textfiles/sex/EROTICA/E/email.txt

Archive-name: Bondage/email.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: E-Mail

 
We had been corresponding for quite a while, always electronical-
ly, you and I.  Each of us had started out curious about this
"bondage" stuff; at first, it was just something we had seen
hinted at in the movies.  Then we had sought out more explicit
films, more detailed stories.  And our private lovemaking seemed
fresher, newer, more exciting.  So, independently, we had each
turned to this forum, to "flesh out" our fantasies, and see
others doing the same.
 
Being newcomers, neither of us had developed the cynicism that
comes with routine.  And so when I naively asked for a "pen pal,"
with whom to exchange ideas (and later, directives), you had
naively responded.  Oh sure, there was the initial trepidation,
the fear that somehow our colleagues would find us out, the worry
that our correspondence was being shared with the rest of the
world, but each of us stayed with it.  And before long, each of
us was hooked.  In fact, now we look upon those days and recog-
nize the heightened anxiety for what it was:  raw sexual arousal.
We were just too timid to admit it to ourselves at the time.
 
At first, we just shared the tidbits of little fantasies, embel-
lished personal descriptions, and the like.  You told me about
the night your then-lover blindfolded you for the first time, and
simply ordered you to lay still as he had his way with you.  How
you ached for the physical restraints that would have made your
bondage easier; and that sudden exquisite terror when the door
opened:  had he left?  Had someone else come in?  It was a mark
of strengths you had yet to discover that you laid there, motion-
less, while someone dripped something on you, cool enough to make
you jerk, but not enough to make you resist.  As he licked it off
your breasts, your firm tummy, and finally from your dripping
pussy you smelled the chocolate.  And you recognized his beard.
But he didn't know the thrill you felt from imagining my presence
there.
 
Then I told you about the time I took my lover to dinner in a
slinky gown, pearls, and heels - and nothing more.  How she had
endured my innuendoes with the waiter, the brief shock and rapid
return to a professional, polite smile when I pinched her nipple
while ordering escargot.  How I had used a fresh carrot - ordered
from the kitchen - to bring her, silently.  And how she had eaten
it, slowly, relishing her own juices, and smiling evilly at that
same waiter.
 
In this way, our correspondence flourished.  We shared more and
more of our fantasies and experiments, never really being sure
which were which.  We discovered the turn-on's we had in common -
exhibitionism, physical restraint, and creative uses of food -
and those we didn't - your love of spanking, mine for butt plugs.
 
Our next step was to send instructions to each other, to be
carried out precisely, then reported upon in great detail.
Sometimes they were favors to be done for our lovers of the
moment; other times they were instructions to be carried out in
public.  And as each message arrived, we would feel the building
anticipation of what was to happen next; what strange and excit-
ing situation would we find ourselves in this time.  Sometimes,
although less frequently, we would report of excursions that we
had initiated ourselves; the one thread which ran through all of
these was the fantasy we shared of the other watching, unseen by
anyone else.  It was this secret presence which added the extra
spice to our hormonal excursions, and kept our partners wondering
at our intriguing and unexpected ideas.
 
We kept a pact that started off implied, yet soon became explic-
it:  we never shared photos, we never shared addresses, we never
even spoke to each other.  Despite the fact that either of us
could have easily tracked the other down, no contact beyond the
electronic mail was ever made.  What had been a desire for priva-
cy quickly turned into a boon for fantasy:  now we had the other
as we imagined them:  no less, and how could it be more?
 
(to be continued)
 
===============================================================
 
 
OK, OK, I said "Part 1 of 2" last time.  Looks like this is "Part
2 of 3".  But not more than 4.  Really.
---------------------------------------------------------------
 
Standard disclaimers about sex.  Consensual for the moment.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------
 
 
 
One day, though, things took an unexpected change.  The day you
sent me that terrifying - and thrilling - command.  Of course I
had to comply; and here is what happened...
 
As we often shared some of the smaller details of our lives, I
had told you that I would be in San Francisco on business for a
long weekend.  You had questioned me about that in a little more
detail than usual, but I didn't pay too much attention to it:  I
knew you were from the other coast, and your explanation of it
being one of your favorite cities certainly matched my appraisal
of it.  So I was truly caught by surprise when you told me that
you had something special planned for me, but that I would have
to promise to go along with it before you would tell me; no
hedging allowed.
 
