sack popped back underneath it and she began to wind it loosely around my hard dick before sliding it back off again.

 

“Ohhh!” I shuddered at the sensations I was experiencing. As much as I loved to feel my hand holding on tight and the throbbing that firmness produced, this lightness, this feather-like movement, was driving me towards a full erection just as quickly.

 

“I think it looks so pretty on your penis that I’m going to leave it there.” With that Miss Susan carefully tied it so it was firmly secured around the base of my cock and I discovered softness could also result in hard throbbing.

 

“I forgot I had this, but it could come in handy.” She pulled the scarf away from my eyes and I could see the bow she had tied around my hard rod and also the other thing Miss Susan had brought into the room, a Polaroid camera. Nowadays she would use a mobile phone, but they had yet to arrive on the scene, and so this was the only instant way to take pictures.

 

Carefully Miss Susan lined up a shot of me, smiling as she did so.

 

“I wonder if your sisters would like a copy of this?” The idea, which horrified me, still went straight from my brain to my cock and it got even harder.

 

“No, Miss Susan, please, please don’t send it.”

 

“Oh, why not? You look so cute, your little penis in a fancy wrapping, your hands and feet tied tightly, leaving your body open to me, your nipples just waiting to be pinched and pulled. After all you’ve told me, I’m sure they would love to see you like this.”

 

“Please, no, please.” I began pulling on my bonds, I loved my sisters, and they had shown me a side of myself I knew I couldn’t live without, but if they saw this, well they might want me to tell them all about it, might even want to tie me up in the same way, and I didn’t think I would be able to cope with that. The two of them had taught me well, but Miss Susan was so special to me, so wonderful, and I had begun to realise that there were things I no longer wanted them to know.

 

“Well, I will have to see how I feel. Of course, you may well be able to persuade me, with your actions this morning, that this is something we should keep between us, or between those people I choose to tell about it, other than your sisters.”

 

I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly; she was going to show photos of me to other people? Pictures of me with a bow tied around my dick, my arms and legs secured with scarves. How could she do that?

 

“Now, before I take any more snaps there are a few things we need to do. Let me see.” Miss Susan pulled open the drawer of her nightstand and took out a shaver, not one like I usually used but a ladies pink coloured one. As I watched in horror she began to remove all the hair from my armpits, skating the shaver back and forth until she was satisfied that they were smooth before moving on to my chest and removing what little hair I had there. I was sure she was finished but then, after sliding a pillow beneath me, and with a smile that could only be described as worrying, she moved further down, blew across the head of my dick and then began putting some thick pink stuff on me with a spatula! I cringed back from the cold, my cock retreating a little as well, and then my eyes opened wide as she also slathered it on down across my anus before finally putting everything on the nightstand and smiling.

 

“Now what shall we do for the time it takes to work?” Her smile was one of a cat that had found the cream, and planned to enjoy it. She leant forward and flicked my nipples, before gently running a long nail over my chest, down towards my dick, teasing me successfully even though I knew she wouldn’t want to touch the glop I was currently wearing.

 

Finally she prodded about with the spatula again before untying me and sending me off into the bathroom for a shower.

 

“And I don’t want to see any hair when you return, understand?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.”

 

I’m not sure how I kept my cool. All my hair was gone from around my ball sack as well as my cock and rear passage, I knew this because when I returned to the bedroom Miss Susan made me lie down again before she held up a mirror and then proceeded to move everything around until I had seen it from all angles.

 

“I don’t usually buy this in bulk, but I don’t want to run out. I’ll put it on my shopping list for next week.”

 

I didn’t want to know how often it would be done. I had an awful feeling though that it would become a part of a regular routine I’d rather not think about, so I just nodded and replied meekly.

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.”

 

“Now, that’s done, we can have some fun. How is your little penis feeling?” With that she flicked the top with her finger, sending pain radiating down the shaft.

 

“Arghhh,” I rose off the bed, but Miss Susan just looked at me.

 

“If I touch you, in any way on your penis or your testicles you will show your appreciation. Is that understood?” I nodded but soon realised that was not acceptable. “Answer my question.” She flicked the top once more, harder this time, and I shook in excitement and pain.

 

“Ohhh … oh, thank you, Miss Susan, it is feeling very full.”

 

“Really? And these?” Again she reached down, but this time took my balls into her hand before twisting them around so that they were no longer facing the way they should.

 

“Arghhh, please, Miss Susan … th … thank you, Miss Susan.”

 

“Please? Please what? Do you want more?” Now she was pulling them away from my body, the pain getting more and more intense, and then, at the same time, she suddenly took my cock into her mouth, sucking on the tip as she continued to torture me until I couldn’t process the feelings, the differing emotions, and I began to babble.

 

“Ohhhh, that’s wonderful … hurts so much … please, Miss Susan, don’t stop … no, no more, thank you, please…” My words faded away and slowly, her eyes on my face, Miss Susan sucked up my shaft until it popped out of her luscious mouth and stood proud. Now all I had left was the agony in my balls, but thankfully, after one more, not so gentle, tug, Miss Susan let them go too.

 

“You are definitely a pain slut, my sweet boy. Look at you, still all hard and ready for the next thing that is going to happen to you, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan, whatever you want to do to me. I … I love it.” I blushed as I spoke; somehow agreeing with what Miss Susan said was far harder than just going along with everything she did.

 

“I think so far you have had all the fun. Now it is my turn. I am going to give you five minutes to make me climax as many times as possible, think you are up to the task?”

 

I didn’t know what to say, or what was going to happen next. I had never been tied to a bed before, never been shaved either and so, naively, I had no real idea of how I was going to do as I had been told. I knew that my sisters could cum more than once, but I didn’t know how many times it could happen in five minutes. How would I know if I had been successful or not? What would happen if I disappointed her? My mind was in turmoil and then, with far more grace than I know I would have had, Miss Susan straddled my body and placed her fanny lips just out of reach of my own lips and tongue.

 

“I am expecting great things, Martin, after all, you did so well last night.” With that she lowered herself onto my face and immediately I was surrounded by her wonderful aroma, by the softness of her skin and I began to lick, backwards and forwards, lubricating everything before I really got down to business.

 

~*~

 

Miss Fiona and Miss Martha had introduced me to cunnilingus, taking me through each stage of the process over and over again, sometimes for hours at a time. Now, as I began to suck her labia into my mouth, I remembered and heard their voices.

 

“Don’t nip, not until I tell you to, ahhh, that’s it, mmm, suck me, ohhhh, yes, you are a natural.” Miss Fiona had me on my knees, my hands behind my back and my head between her legs. Miss Martha was sitting in a chair one hand playing with her own pussy, the other teasing her sister’s nipples as she lay back on my bed.

