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From: Clevernick <passportcollectors@gmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: From Zealot to Harlot Chap 3 & 4
Date: Mon, 20 Aug 2007 22:47:12 -0000
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===================
Chapter 3 - A Model Slave
I lifted her down off the sink, and placed her feet once more on the
floor. Her wrists went down with her legs, and she was bent over once
more, her ass up toward my hand. I dried her wet behind and legs
with a dishtowel, gently, proprietarily.
I slipped my finger back inside her still-wet quim, just because I
could, and said, "Walk with me." I took my equipment and walked her
into the living room, with her ass still in the air, her legs swinging
as she walked. I was sure she'd never forget doing the baby elephant
walk in such a humiliating way. "Good little elephant," I teased.
"Right this way."
There was a 1960's ugly sofa-bed there of a nondescript brick color
and indeterminate age. I extracted my hand, seated her on the couch.
While she sat there, bent over, I took a sturdy 50-pound wall eye, and
screwed it with pliers into a stud behind the couch, height flush with
the couch's top. Then I put a collar around her neck, with a D-ring
at the back. I locked the collar on with a small padlock.
Then I changed her cuffs over. I linked her hands to each other,
removed one of the wrist-to-ankle cuffs, and used it instead to cuff
that ankle to one foot of the couch. I removed the other wrist-to-
ankle cuff and cuffed that leg to another foot of the couch, a meter
away. A length of chain and two sturdy little padlocks locked her
collar to the wall eye, with only a few inches' slack.
She was now sitting in the couch, legs spread far apart, head up and
straight, but unable to move her neck or legs very much. I removed
her handcuffs and her arms were free.
"Stay there," I joked, and went back up to my bedroom, and to hers. I
brought down her makeup kit, a good SLR camera, a tripod, and two good
umbrella lights. She freaked out, seeing these, and I let her. She
waved her arms, tried in vain to remove the gag, shouted through her
nose, reached behind her to remove the locked collar. But she
couldn't really do a thing.
Her neck was firmly attached to the wall, and the sofa bed weighed a
ton. She couldn't lift it while sitting on it; I doubted anyone could.
I just waited for the storm to die down.
"This is your test of obedience," I continued. "You will be my model
as well as my slave, and you will be good at it." I tested the
lighting, arranged the umbrellas to get a good shot, and took a few
test snaps. She covered her face and breasts and stared at me
sullenly, and I knew she'd refuse to cooperate.
I looked her in the eyes. "Remember what happened the first time you
broke one of our agreements?" She stared, then lowered her eyes. I
persisted, in a stronger voice. "And the time after that?" She nodded
meekly. "Then can I trust you, for once, to stick to one this time?
So you can get out in the promised 45 minutes and go to work?" Again
a meek nod, and she dropped her hands to her sides, eyes low.
"Very good. Now I'd like to try to trust you with some more freedom,
so don't disappoint me. You need to get used to holding your own
tongue. I'm going to take the gag out. If you speak or scream, I
have a much bigger gag for you that will really stretch your jaw,
understand?" She nodded vigorously.
"If I remove your gag, can you be silent?" She nodded again, not
pleased but impatient.
I removed the ball gag, and she coughed and dry-retched a bit. I gave
her a glass of water and she drank it herself, hands and mouth both
free. Her legs were still forced wide, cuffed to the couch legs.
When she had recovered, I handed her the makeup kit and mirror. "Fix
your face up. Lots of dark eyeliner, please." I waited while she
did.
"More lipstick, darker in color, make your lips a bit fuller. Even
more eyeliner. Blue shadow. Good." I asked for the makeup kit back,
put it away. Now she was ready, and looking quite sexy.
"Which hand do you normally masturbate with?" I casually asked. She
started to protest, remembered the big gag, and sat very still.
"Interesting -- you do know the difference between public and private
information. Have you added religion to the private list yet?" She
nodded, sadly.
I didn't let on, but the sad face combined with the hot slut makeup
and naked spread body had me nearly coming on the spot.