I agonized over my response for hours.  I knew that if I were to
say yes, and I didn't follow through, that you would find out.
Somehow.  I didn't know how I knew this, but my gut was wrenching
overtime.  So, naturally, I wrote back a single, simple message:
"Yes, mistress."
 
Your directives were there in minutes - you must have been watch-
ing the mail, waiting for my response.  I got just that much more
excited realizing how much anticipation you must have been feel-
ing.  Perversely, I wished for a moment that I had waited a bit
longer to respond.  Then I dove into your message.
 
"I have a friend in San Francisco," you had written, "who I trust
explicitly.  She was my mentor - and occasional lover - many
years ago.  She will have a message waiting for you at the Saint
Francis.  Follow her wishes, serve her completely, and tell me
the story on your return."  Fear and erotic anticipation filled
me simultaneously; my suspicions had been correct.  I fired off a
repeat of my first message, and logged off.
 
I spent the rest of the week barely able to concentrate; fortu-
nately, my cohorts all ascribed it to my excitement over going to
San Francisco.  If only they knew how right they were!  Finally,
Friday arrived, and I boarded my flight with a million fantasies
racing through my head.  Fortunately, I had no neighbor in the
seat next to me, since I had to keep shifting to keep my erection
under control.  I thought about just jacking off in the toilet,
but I didn't dare.  I knew it would be breaking the rules.
Finally, with thoughts of how I would repay you for this present
- both in the beneficent and perverse senses - I drifted off to
erotic dreams.
 
When I checked in at the St.  Francis, sure enough, there was a
message waiting for me.  "7 PM, front lobby.  Coat and tie, green
handkerchief in your pocket.  Anne."  Green handkerchief?  Where
in the world was I supposed to get a green handkerchief?  Wor-
ried, and a little exhausted, I stumbled into my room, unpacked
quickly, then went back down to the concierge.  Sure enough, she
could direct me to an, ahem, appropriate store.  A couple of
hours later I returned, with a green handkerchief and tie, and
retreated to the bar.  On impulse I had picked up a single rose
corsage, pink and green.  Two hours to go - a stiff gin and tonic
to relax me, and all would be well.  To be repeated ad nauseum,
until it worked.
 
Naturally, I was ready on time.  Never one to be late, now I
feared being too early, so I returned to the bar at 6:45 to wait
out the final moments and arrive precisely on time.  I even went
so far as to find a time and temperature recording to get my
watch set just right.  I made my entrance at exactly 7PM, and
waited.  And waited.  And worried - had I been the victim of a
hoax?  It was 7:30, where was she?  At 7:45, now a worthless
wreck, the bell boy came over to me, "Excuse me, sir?  Are you
waiting for Anne?"
 
"Yes!" I blurted out, betraying my impatience.
 
"Then this is for you, sir," was the blase' reply, and I found a
sealed envelope discreetly pressed into my hand.  Before I could
reply, he was off on another page.  Sitting down in one of the
plush chairs, I quickly - and carefully - tore open the envelope.
"I'm in the restaurant, at the Smith table, with a friend.  Don't
delay."  I was off to the glass elevators in a flash.
 
Arriving at the top floor, I took a moment to check my hair in
the mirror, drew a deep breath, and approached the maitre d'.  He
directed me to the "Smith" table, where two women sat in elegant
dress and quiet conversation.  As I approached, my mind raced:
which one was Anne?  The woman facing me, in a flowing, V-necked
floral-patterned dress, hair cut short in tight curls, with two
posts in each earlobe; or the other, with shoulder-length brown
hair, an open-back black dress?  Taking a cue from the way the
first nodded to the second after catching my eye, and the way the
second did not turn, I bowed slightly to each, and presented my
corsage to the second.  "Anne, I presume?" I said in my smoothest
tones, hoping my pounding heart would not reveal itself in a
shaking hand or quivering voice.  With the slightest smile, and
the merest nod, she accepted my offering and confirmed my guess.
I sat down between them and drew a deep breath.  The game was on.
 
"Jacques, allow me to introduce you to one of my dearest friends,
Mary.  She'll be joining us for dinner, but then I'm afraid she
has other, um, obligations."
 
"The pleasure is mine, I assure you."  That's it, I thought, keep
it formal, get the lay of the land.  What was going to happen?
What had I gotten myself into?
 
