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The following is a collaborative effort between me and (our star) Becky, with a smattering of creative input from my insatiable coworker, Rachel. And yes, like all my stories that have cum before, the following account of an evening when Becky got exactly what she had asked for; is true. We hope you enjoy it.

Twilight had fallen when Becky turned into the driveway of the converted carriage house. Her palms were sweating, and her heart was pounding. There was still time to back out. She knew that. Intellectually speaking. In fact, if her sensible side could somehow manage to win out, that’s exactly what she would do. But too much was at stake, and had been from the moment she’d received the cryptic email offering to fulfill her little-shared fantasy. She screwed her courage, opened the car door and stepped out.

* * * * *

A gust of cold, December air caressed Becky’s stocking clad legs and crept under her very-short navy skirt and chilled her naked pussy. Another gust brought her thick nipples to full attention, causing them to press almost painfully against her white silk blouse. Before yet another gust could strike, she hurried across the cobblestones to the dimly lit front door. Her breasts bounced wildly, and her stiletto heels threw an extra shimmy to her walk. She stepped onto the porch and reached for the ancient, iron knocker. Unexpectedly, the door swung open.

“Rebecca Chase?”

The woman who answered looked to be around thirty. She was a little taller than Becky, with dark, piercing eyes, and long black hair.

“Yes. Mistress Deanna?” Becky replied.

Deanna smiled, and raised an eyebrow. “Open your blouse.” she said.


“Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Deanna’s tone was soft and soothing, yet threatening. Not wishing to anger, Becky hurriedly undid the buttons and allowed her more-than-ample breasts to tumble free.

“Now remove it.”

As if her free will had suddenly been taken from her, Becky did as instructed. She then stood perfectly still, naked from the waist up, as Mistress Deanna gave her a visual inspection.

“Turn around.”

The cold, wintery air stung Becky’s breasts and thick middle. Slowly, she turned, until she was facing the street. “Stop!” Deanna commanded.

A minute. Two. Three, passed. Becky shivered in the icy cold air.

Another minute. Two. A car drove slowly down the street. Becky’s heart pounded with fear.

“You may put your blouse back on, little one.” Deanna said, “Then cum inside.”

Becky watched the taillights disappear around the corner, then slowly put her blouse back on and fastened the buttons. Her fingers (and other parts) were freezing. A sense of embarrassment/ disbelief washed over her. Had she actually, without question, taken her blouse off at the behest of a total stranger? While standing outside? In the wintertime? Where anyone could see?

“Hurry up, little one!”

Another gust of cold air snuck under Becky’s skirt and cooled her extremely hot pussy. She quickly tucked in her blouse, and turned. Deanna was nowhere in sight.

“Mistress?” she said almost at a whisper.

“Don’t keep me waiting, little one.”

Becky stepped inside and closed the heavy oak door behind her. The sound of a crackling fire caught her attention.

“In here little one.”

Becky turned to her left and entered the dimly lit room. At the far end, Deanna stood near the fireplace warming her hands. For the first time, Becky was able to study her Mistress. As noted earlier, she was a little taller than Becky, with dark, piercing eyes, and long black hair. Moving on, her breasts appeared to be somewhat smallish. A deception, perhaps, as the white man’s shirt she wore did little to emphasize them. Her waist and hips were trim, and set off nicely by her short, though not too short, black, leather skirt. Her legs were long, and accentuated by her navy pumps.

“Little one.” Deanna began, “Your mere presence here tells me you are accepting of the terms I set down. Your eagerness to flaunt your boobies as you did tells me the straight-laced persona you present is a lie.”

“Mistress, I was not eager to flaunt my . . . boobies. I . . .”

“Silence little one! I did not ask you to speak!”

“I’m sorry Mistress, but I . . .”

“Take off your skirt! Masturbate for me!”

Becky panicked, stunned by the command.

“Do it! Now! Do it, or get in your car and leave! You told anyone who would listen that you wanted to see what it would be like to submit to the whims of another woman for a time, so do it!”

Becky slowly reached for the zipper and began to ease it down.

“A true slave would never speak without permission,” Deanna lectured, “nor would she attempt to contradict her mistress for fear of the punishment to cum. Since tonight is but a game you wanted to play, I will not exact what you would otherwise have coming; but if you fail to ‘follow the rules’ one more time, the game is over. Understand; little one?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good. Now take off your skirt and masturbate for me! But just before you’re ready to cum, stop!”