 

The softness of the skin was always a turn on for me, I loved the feel of it, the way it moulded itself around my tongue or parted for me as I ran the length from one end of her slit to the other. I could feel her begin to shake and knew I was about to receive my first reward, my mouth suddenly full of the most wonderfully tasting nectar, it always made me speed up and her shaking became bucking.

 

“My clit, now, as hard as you like.” I teased my sister; my speed was gone, I licked at a normal pace, keeping her going but not enough to take her over the edge. It was the only time I was in that position, I was in charge, not that I’d ever admit it! Finally I reached her little hard button and again I sucked, this time taking it into my mouth before running my teeth over it.

 

“Oh, God, Martin, don’t tease, you will be sorry, if you tease ... Arghhh!” Her words were cut off by my teeth finally taking hold of their target and this time I was flooded with juices as her body reared up on the bed, became rigid and then collapsed back into a flurry of tremulous movements.

 

~*~

 

Miss Susan tasted different, it wasn’t unpleasant, far from it, and I revelled in the tang as slowly I built up my speed, my intensity, just as I had been taught. I kissed along her wet, shiny skin and, as I raised my eyes for a second, saw her hands grasping her breasts, the nipples already tight and extended.

 

“Don’t stop, Martin, don’t stop.” I had no intention of doing so; in fact I was only just beginning. Last night had been wonderful, but this morning, as the sun shone on me and I began to suck on her petals I felt more at ease, this was my place and I intended to keep it.

 

I rolled my tongue as tight as I could and firmly ran it along the surface of her lips until it disappeared inside, sucking up juices like a small straw. My face was now close to her skin; I’d shaved the previous afternoon, in an effort to pass the time, and my stubble must have caused a pleasant friction because Miss Susan reached down and pulled me even closer.

 

“Rub me, not too much, but let me feel it.” Her words, coming out in short gasps, only spurred me on and as I fucked her with my tongue I let my chin move against her, my nose pressed up against her clit and my hands held in tight fists.

 

I don’t know how long I continued, I felt Miss Susan move forwards a little and I stopped the rubbing, but instead I traced my tongue up until it was nudging her clit, causing more moans and another pull on my hair.

 

“Use you fingers, push them in me, now!” Miss Susan moved off me as she spoke and I did as I was told, the squelching noises the action caused only making me more excited and I used my other hand on her clit, not hard, but firm enough to make her squeal out and I increased the pace of my two fingers forcing their way in and out, over and over, until her vagina began to tense up, to tighten, and then, after a moment when all was quiet and still, apart from the noises I was making, a torrent was unleashed, of words, actions and love juices.

 

“Oh, oh … I’m … now, Martin, don’t stop, cumming … cumming ARGHHHHH!” Miss Susan’s body arched up but I refused to relinquish my grip on her, instead I continued fucking her and playing with her, keeping her in suspended animation until she could take it no more and collapsed back onto the bed where her eyes closed and her body, for a minute at least, shut down.

 

~*~

 

I learnt during breakfast that Miss Susan was an interior designer. She worked at home because by the time she had driven into town all her ideas had evaporated into the smog and pollution. Her ambition, she said, was to become respected enough to be able to move out into the country, set up a studio there and not have to worry about the city at all.

 

That dream came true when she was chosen to work on one of the first reality DIY shows on TV, and now our home is a beautiful Tudor mansion on the edge of the New Forest, the stable block has been converted, she has a studio there and I have an office. I run a very successful builders’ merchants and specialist renovations company and have even appeared on shows with Miss Susan explaining some of the work that needed to be done before her finer details could be started.

 

The third stable in the row is kept locked during the day, or whenever we have business clients visiting us. When it is open though my life takes on a decidedly different hue, I am no longer the respected managing director, but a sissy slave who gets off on being humiliated, punished and sometimes even ignored totally.

 

I am jumping ahead though, which I wanted to do, but not quite so far. The day I have in mind began to get exciting and worrying as I finished clearing away the breakfast dishes about three months after that first meal and six weeks after I had moved in with Miss Susan. One of her friends, Miss Lucy, who knew my status in life, was also there, having stayed overnight. I had wondered what would happen, fantasizing a little about threesomes, extra humiliation and denial, but it had been instead an evening which I had spent alone, Miss Susan and Miss Lucy having gone into town to catch a show and a meal, activities I wasn’t included in. I had been asleep in Miss Susan’s bed when they returned, but I had set up the sofa in the lounge so that Miss Lucy wouldn’t need to do anything but wash and go straight to sleep.

 

“Well, my sweet boy, I’ve finished re-decorating your bedroom. I know you have been anxious to get in there, too anxious in fact. Before you are able to see it, there is the little matter of punishment for your inability to adhere to my instructions.” Miss Susan spoke to me as she ate her breakfast.

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I was standing beside my mistress’s chair, my duties over for the moment, and as my cock stirred in my panties Miss Susan saw it.

 

“Martin.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.”

 

“Are your knickers getting too small for you?” She reached out and grasped the head of my cock, squeezed it so I could feel her nails, and then let go. I had been horrified when Miss Susan had told me that I would only wear my panties to serve breakfast, just as I did when we were alone. That had been bad, but now she was talking about them and playing with me at the same time.

 

“I … I don’t think so, Miss Susan.” I had clenched my fists so I didn’t cry out, but I know the pain sounded in my voice.

 

“Oh, only they do look a little snug, don’t you think, Lucy?” Her friend nodded in agreement, enjoyment obvious in her eyes. “How long have you had those pretty things?”

 

“A week, Miss Susan.”

 

“And how long have you been wearing knickers?”

 

“Two months, Miss Susan, I think.” I wasn’t totally certain, and so looked up anxiously.

 

“Tell Miss Lucy why are you wearing them?”

 

I didn’t answer, my face flushed as pink as my panties and I looked down to the ground. I saw Miss Susan stand up and then felt the leather of her crop, which she always kept close by, as she placed it under my chin and raised my eyes to hers.

 

“I do believe I asked you a question. What happens when you do not answer these questions? Especially in front of visitors?”

 

“You beat me, Miss Susan.”

 

“Beat? Beat? That is such an ugly word. Chastise, Martin, I chastise you. So, this is your final chance, why are you wearing panties?”

 

If Miss Lucy hadn’t been there, hadn’t been smirking and enjoying my discomfort I think I would have been able to reply, but as it was my lips wouldn’t work, my brain refused to send the correct signals and I remained mute.

 

“Assume the position.”

 

I couldn’t believe Miss Susan would do this not in front of someone, and yet, as much as I would rather the ground swallow me up, my heart rate increased and I felt the familiar buzz of excitement that went with abject humiliation.

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I had various places where my punishments would take place. In the kitchen it was over the island. This was one of the most painful as the front was solid and each stroke of the hand, whip or cane smashed my dick against the wood, but painful or not my erection could not be kept at bay.