"Jacques, Ellen has told me all about you, and intimated that you
would be a most promising, er, student.  I know the assurances
you have given her, and I would not disparage her by offering you
the chance to slight her.  So I want you to know that, by your
presence here, you have consigned yourself to my whims for the
weekend.  Is that clear?"
 
"Very clear, Anne.  What form of address would you prefer?"
 
"Good, Jacques.  Good.  You may address me as Lady Anne, and Mary
here simply as 'Miss'.  Any other questions?"
 
"No, Lady Anne.  I appreciate your confidence in me, and will do
my best to make you proud of Ellen's recommendation to you."  Ye
gods, this was starting to sound archaic!  Perhaps it would just
turn into some kind of Gothic romance novel, punctuated by sexual
innuendo, and culminating in a brief, albeit kinky, night of
lust.  A quiet voice warned me that this was not likely.
 
Lady Anne quickly validated that tiny, terrified voice.
"Jacques, there are two primal tests of obedience, the first of
which I consider to be over-rated:  to delay orgasm until in-
structed by your Mistress.  The second is, to my mind, much more
telling:  to have an orgasm on command, when conditions are, let
us say, adverse.  Based on Ellen's recommendations, I will now
put you to that test.  Miss Mary and I have ordered some arti-
chokes as appetizers, and we happen to enjoy a topping of semen
to bring out all the flavor."  My face must have gone completely
pale, as my penis convulsed in bewilderment between erection and
flaccid retreat.
 
"Hmm.  I appreciate your dilemma, given the unusual nature of my
desire.  I am not inclined to go without, but I do think I can
offer you a little assistance.  Just be sure to have the topping
ready before the waiter arrives.  Mary?"
 
'Before the waiter arrives?!'  When had the order been placed?
How could I cum in one of the fanciest restaurants in San Fran-
cisco?  What the fuck was I doing?  Confusion reigned supreme;
some other part of me noticed Mary smiling sweetly and handing me
a small container.  She calls this 'assistance'?  Retrieving it
automatically, I placed it in my lap and quietly unzipped my
pants, looking around nervously for signs of discovery.  My cock
had decided on erection, fortunately, and quickly sprang out of
my boxer shorts.  When my glance next settled on Mary, though, I
saw what Anne had meant.
 
There was Mary, calmly sliding her hand into her dress and re-
trieving her left breast.  Without apparent regard for exposure,
she began tracing the outlines of her bosom, paying particular
attention to her nipple.  Soon it was erect, and after a few firm
pinches to extend it further, she dipped her thumb and forefinger
into the small dish of vegetable dip, then thoroughly coated the
no longer tiny nipple with the sweet concoction.
 
That was all my swollen prick needed.  After a quick couple of
passes over the head to pick up all the pre-cum I could (and
there was plenty), I began stroking as quickly as I could, trying
to maintain the delicate balance between discretion and rapid
delivery.  Soon I was feeling that fuzzy sense of orgasm creeping
up from just below my balls, and part of me knew I was at a
critical moment:  a few more strokes and I'd be irrevocably
committed to orgasm; any untoward interruption, however, and all
would be lost.  Anne chose that moment to decide my fate; perhaps
she saw the glaze in my eyes, or noticed the change in my breath-
ing.  In any event, she did a quick reconnoiter of the room, then
leaned over and licked the dip from Mary's nipple.
 
 
===============================================================
 
 
"Part 3 of 4".  But not more than 4.  Really.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------
 
Standard disclaimers about sex.  Consensual for the moment.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------
 
Before Mary could discreetly dry her breast with her napkin and
safely tuck herself away, they had their topping.  Most of it in
the container, even!  Basking in the most bizarre afterglow I had
experienced in a while, I noticed the waiter approaching.  Just
in time, I thought.
 
"May I take your order?"
 
"Yes, please," Mary replied.  "We'll each have your artichoke
appetizers, while we settle on dinner."  Then, quietly turning to
me, "Just a little safety margin the first time around.  Next
time, you may not be so lucky!"
 
The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, or at least, that's the
way it seemed to me.  Mostly I was caught in a daze of fantasies
about what would happen after dinner, my mind - and body - racing
between intense arousal and terror.  Two moments do "stand out"
in my mind, though:  the first early on, the second at the end.
 