Becky bahis firmaları quickly finished removing her skirt, then used her tongue to liberally coat the fingers of her right hand. She closed her eyes tightly, and with her left hand, began rubbing her breasts through the silk of her blouse. As she did, she could feel Deanna’s scrutinizing stare. Not wishing to disappoint, she dipped her lubricated fingers inside her aching dryness and began to stroke, and pleasure herself.

“Faster!” Deanna commanded, “Frig that clit of yours! Make it beg for mercy!”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Faster! Faster!”

“Yes . . . yes Mistress.”

Obediently, Becky set a very frantic pace. To her surprise, it wasn’t long before she could feel her climax nearing. Her throaty moans gave her away. “Are you nearing the edge, little one?”

“Yes Mistress. I am.”

“Then stop!”

As if an invisible pair of powerful hands yanked hers away, Becky abruptly removed her pleasure-giving touch. Slowly, she forced her eyes open.

“Very good little one. Now cum here.”

Her head swimming, Becky stepped out of her skirt and walked over to Deanna. She stood as demurely as she could with her legs together. Deanna reached down and caressed Becky’s nicely-shaved pubes. The touch gave Becky a start. “Widen your stance. I want to see how wet you are in there.”

A moment’s hesitation by Becky. “Little one?” Becky’s face, then shoulders, breasts and so forth flushed with embarrassment. She looked away, then shifted her weight from side to side until her feet were about eighteen inches apart. Deanna’s touch entered and explored, then departed.

Becky continued to look away.

The exaggerated sound of Deanna licking the sweet taste from her fingers caught Becky’s attention. She wanted to focus on her Mistress and relish the sight, but couldn’t find the courage to do so.

“Unbutton your blouse.” Deanna whispered.

Without hesitation, Becky did as instructed. When the last button came undone, Deanna’s feminine touch drifted over Becky’s breasts, exposing them fully, and sending their silk cover to the floor. Deanna smiled, then moved to the near corner of the room and pulled a satin bed sheet from a cheval mirror.

“Cum here, little one.”

Naked, save her stockings and heels, Becky walked over to her Mistress and stood in front of the mirror.

“Tell me what you see.” Deanna said softly.

Becky stared at her nude self: unsure how to reply. She thought for a long while, then decided to convey her true feelings about herself. “Mistress,” she began, “I see a woman that is nearing fifty-five years of age. She is five foot six inches tall. Her hair is blonde. Curly. Much longer than she would like, but not as long as her lover wants. Her weight . . . is one hundred eighty-five pounds.”

“Go on.”

“Her; boobies; are rather large, and only droop a little. Her areolas are a nice shade of pale pink, somewhat over-sized, and her nipples . . .” Becky stared at her very stiff buds, “. . . are obscenely long and thick.”

“Do you know what I see?” Deanna asked.

“No Mistress.”

“I see a woman whose body is mine to command. A woman whose need for orgasm is great. A woman, who will do anything I ask to achieve it. Do you agree?”

“Yes Mistress.”

Deanna left Becky to contemplate the reflection before her, walked over to an overstuffed chair that was near the fire and sat down,. “I understand that the first time you had anal sex, a woman gave you the enemas to; get you ready. Is that true?” Deanna said.

“Yes Mistress, it is.”

“I also understand that she was very gentle about it.”

“Yes Mistress, she was.”

“Cum over here and kneel on the coffee table.”

Sensing what was about to happen, Becky slowly walked over and complied. “Now lean forward until your left cheek is resting on the table.”

Becky drew a deep breath, then got into position.

“Very good, little one.”

Deanna got up from her chair and left the room. A moment later she returned. “How many syringes did she have you take?”

“Two, Mistress. One mineral-oil, and one saline.”

“Tonight, you will take three of the former, and as before, one of the later. Are you ready?”

“Mistress, I . . .”

“Yes little one?”

“Mistress? You will be gentle?”

“No little one. I will not.”

Deanna opened a tube of k-y warming gel and coated Becky’s tight, little butt-hole. She then removed the orange cap from the first syringe and eased the tip inside Becky’s rectum. With steady pressure, she sent every last drop of mineral-oil deep into Becky’s inner reaches. “Ready for the next one?”


“Yes little one?”

“The next one? But I haven’t . . .”

“Expelled the first? Of course not! The idea is to stretch your limits; not coddle you.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Deanna, removed the tip from the second, and administered it. The third followed in short order.

“Comfortable, little one?”

“No Mistress. It hurts. The pressure is . . .” her voice trailed off.

“Oh, little one, kaçak iddaa I’m so sorry to hear that.” Deanna said mockingly, as she lightly stroked Becky’s exposed pussy.