 

The dining area was sparsely but beautifully furnished, there was an octagonal shaped table with a middle leg that had base supports coming out from it. My position was to lie across the top with my legs spread wide. I was then attached by my ankles to two of the supports, leaving me vulnerable to whatever type of reprimand Miss Susan decreed.

 

The fact that the table was wooden in the middle with a clear glass outer rim only showed my reactions all the more clearly and, as I took up my position, Miss Lucy realised if she remained in her seat she had an uninterrupted view of all the action. Miss Susan walked round behind me and pulled my pink panties down to my knees, where they were stretched out, a constant reminder of why I was in this position in the first place.

 

“For your refusal to follow instructions this morning I will strike you ten times with the crop. You will be given the chance after five to tell Miss Lucy why you are wearing panties. Once they are done you will receive another ten.”

 

“Why, Miss Susan?” The breakfast things had been moved aside and I was now tied, my feet immovable and my hands, which had no actual support to be tied to, were grasping the edges of the table and I knew better than to move them so I was unable to look anywhere but straight at Miss Lucy.

 

“Are you questioning me?” Miss Susan ran the crop across my buttocks as she spoke and I shivered.

 

“No, Miss Susan.”

 

“Good, now as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, you will receive another ten for peeking in your new room before it was done. And don’t deny it, I know you have been in there.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” My voice came out as a whisper, and I wished fervently that I hadn’t allowed myself to open the door and look at all Miss Susan had done for me while she had been out the previous evening. Now my shame at being caught was absolute and I knew I deserved that part of my punishment unreservedly.

 

“You will keep count.” With that the crop descended, forcing my body against the table and my need for a deep intake of breath.

 

THWACK

 

“One, thank you, Miss Susan, more please.”

 

THWACK

 

“Two, thank you, Miss Susan, more please.”

 

THWACK

 

Now they were really beginning to hurt and, as I continued to count, my voice wavered.

 

“Th … three … thank you … Miss … Susan, more please.”

 

THWACK

 

“Arghhh … please … Miss Susan … f … f … four … thank you.”

 

THWACK

 

The fifth one was the hardest so far and my tears were now dripping onto the table, my knuckles were white and I hurried my reply out so as not to annoy Miss Susan further.

 

“Now, my sweet boy, would you like to tell Miss Lucy why you wear panties?” Miss Susan ran her long nails over my hot cheeks as she spoke and the pain increased.

 

“Please … please, Miss Susan, don’t make me.”

 

“Very well, you will have another five, if you cannot tell then I will increase your punishment for this offence by five more and so it will go on until you do as you are told.” Miss Susan’s words hung in the air and I shuddered. My mistress was very strong, the force of each stroke would knock me off my feet if I weren’t supported by the table and I didn’t think I could cope with the extra strokes and then my bedroom punishment on top of that.

 

“I will try to tell her, Miss Susan.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it, you may begin. Oh, and as I expect you to play with yourself as you do so, I suggest you stand up.” My feet were released and I stood before my Mistress and her friend, my panties now around my ankles and my cock already throbbing in anticipation of what was to come.

 

My hand began to play with my shaft, a blush rushing up my chest and onto my face as I began to talk, explaining, maybe more than necessary, to Miss Lucy about what had happened.

 

~*~

 

The early stages of our relationship had been wonderful. Miss Susan had indeed sent me home on that first Monday, but only because she had an appointment to keep. As I worked for the rest of the week and was usually tired by the time I arrived home we arranged for me to once again spend the weekend with Miss Susan. Our weekend though began on Saturday evening and ended on the Monday.

 

This I told Miss Lucy as my hand moved gently along my shaft, which I now knew, thanks to Miss Susan’s tape measure, was almost six and a half inches long when fully erect. Gradually, over the first month I had been introduced to more and more things. The bulk of them to humiliate or hurt me and pleasure Miss Susan.

 

On the second Saturday evening I had once again cooked the meal, Miss Susan telling me how she enjoyed working in the kitchen, but was quite happy to hand the responsibility to me whenever I was there. After our meal was eaten I had been shaved again, and Miss Susan had told me to bend over the table for the first time.

 

“This, my sweet boy, is one of my favourite things. You will find out that it is one of yours too.” The words, although not a command, seemed to me to be an instruction I would do well to follow, although at that moment I wasn’t sure what she meant. Then I felt something warm drip down my bottom and I tried to stand, to move away.

 

“Oh no, you stay right there.” Her hand slapped against me and I froze just in time to feel her begin to rub a finger down between my cheeks until she stopped right on the tight little bud that resided there.

 

“Relax, my sweet boy, take a deep breath and push backwards.”

 

My hand was moving faster on my cock now and I tried to slow down. Miss Susan had been right, I did enjoy it, but that day it had been painful, painful and humiliating, and I’d loved it all.

 

“Ohhh, Miss Susan, no, not there, it hurts too much.” The finger up my anus was probing, feeling its way and I thought my legs would falter.

 

“Shhh, this is nothing, it will get easier and you will soon be able to take far more, and keep it in for as long as I tell you.”

 

“Arghhh.” Another finger had joined the first and I banged my fist on the table, “Please, Mistress, no … ohhhh!” I felt my cock lurch and saw, to my amazement, cum leak from its tip.

 

“That, my sweet boy, is your prostate! I can make you cum any time I like, and even with all your strength of mind, you won’t be able to resist.”

 

Just to prove herself Miss Susan massaged my prostate until I shot a load underneath the table, splattering it against the upright where it promptly began running down to pool on the floor.

 

~*~

 

“Please, Miss Susan, Miss Lucy, may I cum now?” I had never related my sexual escapades to anyone other than Miss Susan before and couldn’t believe how horny it made me feel.

 

“No, of course not. This is an exercise in punishment not reward.”

 

“I’m sorry, Miss Susan, Miss Lucy, please forgive me.”

 

“Continue and I will think about it.” The riding crop came down on my backside and I took a step forward.

 

“Thank you, Miss Susan, for reminding me of my place.”

 

~*~

 

I had been made to lick up my cum that day and from then on my anus was regularly violated. Miss Susan had been right, it did get a little easier with practice, and I did enjoy it. Sometimes, with clothes pegs on my nipples and my balls, my cock done up in a pretty bow, she would fuck my arse until I was almost incoherent with lust. I would beg on my knees to cum, licking her pussy, sucking on her wonderful tits, doing whatever she wanted, but almost every time I was denied and she would leave me alone without permission to touch myself and relieve the pressure.

 

That pressure had built up gradually, until six weeks ago she had tormented me for more than two hours. The pegs had been taken off and replaced over and over, the blood rushing back to cause pain, and then been restricted again, causing more pain. My cock, encased in silk from base to tip had been stroked, licked, flicked and had the scarf unwound countless times and in the end I had begged her to either let me cum or to stop. I had never asked Miss Susan this before.