That first event took place as the waiter brought the artichokes.
As he was placing them in front of us, each peeled back like
labial lips, Mary handed the container, full of my now-congealing
jism, to Anne, who smiled a polite "thank you" and began spooning
it onto her artichoke with her dessert spoon.  At the waiter's
discreetly raised eyebrows, she said, ever so sweetly, "A hand-
made topping - from a friend!" and continued, oblivious.  She
then passed the container to Mary, who, after anointing her
artichoke, passed the container to me.  "Finish it off," Anne
ordered, "and be sure the container is quite clean before you
return it to Mary!"
 
While it was not the first time I had tasted cum, it was the
first in many years, and never before had I consumed some that
had been, as it was, standing for so long.  It really didn't do
much for me, and in fact it turned my stomach a bit, especially
when I had to clean the container with my finger, but I performed
as directed.  Naturally, neither Anne nor Mary had any comment;
in fact, they conducted themselves through dinner as if I weren't
there.  There conversation had little to do with anything partic-
ularly of interest to me:  local politics, a book they had read,
etc.  Every now and then one or the other would turn to me, smile
patronizingly, and caress my hair, or beard, or occasionally
pinch my ass or balls, but mostly I was ignored.  They ordered a
Caesar salad for me, and a glass of mineral water; to keep me
from getting too full, they said.
 
Soon, it seemed, they were ordering dessert.  As the waiter left,
Lady Anne reached into her purse and pulled out a cock cage.  A
study in elegance it was:  leather with silver studs, along with
a rubber cock ring that looked a size or to too small.  "Do you
know what this is?" she asked.
 
"Yes, my Lady," I replied, my heart pounding, "it is a cock
cage."
 
"Describe for Miss Mary how one wears it."
 
"Yes, my Lady."  As I turned to Mary, I saw her eyes widen a bit
with anticipation.  "Miss Mary, first this rubber ring is
stretched over the cock, and pulled close to the base.  Then this
longer thong is clasped around the root of the cock, on the other
side of the balls, as tightly as possible.  Finally, this shorter
thong is passed below the cock, between the balls, through the
ring, and back, and again snapped tightly.  This ensures that the
balls are separated, the cock is held straight out, and the
erection is maintained for long periods.  Does that satisfy you,
Lady Anne?"
 
"A good explanation, Jacques.  But what will satisfy me - for the
moment - is to have you  go into the men's room and put this cage
on.  Oh yes, and bring back your boxers to me - you won't be
needing them any more tonight.  Be back in, oh, less than five
minutes."
 
"Yes, My Lady," I hastily replied, and excused myself from the
table, stuffing the cock ring in my pocket.  As I hurried to the
men's room, I tried to will my erection away; putting on a cage
like this in such a short time would be difficult enough without
a raging erection to make matters, ah, harder.
 
When I got into the men's room, Murphy struck.  There was not a
stall free; all the doors were closed and locked.  There was no
one at the urinals, though, and so with barely a thought to what
I was doing, I dropped my pants, stepped out of my boxers, and
stepped back into my pants.  I managed to get the ring on and
first thong snapped before the door to one of the stalls opened
up.  There I was, bare-assed, my hands on my cock, my boxers on
the sink.  The man in the suit wasn't pleased, and rushed out of
the room.  The one good effect was that I had quickly lost my
erection; getting the last thong attached was easy.  But by the
time I had got my pants up, the unusual friction had restored my
hard on; by the time I exited the men's room, boxer shorts in
pocket, my caged cock was making quite a spectacular tent of my
pants.
 
[to be concluded]
 
==============================================================
 
 
 
Part 4 of 4.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------
 
Standard disclaimers about sex.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------
 
Glancing at my watch as I approached the table, I was pleased to
see that I had made it under the deadline.  But my pleasure
vanished when I saw Lady Anne's face:  a study in disgust and
disapproval.  "You are making a spectacle of yourself with your
adolescent hormones," she spat out.  "Look at the mess you have
made of your pants!"  And sure enough, another supply of pre-cum
had produced a wonderful dark spot at the apex of my "tent."  I
hung my head in shame.  "Forgive me, my Lady," I cowered.
 
"Forgiveness must be earned," she hissed.  "I am leaving.  When
you can comport yourself appropriately, you may come to my room
and try to earn that which you may never deserve.  1717."  And
she left, Mary in close pursuit.
 