“Mistress? How long am I expected to hold it?” Becky asked.

“As long as it pleases me.”

The first tormenting cramp wracked Becky’s bowels and caused her to whimper in pain.

“Little one.” Deanna scolded, “You disappoint me! Such a shameful attempt to play my sympathies! It will cost you! But not just yet.”

Deanna returned to her chair and sat down. Another tormenting cramp elicited another whimper of pain. “Please, Mistress. May I relieve myself? It hurts! Please?!”

“Little one, little one. You may not! What you may do, is masturbate until you cum. Then, and only then you may relieve yourself.”

Becky fought through another tormenting cramp, then began to masturbate at the same, furious rate as before. Her fingers thrust rapidly in and out of her pussy. She pinched, rolled and stroked her clit.

Another cramp to fight through.

More rapid-fire finger thrusts. It was maddening! Every single time she neared the edge, another torturous cramp would deny her.

“Please Mistress. I . . . I can’t make myself cum! Please?!”

“Little one, you’re simply not trying.”

“Yes Mistress, I am. Please?”

“Keep going. Until you cum.”

Becky picked up her pace even more. Her frustration grew and grew. The more she tried to focus on the sensations swirling in her pussy, the more elusive they became.

“Please Mistress. Please?!”

“Little one, little one . . .”

Deanna paused, then laughed to herself as a plan to exploit Becky’s need came to mind.

“If; and I do mean IF, I grant you permission, what will you offer in return?”

“Anything!” Becky almost screamed, fighting through another cramp.

“Anything, little one?”

“Yes Mistress. Anything!”

Deanna smiled a wicked smile. “Masturbate some more.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Becky’s voice was filled with desperation. Tears of vexation streamed down her face. Her fingers trembled as she stroked, pinched, rubbed, rolled her clit. Even more so as she diverted them to her inner walls for a fast-paced finger-fuck.

“Please Mistress. I . . . I can’t cum!”

“Little one. You’re simply not trying hard enough.”

“But I am! I . . . I just can’t do it.”

The urge to relieve was overwhelming Becky’s senses. So much so that she could think of little else. “Please Mistress!”

“If I grant permission you will do anything I ask?” Deanna confirmed.

“Yes Mistress! Anything!”

“Very well then. Permission granted.”

Becky scrambled from the table. Deanna slowly rose from her chair, then ushered Becky down the hall to the bathroom. “Thank you Mistress. Thank you!” Deanna pulled the door partly closed, and waited. When Becky was finished, Deanna lead her back to the living room and had her assume the same position.

“Ready, little one?”

“Yes Mistress.” she said, her tone conveying her willingness to please. Deanna smiled, then removed the cap from the saline syringe and inserted the tip deep inside Becky’s rectum. One, forceful squeeze sent the liquid deep inside. “Stand up, little one.”

Becky did as instructed.

“Have you ever worn weighted nipple clamps, little one?”

“No Mistress, I haven’t. Only the regular kind.”

“Well, you are about to.”

Deanna opened a small white box that had been laying next to her chair and took out the clamps: devilish contrivances, linked together by a fine silver chain, with an innocent-looking pendant centered between, and dangling. Carefully, she squeezed open the padded jaws of the first and put it in place around Becky’s right. A few turns of the setscrew applied the desired pressure.

“Too tight, little one?”

“No Mistress.”

The process repeated, entrapping Becky’s left. Playfully, Deanna poked Becky’s breasts, causing them to sway slightly, setting the little six-ounce pendulum in motion. The sensation was like none Becky had experienced before. The seemingly random pulls on her nipples was . . . erotic.

“How about a clit clip, little one?”

“No Mistress. Never.”

Deanna picked up the box once more and took out a silver waist chain with clit-clip attached, and draped it around Becky’s hips. She squatted so that she was eye-level with Becky’s pussy.

“Hold your labia open for me.”

Awash in embarrassment/ humiliation/ excitement, Becky reached down and held herself open, as Deanna skillfully positioned the clip in place. “Go look in the mirror, little one.”

Becky did as instructed. As she walked – her butt cheeks clenched – the pendulum baited her nipples with every step. “Do you like what you see, little one?”

“Yes Mistress, I do.”

“Would you be willing to wear your new jewelry on a regular basis, little one?”

Becky stared at her reflection. “Well, little one?”

“Yes Mistress; I would.”

“On a daily basis?”

“I . . . I . . .” Becky’s voice quivered, “No Mistress. I wouldn’t.”