 

She knew how much I loved her tits and held them in front of me, just far enough away that the tip of my tongue couldn’t reach them. I had been attached to the bedpost, sometimes standing, sometimes kneeling, depending on my mistress’s whim, but now I was leaning as far forward as I could.

 

“I will stop, even though you haven’t used your safe word, but not because you want to, but because I have some work to complete. You will stay in here until I call you.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” She untied my wrists but left everything else attached to me, and made her way towards the door.

 

“You may not cum, my sweet boy, remember that.”

 

I wasn’t sure what to do; if I lay down on the bed I knew I would rub myself against the covers, dislodging the pegs and making myself cum all over the sheets. If I kept my hands in front of me I knew my cock would be held in a split second and so I paced, first of all around the bed, then back. I went into the bathroom, I even considered tidying it, but my arousal was such that it was a futile thought.

 

Finally, I returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed. The top drawer of Miss Susan’s nightstand was slightly open and I pulled it a little more until all her tiny, sexy knickers were exposed to my view. Without thinking I pulled the top pair out, they were pink, the lace was sheer and as I held them to my nose I inhaled the scent of her washing powder as well as a lingering aroma of her perfume.

 

I heard myself groan and before I knew it the silk scarf was on the floor, my cock was wrapped in the flimsy material and I was rubbing myself frantically knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop. The denial, along with the eroticism of Miss Susan’s underwear, sent me over the edge and my spunk shot out into the lace in four strong spurts.

 

For a moment I sat, trembling with the exertion of such a powerful ejaculation, and then, closing my eyes as I did so, I raised the panties to my lips and began to suck the cum from them.

 

“Well, this is a pretty sight.”

 

I turned quickly, losing my balance and falling to the floor, the messy knickers in my hand and cum on my lips as I tried to scramble to my knees and beg for forgiveness.

 

“So, you like my panties do you? So much, in fact that you disobey a direct instruction in order to play with them. Did I tell you that you were not to cum?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I couldn’t look up, but equally I couldn’t let go of my prize.

 

“And not only do I find that you have disobeyed, but you have rummaged through my belongings. Crawl to me!”

 

~*~

 

My hand was pumping again, my breath coming in gasps as I looked at my mistress and Miss Lucy.

 

“Please, Miss Susan, I need to cum, I … I can’t hold it.”

 

“Very well, you know what you must do, don’t you?”

 

“Yes … Miss Susan.” I picked up my knickers from the floor and wrapped them around my cock. Telling Miss Lucy was one thing, actually performing for her was another, and for a moment my excitement faded, but the feel of the material, the sensation as it slid up and down my skin soon began to work and my cock extended out from the end of the panties, hard, engorged and ready for release.

 

“Please …” I fell to my knees, my whole being was concentrated in my cock and I knew without her permission I would be in big trouble.

 

“What do you think, Lucy, should we allow him to ejaculate?”

 

Miss Lucy leant down and took a closer look at my dick.

 

“Oh yes, I think so, but only if he eats it all, every last drop, from wherever it lands.”

 

That was it, as I heard ‘yes’ I roared, and the first part of my load shot out and onto the floor almost two feet in front of me. The rest of my cum followed, some of it also hitting the floor, the rest running down to soak into my knickers. I carefully ran them up my now shrinking dick and caught every last drop before raising the panties to my mouth and sucking the creamy liquid in.

 

“I used my cane on him, front and back until I was sure that he had learnt his lesson.” Miss Susan took over the story, knowing I wasn’t able to form a coherent sentence, let alone finish my tale. “When I finished I realized he still had the knickers in his hand and that was when I decided if he liked them so much, he would wear them instead of me. I allowed him to wash and keep that pair, but not until he had worn them for the rest of the day. I told him I wouldn’t want them back, and every now and again I make him cum in them and then wear them, as he did that first time.”

 

“What, even to work?”

 

“Martin?”

 

“Yes, Miss Lucy, I always wear ladies panties underneath my overalls when I am working, I’m not allowed to wear pants any longer.”

 

Miss Lucy laughed. It was a pretty, sweet noise, but still I blushed. No one had known my secret, but now I had been forced to share. The excitement of that was making my heart continue to race, even after I had come down from my sexual high, and I wondered eagerly how long it would be before Miss Susan decided to tell someone else of our secrets.

 

 

 

 

 

04

The noise from Miss Susan’s party told me that everyone was having a good time. It was the second gathering she had hosted inside three days but for her at least, this was the far more enjoyable. The first get-together, a celebration of Miss Susan’s new job on national television, had been for colleagues from work, business clients, and her bank manager. Although Miss Susan worked at home she still had people she saw maybe three or four times a month when she went into town to discuss her plans and ideas. I had been present for the whole party, resplendent in a new dark blue suit with a shirt in a paler shade and a dark tie. I had thoroughly enjoyed myself, standing at her side, not quite an equal but obviously her personal guest for the evening.

 

Tonight though was entirely different. Tonight I was dressed in new clothes once again; only this time the colours were blue and pink with frills. I had on a pair of panties, which were underneath a pair of tight jeans. Once I had finished the cooking I had changed, there was no top laid out for me and I knew I would be on display. To my horror I had seen that the jeans, although smart and tidy were worn very low on the hips whereas my panties were much deeper and no matter how I tried I couldn’t get the denim to hide the lace band at the top. I realized this was no error on Miss Susan’s part and, swallowing hard, had left the room for my inspection only to have the panties pulled up even higher, giving me a very uncomfortable wedgie and the guests an uninterrupted view of my underwear. It also gave me a very hard cock; I loved the feel of the silky material, and the knowledge that everyone was in no doubt as to what I was wearing and why. I knew I would be in a constant state of arousal until I was allowed release.

 

We had been together for five years, I was a boy no longer, my work had given me, so Miss Susan told me, a body to be proud of, and she intended that I should show it off for her friends who either practised a similar lifestyle to our own, or at least knew all about it. I had done this on numerous occasions in the past but never to so many at once. The whole thing was a bit daunting to say the least.

 

For now though, I was not needed, there would be no place for me at the dinner table, and I had finished all the tidying up. I slipped out through the kitchen door, down the hallway and into my own room, closing the door tightly behind me. The bed wasn’t used very often, I spent most nights with Miss Susan, but it was there for when she was away or if I had been punished by isolation. It was also used for teasing, torture and all the stages in-between. The bed had four posts, one at each corner and there were holes at different heights going up. Sometimes I was cuffed to them, or tied with scarves. My ankles could also be attached higher than my wrists leaving me open for all sorts of different activities!