"Good. But you've agreed to be my slave for this morning, and I say
that your private information is mine now. All of it. What hand do
you masturbate with? Don't say anything; just put that hand between
your legs." She crossed her arms and glared, and I looked at her,
amused.
"That was a direct order," I casually mentioned, "I guess you want to
see how this can get worse?" She instantly placed her left hand
between her legs. "Good. Notice how much better you feel when you're
shaved? Touch and see." She had been curious herself.
She touched herself, stroked the softer skin between her legs that was
now bare and sensitive, spread and exposed. She forgot I was there
for a moment, stroking gently, until I snapped a photo, and she looked
up angrily.
"I can see you enjoy that," I smiled, "But I know you're already wet,
so insert two fingers, good, further in, and now tilt your wrist down,
and hips up. I want to see the letter "S" in your pubes, and a bit
more pussy." Flushing with embarrassment at the direct talk, she
posed her hand and body for the camera.
She was still wet, and it was obvious she would like to have her
fingers in there, if only nobody were watching and taking pictures. I
took two shots while she was working on it, looking at her own crotch,
pretending not to play with her clit, then I waited for her to look
up.
"Now keep looking at me, and gently bite your upper lip. Chin down,
eyes up, look sultry. Other hand on your opposite breast." She
followed the instructions surprisingly well, and I finally got my
first proper porn photo. This one was good. The collar on her neck
was suggestive, the chain was hidden behind it, the wall eye likewise
invisible. The cuffs on her feet were out of the frame. It was a
lovely cam-girl porn shot, with no visible restraints. The flushed
face and chest didn't look bad at all. I took a few more like it.
"I like these shots; you look like a lovely girl who's just sat down
at home to think of her boyfriend, instead of going in to work. Now
rub your clit, work your fingers in and out, and really try to get
turned on for me. Play with yourself in earnest."
Yet another intimate detail about herself she had to show me now, and
a very humiliating one, but then that seemed to make her wet, too.
She hesitated, looked up at me, pleading, as her fingers began to drip
with her own juices.
"Be a good little slut and hump your hand for me, my little cover
girl."
She whimpered and screwed up her face, almost crying with
humiliation, but couldn't, or wouldn't, resist any further. "Play
with yourself for the camera. C'mon, fuck your hand! More clit
action!" I encouraged her aloud, watched her stroke her clit and rub
her pussy, but didn't notice for a while that my other hand was down
inside my pants.
I took several good shots, encouraging her aloud to increase her
embarrassment. "That's right, stroke that clit! Slide your finger
around it! Tug those little lips!" I made her keep it up for 10
minutes or so until she came, naked and sweating, flushing and bucking
against the couch. And got it all on film.
"Now, I need hardly mention that these shots should not be mailed to
your parents and minister, right?" She looked up, shocked. Click.
Another good one. She'd just realized why I had asked for her home
address.
"Well, don't worry, as long as you do everything I say for the next
four weeks, I promise that they won't. And now I can really trust
you, right?" She nodded, defeated utterly. I took the cuffs off her
ankles, leaving her tethered only to the wall by the neck. Her legs
drifted slowly closed and I took my own shoes, socks and pants off,
gently stroking and enjoying myself.
* * *
I fetched her work clothes from the kitchen, and handed her white
blouse to her. "Put this on, no buttons yet." She slid it behind her
and got both arms into the sleeves, pulled the front closed. "Put
your hand inside, play with that nipple," I said. "Push the blouse a
bit, let me see the nipple." She looked up and glared, but obeyed.
"Don't forget to smile, other hand back inside your pussy, pretend
you're about to come again." She stopped glaring, let her mouth open
slightly, bit her lip, and I took some pictures, moving her neck as
necessary to keep the chain and eye hidden.
"Now put your skirt on," I continued, handing it to her. She slipped
it up over her knees, onto her waist, and zipped up. "Good," I say,
"now bunch it up, and put that hand back up underneath it, and keep on
strumming that pussy. Massage both boobs too." This time she looked
much naughtier than naked, and her growing reluctance showed that she
knew it, (Click), but something was missing. While she rubbed and
grunted, I slid her pink panties back on, but left them around her
ankles. Perfect. Click.