I collapsed, mortified, in the chair.  Soon, I knew, I would have
to go and face the music.  But first I would have to change my
pants.
 
Gathering my courage, I left the restaurant as quickly as I
could, conscious of all the eyes upon me.  Hurrying up to my
room, I formed a plan as to how I could get back to Lady Anne's
room without another "spot."  Once inside my room, I tore off my
clothes, got out a different outfit (I knew it wouldn't be good
to arrive in unmatched clothes), and slipped a condom over my
cock.  Unlubricated, of course - that ought to deal with the
stains.  Then, after a quick glance in the mirror, I headed up to
room 1717.  All in all, it had taken less than ten minutes.
 
When I arrived outside her door, I knocked gently.  "My Lady
Anne, your miserable servant is here, and begs your permission to
pay his penance."  God, I hope nobody hears me now!  "Wait" was
the only reply.  Which I did.
 
The cynical part of my brain figured she was hoping for another
spot to form.  While I was still quite hard, I figured I had that
one licked, so to speak.  After a seemingly interminable wait, I
heard her voice again.  "You may come in now," she said, "but
leave your clothes outside.  Except the cock cage."
 
My face must have turned beet red - it certainly felt hot enough!
But this was too far gone by now to quit.  Furtively glancing up
and down the hall, I got out of my clothes as quickly as I could,
dumping them into a small, if untidy, pile.  Just as I was about
to go in, I glanced down at the rubber.  Better lose it too, I
thought, and quickly disposed of it.  Then I entered the room.
 
The room turned out to be a suite, occupied by Lady Anne, Miss
Mary, and a severe woman sitting deep in an overstuffed chair.
Lady Anne was replete with leather:  long gloves, high boots,
choker, and (the only time I have ever seen this) a leather
pushier.  This last was a piece of art.  It ended just above her
crotch, where her thick fuzz began, seeming at first glance to be
attached lace.  Above, her breasts were raised up, her nipples
just peeking over the top edge.  In her hand she held a riding
crop; her eyes were fiery.  My cock twitched at the sight.
 
Miss Mary was in stark contrast to Lady Anne.  Dressed in a soft,
billowy peasant's dress, her shoulder length hair held in place
with a cloth head band, her head bowed ever so slightly in a
fashion which transmitted submission.  And the enigma in the
corner:  her black, straight, hair pulled back into a bun.  Dark
grey suit, or so it seemed in the dim corner.  Straight out of
some kinky Alice in Wonderland.
 
"Don't stand there gaping, you insolent twerp!  Don't you have
something to say?"
 
Jarred back to the moment, I immediately dropped to the floor.
"Please forgive me for the weakness of my body before, Lady Anne.
It was thoughtless of me to subject you to such a public dis-
grace.  I am resolved to earn your forgiveness; give me my pen-
ance, and I will execute it faithfully!"  I kept my head bowed,
and waited for her response.
 
"You have not yet earned the right to perform your penance.
First, you must tend to my faithful servant; then, if you satisfy
her, I will consider your request.  Miss Mary, he is yours."  And
with that Lady Anne took a seat on a simple wooden chair to
watch.
 
Mary came over to me and said, quietly, "I want to explore.
Please don't come."
 
To which Lady Anne replied, "Show more spunk, girl!"  But clearly
it was out of Mary's nature.  She pointed to a mat which was laid
out next to the bed and said, a bit more loudly, "Down on all
fours, and don't move!"  I dashed over, got on all fours, facing
the two seated women, my cock dripping with pre-cum.  After a
brief glance into their eyes, I thought better of it and lowered
my head.
 
For the next half hour, Mary did as thorough a cataloging of my
body as I imagine is possible.  She caressed, licked, and nibbled
every part of me, beginning with my hair, and moving slowly down
my torso to my sensitive feet.  Her tongue pressed on to and into
everything:  tasting my ears, pressing against my closed eyes,
running across my lips, down my spine, probing briefly at my
asshole, circling my balls, running down the backs of my legs,
exploring between my toes.  Her hands stroked every surface:  the
lines between my chin and neck, the ridges on the back of my ear,
the soft hair on my chest, the quivering of my arms as they
remained steady, holding me up, the ridges of my spine, the
little depression just at its base, the goosebumps on my thighs,
the narrowness of my calves, the boniness of my ankles and feet.
Then she turned to Lady Anne.  "I'd like the toys now, My Lady!"
Lady Anne went over behind the bar and retrieved something; I
dared not lift my head to look.  Another rustle of fabric as Mary
returned.  "I've always wanted to try this," she said, mostly to
herself.
 