 

There were straps too, which came across from the sides and held my legs if I was on all fours, or could be used with the ones at chest height to hold me immobile but with my hands free to pleasure my Mistress. These were hidden under the bed for the most part, but would set my pulse racing even if I just saw them when I was cleaning.

 

With the meal in full flow and the pet of one of Miss Susan’s friends providing a waitress service I undid the snap on my jeans, pulled them down a little and then lay on the satin sheets, which Miss Susan insisted I use. My dick felt so wonderful encased in its silky sheath and for a minute I ran my hand along its length, enjoying the sensations while knowing that I would be in for a very long night. I had a ring around my cock which also separated my balls and made it extremely difficult for me to cum, even with permission, and I had no doubt that I would be expected to show everyone what happened to me while I was wearing it before the evening was over.

 

I lay back and closed my eyes, but just knowing that the conversations around the table in the other room would be centred on sex, bondage and experiences that Miss Susan and her friends had shared made it impossible for me to think of anything but my relationship with my mistress. I would be expected to retell the details of some of our sessions when I was called into the dining room. Ever since the day I had told Miss Lucy why I was wearing panties Miss Susan had insisted that I spend some of each social gathering being a storyteller. Tonight would be no different, except for the size of the audience, and that thought excited me, causing me to get even harder. There were three men here this evening, I had never told another man what I did, or why. That too would change tonight.

 

I must have dozed off; I remember hazy images from a dream of Miss Susan and her guests, holding the type of lorgnette that a decorated mask could be attached to, coming towards me, touching, sometimes kissing, sometimes slapping, and laughing, always laughing. I knew I was on my knees, crying tears of desperation whilst anxiously listening for Miss Susan’s command to cum.

 

“Martin, you need to wake up now.” Miss Susan’s voice and her hand on my shoulder finally broke through my cobweb filled mind and I opened my eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss Susan.” I leapt to my feet, pulling my jeans over my now fairly soft erection and blushing profusely as I saw the door was wide open and I could be seen by all of the guests who were in the hallway looking in my direction.

 

“Yes, well, your tardiness will have to be dealt with later, but now you are needed in the lounge.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” My heart sank, I hadn’t meant to fall asleep but it had been a busy week and it had also been the first time I’d had to myself for at least three days. Slowly I knelt down at Miss Susan’s feet; I didn’t want to leave the room without her knowing how sorry I was.

 

“Go, I said we will deal with this later. Do not annoy me further.”

 

It was obvious that, for the time being at least, I could do nothing right and so I once again got to my feet, but this time I did as I had been told.

 

~*~

 

The lounge had only been re-decorated a month earlier, the cream and fawns I had become so used to being replaced by more citrus-based yellows, oranges and greens. I hadn’t liked the idea when Miss Susan first mentioned it but none of the shades were bright and as she had applied her magic touch a wonderfully calming oasis had risen before my eyes and now I loved it.

 

There were, just for a few days, the addition of congratulatory greetings cards from Miss Susan’s friends and family, all of them delighted she was to be a regular presenter on one of the most popular DIY shows on television. Miss Susan was already looking in the newspapers and specialist journals for a place in the country where we could live our lives in a way that suited us far more than the restricted and cramped conditions of her flat allowed.

 

The six guests were all seated comfortably, brandy snifters in the hands of the men and white wine for the ladies. Miss Susan was very conservative in many ways, rules were to be adhered to and I knew, once we did move out of the town, she would expect the men and women to part company and enjoy separate activities after dinner was finished.

 

I noticed that the pet who had been waitressing was bent over slightly as she leant against the wall next to the coffee table, her skirt lifted up and tucked into its own waistband and I looked over at Miss Susan to find out what was going on.

 

“Before you take centre stage, my sweet boy, Jade is to receive ten strokes with the crop for spilling coffee over the lap of Miss Lucy.”

 

I turned and saw Miss Susan’s best friend was now wearing one of my mistresses evening gowns and I had an awful feeling I should have been awake to help her change. As if reading my mind Miss Susan spoke to me again, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

 

“I expected you to be available to assist Miss Lucy, as it was she had to deal with a sobbing Jade and a coffee soaked gown alone. For that you too will receive ten strokes once the first punishment has been carried out.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” I averted my eyes, it was still unusual for me to be punished in company, and I wanted to turn and run. No one would know that I was dreading it however, for my cock pushed against the strong material of my jeans, tenting them as much as it could and the thought of everyone seeing me being reprimanded made me groan aloud.

 

Jade was the pet of one of Miss Susan’s male friends and he got to his feet, placed his cigar in a large crystal ashtray and then took the crop into his left hand from its place on the coffee table next to the shaking young girl. It always looked very long, thin and dangerous to me, but in the hands of a six foot three, ex-rugby player it took on the appearance of a tooth pick and I began to wonder whether it would survive long enough to be used on me.

 

“Do you know why you are being punished this way, wench?” The voice, deep and Welsh, resonated around the room causing the tension to increase by at least six notches.

 

“Yes, Sir. I … I was clumsy and I spilled coffee on Miss Lucy. I apologise to her and you, Sir, it was an accident.”

 

“I see, do you apologise to me for humiliating me in front of my friends, for showing them what a useless piece of baggage I have to carry around with me, or are you just doing it to save your arse?”

 

“No, no, Sir, I know I deserve to be punished, I am apologising because I have upset you and your friends. I wouldn’t do that for the world, Sir, I love you and I’m truly sorry.”

 

I don’t know what it was about hearing someone else beg for forgiveness but I found myself very aroused and anxious to see the punishment being carried out.

 

The gentleman, who I knew was called Master Jack, raised the crop and swung it through the air with a swish. Jade shook visibly but the leather didn’t make contact with her lily-white skin.

 

“You will count for me. Are you ready?”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

SWISH

 

“One, Master.”

 

SWISH

 

“Two, Master.”

 

The sound of the leather as it struck home was so loud that there was no doubt it was also extremely painful. Everyone watched, fascinated, and I knew when my turn came I too would be the focus of everyone’s attention. I heard Jade call out ten through her tears and swallowed hard, praying that I wouldn’t let Miss Susan down any further.

 

“As you don’t have a little skirt on you will remove your jeans for me.” Miss Susan’s voice had changed; it was now hard and cold. She was in control and I knew that to consider doing anything other than obey her would be futile.

 

I carefully stepped out of my trousers, folded them in half and placed them on the floor by the side of one of the armchairs.

 

“Such pretty panties, don’t you agree, Jack?” Miss Susan spoke to the Master who had just finished his own punishment.

 

“Very pretty, you spoil him, Susan. Come here, boy.”

 

I did as I was told, not wanting to infuriate this man, who had the ability to render me a gibbering idiot should he choose.