"Pull your panties up. Bunch up the skirt more, slide the crotch to
one side, and keep strumming," I continued. I came over to her and
did up the top blouse button. Click. Then the bottom two. Click.
"Put the panties back where they belong, and rub your clit through
them. Don't worry, they're already pretty wet." Click.
By now she was nearly fully dressed, and looked like she'd just sat
down and undone a couple of blouse buttons and shoved her hand up her
skirt. I had a lovely set of photos, which when reversed, would look
like a striptease masturbation masterpiece. The wide-eyed naked shock
photo, immediately post-orgasm, would make an excellent finale. I let
her button her blouse and put her shoes and jacket on, to complete the
set. This finished off the roll.
I told her to imagine how all this would look in reverse, as I took
the jacket and shoes back. She flushed right down to her chest,
gritted her teeth.
After the hot photos, I wanted her again. And I knew just how. "Good,
now unbutton the blouse, let it hang open. Slide the panties back
off."
She didn't like to pull her own panties off in front of me, but
managed. "Good, obedient slave," I taunted. "You're starting to
understand what your clothes are good for." She surprised me with a
faint smile as I put her soaked panties into my breast pocket.
"I will flip up your skirt now, and fuck your little virgin ass.
What do you think of that?" Her smile disappeared, and she nearly
shouted. She clamped her lips shut and shook her head, moaning
emphatically.
"Now, that's not how a proper sex slave behaves, is it?" I asked
sternly. She continued to shake her head.
"You know I could just threaten you now, and you'd do it anyway,
right?" She stopped, looked resigned, nodded faintly.
That wasn't enough for me. "But that wouldn't be right," I
continued. "You're a sex slave with a contract, and a genuine desire
to please your master. You should be begging me to use you any way I
can. So you will be begging me to fuck your ass before I do it.
Otherwise, it won't happen. Is that fairer?" She said nothing, looked
skeptical.
"Now put your hands on the couch. Good, and your knees too." It was
a bit awkward changing to an all-fours position with her neck held so
close to the wall, but natural once she managed it. She was wearing
only her unbuttoned blouse and good skirt. She would know she was
mine even when dressed up for work.
I flipped the skirt up all the way to her breasts, and pressed it up a
bit so it wouldn't fall back on its own, and began to play with her
now worn and tender pussy. But I was gentle, and the humiliation
seemed to have kept her moist.
I stood behind her, put one knee up on the couch, dipped my left index
finger in her wetness, and then circled her pulsing asshole with the
wet finger. She moaned, surprised and panicked at first, relaxed a
little but didn't want to admit to enjoying it a bit.
I took some vaseline on the left hand and continued to circle her ass,
while playing gently with her inner lips with my right hand. When her
ass was more relaxed, I put the vaselined finger up inside it, and
gently penetrated her vagina with the right hand at the same time,
filling her up.
She protested weakly, but as I played with her already-stimulated clit
shaft, her protests slowly turned into happy moans. My two hands could
feel each other in there, through the thin dividing tissue. I
continued working her sphincter until it felt more relaxed, as she
whimpered at the new sensation.
I used one thumb to keep her clit stimulated as I continued working
her ass and pussy together, gradually with more and more energy,
eventually bringing her close, then tantalizingly close, to what
promised to be a dramatic finish. Then I took my right hand out of
her pussy and watched as she moaned in disappointment.
She whined, and I stroked her lips gently, kept my left index finger
still in her ass, keeping her aroused but no further. She pressed her
pussy up against me. "Do you want to come now?"
"MMM-mmm", she moaned and nodded.
I stroked her a little more vigorously, asked again. She growled in
her throat with need and impatience, tried to hump my hand, pressed
her ass back against my finger.
"You may speak now, if you wish to beg me to fuck your ass."