Deanna stepped behind Becky, kaçak bahis reached around and cupped Becky’s breasts, moving them side to side, causing the weight to move in small circles. “Why not?” she asked, with unmistakable amusement in her voice, “Are you afraid someone might discover your dark desires?”

Becky stared at the reflection of her swaying breasts: at the female touch guiding them ever so gently. “Yes Mistress.” she said softly.

Deanna laughed, then raked her beautifully manicured fingernails across Becky’s breasts. For no particular reason, she delivered a stinging slap to Becky’s well-filled rump. “Now return to the table and resume the position.”

Confusion filled Becky’s mind. The times she had relinquished her free will in favor of Sam’s insatiable desires had not prepared her for this. Though she knew in her heart she could refuse any command without fear of retribution, her incredible desire to explore this forbidden side of her sexuality was stronger than she could have ever imagined.

“. . . left cheek against the table, little one.”

Deanna sat down in the overstuffed chair, seductively crossed, then re-crossed her legs, helping her skirt to ride up, exposing the tops of her stockings. “Tell me a story little one. About the first time you gave your current lover a blow job.”

“Sam and I had been dating a short time.” Becky began, “We were . . .”

A demanding cramp wracked her bowels.

“We were in his bedroom. About to make love. He had just coated my pussy with k-y jelly. His touch was so gentle. I wanted him inside me so badly . . . ”

Another cramp.

“Please Mistress. I . . .”

“Continue the story.”

“I rested my head on his thigh and began playing with his cock. It was bigger than any I had ever seen. Bigger than the only cock I had ever seen . . . I opened my mouth and lowered myself down as slowly as I could, trying not to gag. It took a while, but I eventually managed . . .”

Another cramp.

“Please Mistress!”

“The story?”

“Once I got used to his size, I started bobbing up and down. Before long, I could feel his cock begin to spasm.”

“Did you swallow his cum?”

“Yes Mistress. I did.”

Another wracking cramp. “Please Mistress. Please!”

Deanna re-crossed her legs once again and stared intently into Becky’s pleading eyes. “Very well, little one. Although your telling was . . . lacking, you have my permission.”

Becky scrambled from the table and almost ran to the bathroom; her high heels making a rhythmic sound on the hardwood floors. When she returned, Deanna was waiting with a ping pong paddle in hand. “Little one? Do you recall my saying that your shameful attempt to play my sympathies by whimpering as you did would cost you?”

“Yes Mistress, I recall.”

“Stand in front of the mirror with your feet shoulder width apart.”

Without hesitation, Becky did as her Mistress bade.

“Now lace your fingers and put your hands behind your head.”

Once more she complied. Deanna moved behind, reached around, and lightly raked Becky’s breasts. “In a moment, I will deliver five licks to each of your butt cheeks, little one. For every sound you make, I will add another lick. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mistress.”

Deanna stepped back and delivered the first stinging blow to Becky’s right cheek. The “smack” resounded. Becky raised on her toes, but somehow managed to quell her desire to cry out.

“Smack! Smack!”

The next two swats came in rapid succession. Each lifted Becky onto her toes. Each sent the torturous pendulum swinging. Tears of pain stained Becky’s cheeks, but clenched teeth held back all sounds of distress.



“Very good little one! You took that well! Are you ready for the rest?”

Becky drew a long, deep breath. “Yes Mistress.”

“Smack! Smack!”

The first two swats to her unsuspecting left came in rapid succession, and caught Becky completely off guard. She yelped as each was delivered.

“Little one. Were those cries of pain I heard?”

“Yes Mistress.” Becky said at a whisper.



The next to swats, like the rest, lifted Becky onto her toes and sent the pendulum swaying in wide circles.


Somehow, Becky managed to stifle her desire to cry out.

“Now bend over, little one.”

Slowly, Becky did as instructed, and Deanna delivered the last two blows squarely on her unprotected butt hole. They stung unmercifully, setting Becky’s entire rear on fire. She had not felt so vulnerable in, she couldn’t remember how long. For the first time that evening, she feared what might cum next.

“You may straighten, little one. Then, if you wish, admire the lovely shades of red I imparted.”

Becky straightened, then twisted to gain a view of her savaged backside. As the warmth told her, both cheeks were a brilliant shade of red. Almost fearfully, she reached back and touched the hot flesh.

“Cum with me, little one.”

Like a curious child, Becky reached back for another, tentative touch. “Little one?” She snapped back to the moment, and quickly followed Deanna into a spacious bedroom that showcased a large canopy bed. At the foot: a blanket chest, with a large dildo (and equally large butt plug) laying upon it.

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