 

“He is rock hard, Susan, I thought this was supposed to be a punishment.” His hand around my cock felt so different to that of my Mistress. Where hers was soft and gentle, his was hard, calloused and more than a little rough.

 

“He gets off on the pain, but I make sure it hurts him too. I have other punishments, but not ones that are suitable to complete whilst you are here.”

 

“Let me deal with him. I’ll make sure he remembers this for a long while.” Master Jack smiled, earlier in the evening it made him look younger, more handsome, but now it only succeeding in making him even more scary than he had been just minutes before.

 

“What a wonderful idea. Martin, thank Master Jack for offering to punish you himself.”

 

“Please, no, Miss Susan, please punish me. I am yours.” I was panicking, babbling, as I usually did when things got too far out of control for me, but Miss Susan laughed, the fury in her eyes reserved just for me.

 

“Get over to the wall, the punishment will now be fifteen strokes and crawl.”

 

I fell to my knees, I already had tears in my eyes, and I made my way across the room to sniggers from the two men and three women who were watching the scene unfold.

 

“Stand, boy.” Master Jack took my hair in his hand and helped me to my feet. I still wore it long and he was able to get a firm hold. “Your mistress treats you very well and this is how you repay her, I have to say I am appalled. You will assume the same position as my wench.”

 

“Yes, Sir.” I did as I was told immediately. At least standing that way I wouldn’t be able to see my audience.

 

“I don’t think I will remove these, they suit you far too well.” Master Jack paused for a moment and I wondered what he would do. His own pet had been naked under her skirt and so her panties hadn’t been a problem. “Instead I think you should keep them like this.” He grabbed a hold of each lacy leg and then forced them up into the crack of my arse until both cheeks were exposed and the front portion was doing nothing more than moulding my cock and balls to its own limited shape.

 

“So, boy, do you have anything to say before we begin?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” I didn’t move from my position, knowing that would only increase my punishment. I wasn’t used to being cropped in this way and I felt very vulnerable. “I am sorry I fell asleep and was unable to attend to my duties. It won’t happen again. I deserve all of my punishment and would ask you to begin when you are ready, Sir.”

 

“Very well. You too will count.”

 

SWISH

 

“One … Mi … Sir.” I hadn’t had the luxury of a slight pause and the crop seemed to leave an indentation so deep that it should have reached my bones.

 

SWISH

 

“Ow … two … Sir.”

 

The second strike seemed to be in almost the exact same spot as the first and when the third one landed there also I knew Master Jack was placing his strokes exactly where he wanted them for most effect.

 

SWISH

 

“Three … Sir.” I could feel tears now and willed them away. I could also feel my cock straining against my panties and I didn’t know whether I wanted to protect or pump myself. Before I could think straight the fourth strike made contact, harder than the previous three and I moved forward a step as I was enveloped in pain.

 

When the fifteenth strike had been completed I collapsed to the floor, tears on my face and pre-cum staining my panties. I was breathing so hard I could see bright lights in front of my eyes and I was a mass of pain. I felt the crop as it was pushed against me, Master Jack was searching out my hard on, and then he used a hand to press my back to the carpet and all the guests could see my shame.

 

“You can have a minute, then I will expect you to be on your feet, understand?”

 

“Yes … yes, Sir. Master Jack.”

 

I know I had a little longer than that while the merits of the punishment were discussed as if I wasn’t there. Jade had disappeared, I didn’t see her again for the rest of the evening and no explanation was given for her leaving. Finally I was made to kneel in the middle of the room after my panties were removed and, with one hand on my rock hard cock, and the other massaging my heavy balls, I began telling stories of my humiliations over the years until I was begging to be allowed to cum in front of them all.

 

Miss Susan, who seemed to have passed my ownership to Master Jack for the evening looked in his direction when I had been refused permission for the fourth time. She knew I wouldn’t be able to hold on very much longer and I watched in apprehension as the tall man came over and, once again, hauled me to my feet.

 

“So, boy, you want to cum do you?”

 

“Yes … please, Sir. I need to cum so badly. Please let me, Sir, please.” I wanted to fall to my knees once again but Sir still held me by my hair and then he reached out and placed his other hand around my throat.

 

I looked round in panic but Miss Susan was sitting, watching and obviously enjoying my predicament, as were her other guests. The pressure on my throat increased and I felt myself gagging against Master Jack’s hand until gradually I began to slip away and then I was gasping for air as he let me loose.

 

“Leave us. Do not touch yourself until Miss Susan gives you permission and be thankful that you don’t live with me!” Master Jack grasped my cock in his hand and then used my own lubrication to twist it around as he took my balls in his other hand and twisted them in the opposite direction. I cried out in agony, falling to my knees, which only made matters worse. Once I was down he let go and then, as if I no longer existed, turned and made his way back to his seat, leaving me rocking in agony, my own hands now cradling my genitals as I tried to regain some composure.

 

~*~

 

The things that happened to me at the party caused me to retreat inside myself and nothing Miss Susan did could change my mood or my memories. I felt betrayed by her because she hadn’t stepped in to rescue me. I also felt I had let myself down, not once arguing or walking away from a situation I wasn’t happy with. I hadn’t even thought of using my safe word until I was actually quite safe behind the closed and locked door of my own bedroom huddled under the covers shaking and crying long after the guests had left and Miss Susan had given up trying to get me to let her in to comfort me.

 

I had sold my flat four years earlier and so had nowhere to go to work through my confused thoughts and mixed up feelings. In the end, after a brief telephone conversation with my boss, I decided to go home for a long weekend to visit my parents and then do the tourist thing in London. None of my sisters lived at home and it was strange arriving at an almost empty house but, once I was settled back in my old room, in some ways I felt as if I had never left.

 

My mother was, I knew, itching to ask me what had happened but she was a model of constraint, and she even kicked my father underneath the dining table when he ventured to mention Miss Susan and our relationship. I slept until gone ten on both the Saturday and Sunday I was there, and only got up at nine on the Monday morning because I had a train to catch at eleven. After all my years away it was nice to go back, there was no pressure, no expectations to live up to, we just visited, chatted about old times and relived memories which were pleasant and in some cases hilariously funny. By the time I was sat in my seat on the train on the way to London I realised that although I hadn’t solved any problems I had relaxed and that in itself made my struggle less arduous and definitely less of a challenge to deal with.

 

London was its busy self and for four days I wandered around soaking up the ambience, the history and the crowds and again enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere and this time the anonymity that went with it. I began to find myself again, to understand what it was I wanted and didn’t want from my life and lifestyle and when I climbed into a taxi at our local train station a week after I had left I was more certain of what I had to do to get the future I deserved.

 

Miss Susan was out, it was a Friday and she would be in town for her usual meetings and planning sessions. I retrieved my car from the private car park and set off for the supermarket once I realized that there was nothing at home to eat and I was, for the first time in a week, starving.