"Okay, Simon, do it." she said thickly.
"That's not begging, and it's not proper slave attitude either," I
said, backing off, rubbing her swollen clit gently, tantalizingly.
"You'll have to do much better than that."
She was close again, needing to finish, and I wouldn't let her. She
tried to clamp her legs together and I pulled them apart. I continued
sliding my finger in her ass, now up past the second knuckle. I played
with her unmercifully, until her breathing was strained and her body
flushed.
"Try begging again," I urged.
"Yes!" Liz said hoarsely, pressing her ass up against my hand,
pressing her clit harder against my teasing thumb. "Use my ass! I
beg you to fuck my ass, Simon!"
I was excited but hid that, gently playing with her needy clit now.
She was well past her time and was desperate to finish, and I was
carefully slowing down when she got close. "I don't know if I want to,
slave. And I haven't given you permission to use my name. Bad
slave."
She was panting, needing to come. She strained to think of what to
say.
"Oh, please, Sir - please forgive this unworthy slave and - and use my
ass. I promise it will be yours - whenever you wish - if you'll just
fuck me now - in the ass and make me a happy slave."
Wow. "Sir." And unsolicited promises. This was better, much better
than I'd expected.
"Good slut. I will help you. You'll need a gag," I said.
I took my right hand from her pussy and took her soaked panties from
my breast pocket, told her to open her mouth. She widened her eyes as
she understood what I wanted, hesitated, then, still desperate to
climax, let me stuff the panties in. I went back to stroking her
inner lips and clit, and told her that this time she would have to
hold the panties in her mouth herself, without a strap.
"If they fall out for any reason, there are more ice cubes in the
freezer for you." I waggled my finger in her ass.
She shuddered and though they must have tasted awful to her, I knew
those panties would stay in her mouth.
Then I again brought her very close to her climax. She remained on her
hands and knees, waiting for me doggy-style. By then I was sporting a
solid-mahogany erection.
I quickly slathered it with vaseline, and guided it into her ass from
behind, pressing hard as her ass pushed back, then seemed to suck me
in. I felt my dick's progress with my right hand in her vagina. She
cried out, but bit down on the panty gag.
I could slide in only an inch, but it was enough for now. Gently,
adding lubrication, I worked deeper into her, using my foot on the
floor for extra leverage. Her body shook as she moaned with pain and
pleasure.
As I fucked her ass I could feel the ridge of my cock sliding back and
forth, through her, with my right hand's fingers still inside her wet
core, my thumb rubbing her clit gently and fast.
I moved in her gently for some time, penetrating deeper when I could,
as her ass appeared to alternately push me back and then pull me
inward. She was tight around me, very tight for my thicker-than-usual
cock, and I could barely hold back my own climax, despite having come
not long before. Her breaths shortened, and she whimpered.
She cried out as she came, and after a pause, shuddered and came
again, and this set me off -waves of juice came from me and filled her
virgin ass. She slumped against the back of the couch, face near her
neck tether. Liz was entirely mine, and she knew it. Jesus hadn't
stood a chance.
I pulled out of her and she moaned. I went into the kitchen and
cleaned myself up, put my pants and shoes back on, and returned to
find her still slumped on the couch, her ass facing me, skirt still
flipped up, uncaring. I told her she could spit out the panties now,
and she pushed them into my hand with her tongue.
I turned her around to sit on the couch and put the panties over her
toes, back up on her legs. I fetched her pantyhose and put those on
her too, pulling them both up properly. She was as compliant as a
doll by now.
I decided to forget the bra. I sat her back up normally, did up her
blouse, added the jacket on top, and removed the neck chain and her
leather collar, leaving her dressed for work. Her makeup was more
than a bit heavy, she was braless and her panties were soaked and
dirty, but she was ready to roll. She had even had her pee.
"Off you go now. See you tonight, slave." She nodded submissively
and tried to go up the stairs to the bathroom. "Stop," I said. "You've
already cleaned yourself up as much as you have time for. Now get off
to work before you get fired."