I watched with some trepidation as she took a nipple clamp and
placed it on my left nipple.  I could not keep from flinching as
it grabbed hold; all the while, Mary was watching my face intent-
ly.  I reacted a bit less to the second clamp, but my eyes must
have widened a great deal when I saw her move back and prepare to
clamp my balls, already aching from their continued confinement
in the cock cage.  I hissed inward to control the pain as each
clamp was applied, but otherwise maintained my composure.  Then
Mary took for weights, and hung one from each clamp.  I was in
agony now, and my body started to shake.  "Control yourself!"
Lady Anne barked, and with an effort of will I quieted my body.
 
Then Mary continued with her explorations.
 
After gently batting the weights back and forth on my nipples,
she moved next to my ass.  Reaching around, she gathered up some
of my pre-cum from my cock - I was like a leaky faucet, now - and
slathered up my asshole.  Then, slowly, deliberately, she started
working something into my ass; a dildo, by the feel of it.
Further and further in it went, twisting, probing, and then
withdrawing.  Soon she started fucking me with it, and I prayed
that she wouldn't touch my cock, otherwise I would surely cum.
Finally, just before I felt certain I would shoot my load, she
stopped, withdrawing it, and caressed my asshole with her finger-
tips.
 
Then she moved to my cock.  It was hard, wet, and throbbing.
Anyone could tell I was on the verge of coming.  Would she spare
me Lady Anne's wrath, or not?  With a firm grip, she reached down
and grabbed a hold of me.  "Stand up," she declared, "I wish to
taste your juices.  But don't cum!"  With that, she pulled me
upright, as I stumbled a bit from being on my hands and knees for
so long.  The weights bounced around viciously as I got up, and
the pain helped hold back my orgasm.  Then, as I stood motionless
before them, she got down on her knees and licked my cock clean.
She smiled as she did so, never taking me into her mouth.  I had
been spared.
 
When Mary was done, she turned to Lady Anne and said, "Thank you,
My Lady.  He is an interesting creature," and stepped back.
 
"Are you sure you're satisfied, Miss Mary?  Has he serviced your
needs sufficiently?"
 
Mary's head bowed, her face reddened.  "May I have him..."
 
"Of course!"
 
"And would you hold me, My Lady?"
 
"Certainly, my dear."
 
With that began the scene I never expected to witness.  Lady Anne
got on the bed, sitting with her back to the wall, cushioned by
the massive pillows, legs spread wide.  Then Miss Mary climbed on
the bed, laying down with her head in Lady Anne's crotch, her
legs and arms outstretched.  Lady Anne reached down and held Mary
securely by her shoulders and arm pits.  Then she said, "Jacques,
come here and lift Miss Mary's dress.  Then you may kneel before
her and bring her to orgasm with your mouth and tongue."
 
Gently I raised Mary's dress above her waist, revealing her
slender legs, her lush bush, and her inflamed, moist pussy lips.
Not wasting a moment, I settled in to providing Mary with the
most exquisite pussy licking I knew how to give.  I was a little
sorry not to be able to use my fingers as well, but I knew I
could put my nose to good use without raising any objections.  I
started by lightly tracing the outside of her labia with my
tongue, then licking more broadly and firmly across her clit.  As
I snuggled down into her fragrant snatch to suck at her opening,
I used my nose to press and manipulate her clit.  Then the long,
slow licks which started inside her, gradually withdrew, coursed
up to her bush, and stopped.  She was not long in responding;
soon she had her knees bent so she could thrust her pelvis
against me.  I kept the pace slow, but began sucking and toying
with her clit more.  Soon she was moaning, and writhing exqui-
sitely.
 
I looked up briefly as I completed one of my long licks, and saw
a delicious sight.  There was Mary's head, pressed firmly against
Lady Anne's twat, twisting and grinding away.  Lady Anne was
clearly enjoying it:  her eyes were closed and a soft, ecstatic
smile was on her lips.  Not daring to tarry too long on the view,
I returned to my efforts.  Soon a second set of sighs began; Lady
Anne was getting off.  Mary was struggling against her grip, and
I was doing everything I can to prolong the experience.  I knew
it would be worth my while to have Lady Anne cum as well.  So as
Mary seemed close to coming - her pussy walls would start to
throb - I would withdraw my mouth, kiss her thighs, anything to
help her back off.  Then, when I felt it was safe, I would renew
my ministrations.
 