 

I heard the key in the lock a little after seven and walked out of the kitchen to see Miss Susan standing in the hallway looking more vulnerable and unsure of herself than I could remember.

 

I had changed out of my holiday gear and was wearing a pair of older jeans; less restricting than the new ones I had worn the last time I was home, and a t-shirt, which said ‘kiss the chef’ on it. I had no idea what to say and so instead I indicated with my hand and let practicalities take over.

 

“The meal will be ten minutes, so you have time to get freshened up if you wish.”

 

“Thank you, Martin. I’ll do that.” Miss Susan disappeared into her room and I returned to the kitchen. My heart was beating so hard and loud in my chest that I was sure it would stop at any moment. I continued with what I was doing until I was aware of Miss Susan in the other room and then I began to serve up the first course before returning to the dining room and taking my seat at the table.

 

We ate in almost total silence, Miss Susan asking a few questions about my trip but I didn’t feel like talking and in the end she gave up. The meal was delicious, I had spent a lot of time on it and I could tell it was appreciated. Once we had finished Miss Susan retired to the lounge and I went into the kitchen to fetch the coffee. When I went to join her she looked at me and I saw a tear make its way down her cheek.

 

I stood before her, naked, as I had the first day we dined together, hoping that she would see this gesture for what it was, my clumsy way of trying to move forward whilst at the same time turning the clock back to redefine our relationship. I moved closer and fell to my knees, resting my forehead against her legs as I waited for her to speak.

 

“Martin, I need you to tell me what is going on. I am truly sorry for what happened last week and I can promise you that Jack won’t be invited to any further parties I host.”

 

I looked up, my own tears not too far from the surface, but I knew now wasn’t the time for me to break down or falter.

 

“I was wrong for falling asleep, but it was a genuine mistake. I had put a lot of effort into your parties, when I had the chance to finally relax I just drifted off.” Miss Susan nodded her head, but I didn’t give her the chance to speak. “I know in the lifestyle we have chosen to live together I deserved to be punished, but not by a stranger, and not in front of other people unless I agreed to go along with it. Miss Lucy was one thing, but five guests I didn’t know, that was too much. I felt more than humiliated, I felt used, and I get no pleasure from that.”

 

I moved back a little, I no longer needed to rest my head on her legs; instead I needed to see her reactions clearly, not by peering up at her.

 

“I could have used my safe word, I don’t deny that, but I was so terrified, so out of my depth, that it never occurred to me. I did all that you asked of me, all that you needed, last week, Miss Susan, but you did nothing that I needed from you. You promised, early on in our relationship, that it would be fully consensual, we seem to have moved away from that.”

 

I looked down, Miss Susan was crying openly now and I felt awful but I knew I had to continue.

 

“I should have said all of this last week, but I couldn’t. I loved you then and I love you now, but I didn’t have it in me at the time to even rationalize how I felt and what I wanted to do next, let alone explain it to anyone else. Now I do and I have. The rest is up to you.”

 

I stood up and put my hands behind me. I wanted Miss Susan to see that I was still hers, but more than that, I wanted her to see that I trusted her. We had both apologised, and now she had to make up her mind what she wanted from our relationship; for all I knew Miss Susan had made life altering decisions while I had been away too. She may no longer wish us to have any type of commitment to each other.

 

“Thank you, Martin, for coming back. I know you kept in touch, told me where you were each day and what you had done, but until I saw you this evening I had no idea if you would ever call this home again.” Miss Susan paused and wiped her eyes. “I have learnt a great deal this week, about you, about myself, about us. I don’t want to lose you, not even for a minute. You mean more to me than the lifestyle, the dominance or submission, you are the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I promise you, with all of my heart, that I will never, ever mistreat or let you be mistreated again and I am truly sorry that it happened even once. Please forgive me.”

 

I nodded, I had run out of words and then Miss Susan patted the sofa and I was beside her, not beneath or behind but beside her and we were kissing, kissing as lovers do, and I knew I was home.

 

~*~

 

The next year was a whirlwind. Miss Susan’s programme was a huge hit not only in the UK but also in America and we travelled extensively for almost nine months. Our relationship was back on track and we enjoyed getting to know each other again, taking each step openly and honestly, and enjoying every moment.

 

While we were away the builders were also very busy, converting the stable block at our new home into two offices and one totally bare but comfortable and functional room. Miss Susan had done all the interior design work, but it was actually carried out by colleagues of hers that she trusted well enough to make her house a home. We had wandered around, hand in hand, from room to room once the travelling was over for a while, both of us excited and almost speechless by what we had achieved.

 

I had taken over the builders’ merchants I had been working for since I was nineteen and I was now branching out into specialist areas that catered to the type of projects that were becoming more and more popular due to all the DIY shows on television. I was getting work on cable channels myself, and Miss Susan had decided that, if things continued the way they were, we would be able to retire in ten years.

 

All of that though was far from my mind at I stood in our new playroom, a room that Miss Susan had personally furnished, a room I hadn’t been allowed to see until it was completed. I was naked, as I often seemed to be these days, but I was more than confident in my relationship and my appearance and didn’t mind at all. At twenty-seven I had very little in common with the scrawny nineteen year old that Miss Susan had smiled at in the hallway of our old building. I still knelt at her feet, still licked her pussy until she screamed, and would do anything if only she would let me suck her tits, or even better, fuck my cock through them until she would step back, leaving me panting and desperate to shoot my load all over her nipples so that I could then suck and lick it off.

 

I had already been laid out on the rack, my arms pulled to their limits, my legs also, and then, with my head raised a little so I missed nothing, I had watched while first of all Miss Susan had pulled at her nipples, licking them as she pushed them towards her beautiful ruby red lips. I longed to reach out, to touch them as well, or to have them dipped into my mouth so that I could suckle on them. That wasn’t to be though, today was a special day and I had been told that good things would come to me only if I waited. Miss Susan just hadn’t said how long that wait would be.

 

Miss Susan had sat on me as I lay stretched out and vulnerable and I had sucked and nibbled at her until she had come over and over again, screaming out my name as she did so before leaning forward and taking my dick into her warm mouth and sucking me off until she felt the familiar sensations that meant I was close to cumming and then she had climbed off me and the rack and, almost nonchalantly, placed a bag of crushed ice on my cock and balls and laughed aloud as I shrank down to minimal proportions. That delightful torture had been repeated over and over, the heat of Miss Susan’s mouth followed by the agonizing cold of the ice, until I was crying and pleading for release, any sort of release.