She considered ignoring the order, decided not to. She turned around,
looked for her purse. I handed it to her, and she left the house, in
a hurry, glancing back once to meet my eye.
It was a minute's work to put away the camera and lights, and remove
the screw in the wall. I fetched my keys, pocketed the roll of film,
and headed out. This would be a good month--I could feel it now.
Chapter 4 - Panty Patrol
The five of us in the house took turns to make dinners and to wash
dishes, and tonight was Liz's turn to make dinner. When I came home
after work, she had apparently taken off her makeup, and changed into
more comfortable clothes -- jeans and sweatshirt, the usual student
uniform at the time. She seemed to be wearing a bra, too, and I
wondered to myself how she'd ever get it all off in 5 seconds, later
this evening, as she'd agreed.
She was preoccupied and didn't want to look at me, which I supposed
made sense. Since she wasn't permitted to speak to me, it could get
awkward to interact a lot in front of the others. Plus of course, she
had just been humiliated all morning and probably most of the day at
work, too, with slutty-looking makeup, her bra missing, and feeling
her soaked panties beneath her, with the taste of them still in her
mouth. She probably didn't feel all that comfortable around me now.
I expected that while changing, she'd finally had a chance to inspect
her new "Superman" pubic hairstyle, too. I liked that she'd know she
was owned.
I let her make her spaghetti, and decided to hang out in the dining
room chatting with Richard and Betty, as they came in hungry. Chuck
was late as usual, but he'd probably make it by the time dinner
started.
I didn't have much to say to Richard or Betty actually. Betty was
nearly as religious a Mennonite as her roommate Liz was a Baptist,
though she didn't feel as great a need to talk about it. She didn't
seem to have much else to talk about either though.
Richard mostly kept to himself. Even Chuck, who shared a room with
him, said Richard was hard to get to know.
Chuck was more my speed, a polymath with interests in language,
literature, and amateur psychology. But he wasn't there yet. So I
gave up on Richard and Betty, and stayed quiet, thinking about what
I'd do tonight with Liz. As an interesting side problem, I wondered
if there was some way I could use Liz to brighten up these boring
dinnertimes, too.
Dinner time (and Chuck) finally arrived, just as I was getting some
wicked ideas, which I stored away for later on. The spaghetti was
overcooked and the sauce sour and watery, but I didn't expect much
from Liz's cooking. On the good side, though, she did bring the
plates to the table herself, serving everyone carefully, me first.
But she didn't look me in the eye.
She was remarkably quiet at dinnertime. Instead of dominating the
conversation with her smug assertions and manufactured arguments about
her religion and her family, she waited for others to speak, and
replied politely and non-religiously, glancing occasionally at me when
she didn't think I'd be looking. I grinned a big friendly ape grin
and looked right back at her.
After a few of these grins, she got quiet and looked down at her
plate, leaving me and Chuck to make conversation. Chuck was studying
Chinese in his spare time, and was willing to pass on some tips on how
to read the stuff on Chinese menus, so that kept us both occupied.
I helped him with the dishes after dinner, which always meant hours of
conversation, since he was the world's slowest dishwasher. I didn't
mind; he was good to talk to.
I would have loved to let him know about my work with Liz this morning
-- he hated her even more than I did -- but it didn't seem the type of
thing to talk about, and I wanted to keep things quiet for now. I
didn't know how he'd react, and I was afraid of buggering things up.
I noticed that Liz was hanging out watching TV with Betty, and it was
already 10 by the time the dishes were done. At 10:30 I was expecting
(hoping) Liz would show up in my room and somehow get naked within 5
seconds. This would be interesting.
I still wasn't sure she'd even show up - she might have just agreed
this morning so she could get to work, and she knew I couldn't really
force her with everyone else around.
At 10 I went upstairs and made my bed, tidied up a bit, and on
inspiration, put on a "Superman" logo T-shirt, and came back
downstairs to watch TV. Liz saw me come in, did a double-take at the
T-shirt, then controlled it and went back to watching the tube. But
her face was pale, and she was chewing her lip, and she seemed
restless.