The final moments seemed to be upon me when I heard a third moan
join the chorus; this time from the austere woman behind me.  I
desperately wanted to see what she was doing, how she was manag-
ing to pleasure herself, but I knew that would be fatal.  So I
pressed onward, nibbling, sucking, and licking, now determined to
bring Mary as quickly as I could.
 
It didn't take much.  Suddenly her hips raised off the bed, and
my head was locked between her thighs.  I could feel the whole
bed shake as Mary and Lady Anne let loose with their orgasms; I
hoped the mystery woman was too, although I could hear very
little.  When I was about to despair of ever being able to
breathe again, Mary abruptly released me, and collapsed.  Looking
up, I saw that Lady Anne had cum as well; she was listing to one
side, her hands now idly caressing Mary's breasts through the
dress.  Still, I dared not turn around, but merely waited pa-
tiently for my next instruction.
 
Eventually, Lady Anne got up off the bed, leaving Mary to lie in
peace.  "You have earned your right to penance," she said.  "Get
back on the mat on all fours."  I scrambled off the bed and
resumed my earlier position.  A blindfold was placed over my
eyes, the weights clamped to my nipples and balls were swung for
good measure, and then Lady Anne spoke again.
 
"If you successfully endure this punishment, I will consider
taking you on as a student.  I will also be reporting your per-
formance to Ellen.  Any questions?"  I shook my head no.  "Very
good.  I want you to endure the punishment for as long as you
can.  You will signal that you are through by achieving orgasm.
Oh yes, please stay as silent as you can."
 
There was an awful pause.  Then the dildo was suddenly at my
asshole, demanding entry.  I relaxed my muscles as much as I
could, and allowed it in.  After a few moments of fucking, it was
withdrawn, and replaced by a larger butt plug.  I gasped as it
was inserted deep inside me, and fastened with some kind of
strap.  I heard Lady Anne's voice, "Yes, place the receptacle
underneath him.  Good.  Now, let us begin."
 
With that, I felt two things simultaneously:  someone grabbed
hold of my cock, and I was stropped across my ass.  I recoiled
from the pain, but quickly regained my position.  Another blow,
and the hand began pumping.  There was an odd syncopation to the
two sensations; the strokes bringing me closer to orgasm, the
blows initially pushing me further away.  I knew I would not be
able to endure this for long, and was glad that I had not been
ordered to refrain from coming.  Soon, that low growl started to
emerge from my throat, and I knew that orgasm was imminent.  The
blows and strokes continued until my first glob of cum streaked
out; then the blows stopped.  My body was wracked with shudders
as spurt followed spurt.  The weights were flying back and forth,
pulling mercilessly at my nipples.  I heard a voice say, "Milk
him dry."  The strokes continued, squeezing every last bit of
fluid out from me, until I was in pain from trying to produce
more.  Finally whoever was milking me stopped, and I heard some-
thing removed from beneath me.  I struggled to keep from collaps-
ing on the mat.
 
"Stand up," were Lady Anne's next words.  I did so, the cock cage
started to slowly slide off my now withering cock.  Hands reached
round to unsnap and remove it; otherwise, everything kept quite
still.  Finally, the blindfold was removed, and everyone was back
as I had seen them; Lady Anne imperiously presiding over every-
one, Miss Mary standing demurely to one side, and the mystery
lady sunken into the chair.  "Your penance is now complete.
Leave us now."  And with that, she turned her back on me.
 
Staggered by the bluntness of my dismissal, I stumbled through
the door.  A quick glance back drew a hiss of disapproval; momen-
tarily mindless of my naked state, I bolted into the hall.  There
were two women, not more than a yard from me, heading toward the
elevator.  As they shrieked, I grabbed my clothes and ran into
the men's room.  After dressing as fast as I could, I poked my
head out of the door, and satisfied that the coast was clear, I
headed toward my room.
 
Once back, I took a long, hot bath and tried to understand what I
had done.  Already, it seemed like a bizarre dream.
 
I only have one question for you now, Ellen:  which woman were
you?
 
*******************************************************************************
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