 

I had then been freed but only so I could be bent over a horse; a padded one like the gymnasts’ use, and my hands had been cuffed at each end, my ankles were secured to the legs and I knew I was in trouble. A cat o nine tails had been used all over my back, the strands often finding their way between my legs and around my balls. I cried out, begging to be released, but Miss Susan had just smiled and struck me again. She had moved around so she stood in front of me and then the smile had got wider as she produced a pair of nipple clamps joined in the middle by a chain which she proceeded to attach to me, tightening them until my tears fell and I was begging to be free.

 

“My sweet boy, I have no intention of freeing you, in fact I may keep you here all night, after all, no one can hear you, or even knows the room is used for this purpose. I could leave now, draw the curtains and lock the door. You would be stuck until I returned. Of course, the painters will be here tomorrow, I could just ask them to open up for me.” Miss Susan pulled on the chain as she finished speaking and I moaned. The picture she painted, of the deprivation and the humiliation at being discovered, was turning me on even more than I was already and I felt my cock throb as she spoke.

 

“Please, Mistress, may I cum? Please.” I knew I would be denied, but I loved the idea of being naked and helpless and Miss Susan knew it.

 

“What would you do? If I let you ejaculate that is?”

 

“Anything, anything, Miss Susan. You could beat me, I would suck your pussy every night for a week and not ask to cum at all. Please, Miss Susan … plea …Arghhh.” I felt her hand wrap itself around me and then slowly, so slowly she began to pump up and down.

 

“You may not cum, I don’t think you need it enough yet.”

 

“Ohhhh.” I couldn’t believe it. She was playing with me, I could feel her other hand at my anus, first one finger, then two, then three inside me, moving in rhythm with my cock and driving me mad. I tried to pump back, tried to speed things up but Miss Susan just flicked my cock and forced her fingers apart in my arse and then suddenly she was gone, no contact, hardly any sound and tried to move, to see where she was, but couldn’t.

 

“Beg me, my sweet boy, beg to suck my penis, beg for that.”

 

I jumped at the sound but nodded. I didn’t know what she meant but I was so desperate now I would have agreed to just about anything.

 

“I’ll suck you, Miss Susan, if you had a cock I would suck it, I would take it all the way down my throat like you do for me. Please, Miss Susan, pretend you have a cock so I can suck it, then we can cum together.” I was getting into this, my mouth was making the noises Miss Susan made when she worked her way up and down my dick and she moved in front of me again and I could see she had put on a sort of harness with a long flesh coloured dildo attached to it.

 

“Oh, God!” My words came out as a groan and I felt my spunk boiling in my balls. “Please, Miss Susan, fuck my arse, let me suck you and then fuck me.” Six years we had been together and Miss Susan had never shown any inclination to use this type of thing. I had taken a dildo up the arse, but usually they had been put in and then my panties had been pulled up high and I would walk around all day on a Saturday with it in place. This was different, exciting, scary, and wonderfully different.

 

“I will release your arms, I want you to hold your little cheeks open for me. I am going to make love to you, my sweet boy, and you will cum when I tell you to.”

 

There was no danger of me not following that instruction. I was so hard, so excited, I was worried I would shoot as soon as Miss Susan penetrated me, but then the ice appeared again and, as I was lubricated from behind, the cold seemed to reach my core.

 

Once I was ready Miss Susan moved around the front and slid a large mirror underneath the horse. When that was done she carefully put a pair of my panties about six inches from the end of the glass.

 

“If you can reach your little knickers I will let you wrap my undies around your penis and make yourself cum for me.”

 

“Thank you, Mistress.” My voice was more of a plaintive cry than anything else. The thought of being given permission to do one of my favourite things was almost too much for me, and I had to will myself to ignore my own dick as I watched Miss Susan’s large cock in front of me and then I tentatively stuck my tongue out and licked at the phallus.

 

“Take it, take it all.” Miss Susan pushed into my mouth, slowly at first, but then with firmer strokes until I was gagging and the head was banging against my throat. I tried to remember things I had read or watched and began swallowing. I wasn’t as good as my Mistress, but I did manage to get almost two-thirds of it in my mouth before Miss Susan kindly removed it.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.”

 

She moved around behind me and I made sure that her path was unhindered as I held myself apart for her. The first feeling was a shock and I know I moved away from her. It seemed so big, so solid, but so was I.

 

“Push back.” I did as I was told and gradually, very slowly I was impaled on my love’s cock. Nothing could have prepared me for the feelings that flooded through me. I felt subservient, empowered, used and controlling. Each time Miss Susan thrust into me I fucked her back until she was so far in I could feel the heat from her body against my cheeks.

 

“You may let go now and I want you to pull on your nipple clamps … harder.” I managed to keep the chain up so that Miss Susan could see what I was doing. The pain was exquisite, mingling with those from my butt and almost causing me to go into sensory overload.

 

“Please, Miss Susan, may I touch my cock now, please?”

 

“You may hold it, but no movement.”

 

I did as I was told, but I so wanted to begin pumping, and in the end, after no more than thirty seconds, I could hold back no longer.

 

“Please, Mistress, please, I can’t … please let me move.”

 

“Good boy, you have done so well. You may cum, play with yourself and shoot your load as far as you can.”

 

“Yes, Miss Susan.” The words came out as a sob and I began to pump away, my hand becoming a blur in the mirror beneath me. I was crying out, the pressure building, my balls were churning, my cock, shiny, hot and so hard suddenly jerked in my fingers and the spunk shot out, it flew over the mirror, past my panties and landed on the floor just in front of them.

 

“Arghhh! Ohhh, God!” I was being held up by the horse, my legs no longer had any strength in them and then I felt Miss Susan speed up again.

 

“I’m … oh, Martin, I’m cumming, I am cumming and fucking your arse. Ohhhhhh, Ohhh, yes, YES!”

 

With her cock still deep in me Miss Susan collapsed across my back. She reached round and pulled off the nipple clamps and I cried out again, but far more weakly than usual. Then we just lay there, neither one of us wanting or being able to move.

 

Gradually though the world came back into focus and we both stirred. Miss Susan stood up, removed her harness and then crouched down to release me. Once that was done she turned me around and held me close as we kissed.

 

“Well, my sweet boy, I think we just consummated our marriage, what do you think?”

 

“Oh, yes, Miss Susan, and it was wonderful, thank you.”

 

“You are welcome, lets go in and run a nice hot bath and just relax for a while.”

 

I didn’t say anything, instead I nodded and took hold of her hand, her wedding ring glinting in the late afternoon sun as we opened the door and walked, naked, across our garden and into the beautiful lounge of our new home. As we closed the patio doors Miss Susan pressed gently on my shoulder and I dropped to my knees beside her. She placed a kiss on my head and I looked up in adoration. It wasn’t for everyone, this lifestyle we had chosen, but now, as the husband of the most wonderful woman in the world, I knew I had found my place in life, and no one can ask for more than that.

 

The End.