I went up to my room early, left the door open. Just before 10:30 she
ran up to her bedroom, and a few minutes later she walked into the
bathroom, flushed the toilet, and came over to my room.
Yes!
She was uncomfortable with the door open, and immediately closed it
behind her, and looked at me nervously, fidgeting.
She still seemed to be wearing her sweatshirt, but I noticed the jeans
had been replaced with sweatpants. Ugly, but that would help. She
pushed off her running shoes with her feet. I was curious about her
state of mind at this point, so I took on a dominant posture and
voice, and said "Lucky you're a bit early. You still have 5 seconds
left to be dressed appropriately."
She quickly pulled off her socks and sweatpants, then paused, looked
determined, and whipped off the sweatshirt. There was nothing
underneath it but her perky boobs. Five seconds were gone, and she
smiled at me uncertainly, seeking approval.
She was wearing only baby-blue panties with a little bow at the
front. Not what we'd agreed on. The appropriate dress was completely
naked. But there she was, posing and modeling panties for me.
Suddenly I realized two things. First, she had given up trying to
bail. She was going to cooperate with a smile, though I wasn't sure
I understood why. And second, I now knew how I could make those
boring dinners more exciting.
I hid my grin behind a scowl. "You've either broken your agreement
already," I intoned, "or you can't tell the difference between wearing
panties, and not wearing panties. No matter. Your punishment will
correct both of these problems. I will tell you about it later."
Her face fell. I didn't react, but took out a pair of handcuffs and
continued, "Hold out your left hand." She hesitated and I looked at
her sternly. Reluctantly, she came forward and gave me her left
hand. I snapped the cuff on her wrist, ran the other one down under
and between her legs, and without further explanation cuffed it to her
right hand, behind her.
She now held herself in both hands. There was just barely enough
slack for her to stand up straight, but only with the chain up inside
her crack a bit, so she was a little hunched over, grabbing her own
panties from front and back, but no longer able to remove them. Which
would be object lesson number one.
"But-" she began.
"Speaking too? You're really asking for lots of punishment for one
night. I'll have to spread it over a whole week now." She apologized
wordlessly, but I met it with a stony face.
"You will be on panty patrol for the next seven days. I will explain
after I am satisfied. Now get on your knees." She knelt with
difficulty, one knee at a time.
I removed my belt from my jeans, held it folded in one hand, and
explained, "Removing the belt was my contribution. Now you will use
only your mouth and teeth to remove my pants. Each time you slip or
miss an attempt, I'll slap your rump with this little belt."
I wouldn't normally use a belt on a bare bottom, but then hers wasn't
bare, was it? She looked despairing at first, but then gamely took
the corner of my jeans in her teeth and worked the buttonhole around
the button. It got halfway over, then slipped out of her mouth, and
she yelped as I slapped her behind with the folded belt. I realized
I'd hit the back of her right hand, which wasn't my objective.
I told her to keep her hand to one side, to avoid a repeat of this,
and she tried. On the second try she got the button loose, and then
applied herself to the zipper.
It took several attempts to lower it all the way, and she got a pretty
good spanking as she did, but she managed it. Then she had to figure
out how to pull the pants off my hips.
I knew this was very difficult, and had already figured out the one
way sure to work. She would have to open wide, grab my pants crotch
and the bottom of the zipper in her mouth, and hold on tight as she
pulled it all straight down.
She didn't know this, but by stopping her attempts to pull from the
hips, slapping her ass, and pointing where I expected her to go next,
I eventually got the idea across.
I felt warm moist breath on my crotch as she bit the thickest part of
the jeans, under the fly, and pulled down with her head. I helped her
out a smidgen, sliding my hand down behind my pants and lowering from
behind.
She may not have known. She repeated the process with my black cotton
briefs, which was scarier, but fun. My erection was already present
and accounted for.
And then before I could tell her what to do next, she started to lick,
suck, and bite me like I was her dearest boyfriend. Hmmm.
This felt great, but it wasn't the impression I wanted to give. I
should grab her ears and fuck her throat instead. I knew this, but
somehow I just couldn't bring myself to stop a good thing. I decided
to just pretend it was what I wanted.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that this strategy was
dangerous somehow. But c'mon, turning down a free blow? Naaaaw. Next
time.
Meanwhile, I enjoyed her ministrations until I shot a nice load into
her mouth, holding her head hard so she couldn't pull away. I
commanded her to swallow, and lick me clean.
She obviously wasn't used to that, and was humiliated by it, but she
was getting rather turned on herself (possibly because of where her
hands were, and where the chain was), and she did a pretty good job.
But next time, I told myself, it was a deep throat for sure.
But now I had a very aroused sex-slave on my hands, and needed to set
things straight. "Stand up," I told her, and took my pants off as I
watched as she brought herself standing, one knee at a time, hands
otherwise occupied.
"Spread your legs and show me what you're doing with your hands." She
blushed, turned sideways.
I swatted her behind with the belt, and she immediately turned back
to me, spread her legs as instructed. I inspected the action under her
waistline. I saw that her front hand, the left that she usually
frigged herself with, was already deep into the now mushy-wet blue
panties.
I turned her around to see that she was trying to pull on her lips
from behind as well, and that her fingers had already pulled aside the
panties' crotch from that side, though it was definitely in the way.
The chain was all tangled up in there too.
"Rub your boobs against my hands, while you finish yourself off," I
said, wondering if she could even manage it with the panties in the
way and soaking up all her juice. She smiled shyly; she still thought
of her body as her own. That would change.
She rubbed her nipples up against my palms, which was nice enough for
me, though not very satisfying for her, and moaned in frustration for
some time but couldn't come.
Again and again she tried, and she was getting tender from the chafing
of the chain and panties. She was able to rub her clit, but it was
too dry and tender. She could pull the panties aside or rub her clit
with her front hand, but not both. She rubbed her crotch against mine,
and looked up at me pleadingly. This time I would be strong.
"Nice try, panty girl, but I'm afraid you've blueballed yourself this
time. You'll have to finish yourself off later, perhaps in the
morning.
But tonight it was panties you wanted, panties you got. Never again,
right?" She mimed agreement and non-verbally promised it wouldn't
happen again.
"Good. It won't be a problem again for a week, since you'll be on
panty patrol." Here was my plan for livening up those boring dinners.
"Panty patrol means that for the next week, you won't be wearing
panties at all, ever. You will also avoid jeans, trousers, and
pantyhose. It's skirt time for the next week, including at the dinner
table.
"Loose sweatpants or extra-large shorts are allowed on weekends, with
no panties. You'll sleep bottomless, if you don't already. If you
must wear hose, use stay-ups, or cut the entire crotch out of your
pantyhose."
Liz looked grave, thinking of work, waiting for the other shoe to
drop.
"The patrol part is for me," I continued. "I will be checking every
day, maybe more than once, to make sure that bare pussy is feeling the
breeze. Wherever you may be, if I say "panty check" you'll stop what
you're doing, and quietly come stand or sit beside me.
"Of course, I won't say 'panty check' since that would make everyone
wonder. I'll pronounce it 'candyfloss'. But you'll know what I mean,
if I say that word. Right?" She nodded, perhaps imagining what
would come next.
"I will of course put my hand up your skirt, and plunge a finger or
two up inside you, checking that all is well. There may be others
about, so you will have to be discreet.
"It won't necessarily end there. You will remain where you are until
I decide I'm finished fingering you.
"If I want you to come, then you'll stay until you come, as many times
as I wish. Quietly. Nobody around is to notice. Understood?"
She nodded with a bit too much enthusiasm, and pulled aside the crotch
of her soaked panties, hoping I'd demonstrate right now and give her
the relief she craved.
"Not tonight. You're still being punished. But I'll tell you what
you can do instead. You can sleep here with me for a while. I'll
attend to you in the morning." And I picked her up and laid her
gently down in my bed, hands still chained back to front.
I covered her up, kissed her forehead, and lay down beside her. I
read a book for a while as she lay there quietly on her side, cooling
down, carefully not moving her hands. Then I turned out the light,
put my arm around her breasts, and went to sleep, satisfied.
At five in the morning something repeatedly nudged me awake. I felt
around, noticed there was a girl in my bed, and her hands were still
chained to her crotch. "Not yet!" I complained. She shook her head,
looked down at her crotch, then over at the door. "mmm-mm-MMM!" Oh
dear. Bladder time.
Well, I didn't want her peeing all over the waterbed, so I made
another little punishment out of it. I helped Liz out of the bed,
told her to stand still and wait a moment. I told her she would have
to take a little chance. She squeezed her legs together.
I removed the cuffs, told her to remove the panties and hand them to
me. She did, with some evident relief at finally being outside
them.
I then walked her to the door, and told her she'd have to get to the
bathroom and back naked, and hope that nobody else was up at this
hour. Then I opened the door but she shrank away from it. She looked
around for her clothes, but I had them near the door, and I made it
clear that she had no choice.
She was both reluctant and excited, so I stage-whispered, "Go!" She
ran to the bathroom, and I watched, but nobody else seemed to get up.
A few minutes later she barged quickly back into the room and shut the
door.
"Welcome to panty patrol," was my greeting, holding up her crumpled
panties. "You won't be needing these for another week."
Finally, she was naked in my room, and waiting for instructions, as
promised nearly 24 hours ago.
I looked down at the nice Superman "S" I'd shaved into her pubes the
day before, traced it lightly with my finger. Moved my fingers a
little lower, and as she squirmed against my hand I couldn't help but
notice that she was nearly dripping wet, still.
"Now I believe you were looking for a good fuck." She smiled faintly.
Fortunately, my solid morning erection was waving hello, so I had the
pleasure of using it for once. I didn't know what to do with her mushy
blue panties, so I handed them to her.
"Shouldn't have worn these." I said. "You know where they go." She
grimaced but shoved them in her mouth. I commanded her to lie on her
back, knees up. I pulled her ass just off the edge of the bed, lifted
it, and entered her soaking pussy roughly, hard. She whimpered a bit,
but it was with pleasure, and her breathing kept time with my
thrusts.
She wrapped her arms behind her knees as I held her ass off the bed's
edge with one hand, fucking her hard. As her moans got louder I
shushed her.
I dipped a finger into her wetness and used it to stroke her clit as I
pushed into her, deep enough to impact her cervix on each stroke. Her
mouth opened wide and she bucked, let her legs go as she came. I was
still hard and not quite there yet.
She looked ready for more, so I repeated the process with a
difference. I turned around to the toy drawer and took a tub of
Vaseline. Turning back, I pulled her legs up and rested her ankles on
my shoulders as I kneeled by the bed.
With one finger I lubricated her anus, outside and in, as she
whimpered. Then I pushed my straining erection into that tight
rosebud, while my other hand monitored with a couple fingers up inside
her pussy, thumb gently on her clit as she thrust it toward me. She
was just as tight as she had been yesterday morning.
I had to work gradually into her ass, just a few millimeters more with
each thrust. She closed her eyes and concentrated on relaxing. But
she was aroused to near insanity - she whimpered with my strokes, her
hands pounding the waterbed at her sides, biting down on her soaked
panties and tasting her own arousal, getting close to her own climax
already again.
I was no more than 4 inches into her squeezing ass when she came,
explosively this time, perhaps the result of waiting most of the night
for it. I, too, had been waiting, and her spasms did it. I shuddered
and filled her with semen, momentarily losing the ability to speak,
frightened by the unprecedented intensity myself.
I pulled out after a while, gently put her down on the bed, took the
panties out of her mouth, stroked her cheek comfortingly, and took a
quick bathroom break to clean up.