"As Sir said, come back anytime Jordana. It was fun thank you." I lean in and kiss her softly.
"Thank you for everything, Come home more often damn you." She pulls her bag out of the back seat and turns to open the door. I reach over and snap her ass with the back of my hand once more.
"Tease." She calls back as she walks backwards through the doors of the airport. I laugh and pull away replaying the weekend.
I make my way through the front door. Sir is standing at the end of the stairs. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him all over.
"Sessa." Sir says in a stern tone.
"Yes Daddy?" I look up at him.
"If I remember correctly- someone had a sharp tongue with her Daddy last night; do you remember who that was?" He raises one eye brow.
"It was Casper!" I answer with a smile and turn to run. He grabs my arm and smacks my ass.
"Nice try." He laughs and leads me up stairs.
I'm always in trouble.... But it's worth it.
Megans Degradation
Megan closed her eyes and tried to think about how her life could have got so badly out of control. She was handcuffed to a water pipe in a public toilet booth on her hands and knees, skirt and knickers around her ankles and a trickle of cum running slowly down the insides of her thighs. One of the stockings she had been wearing was stuffed in her mouth while the other was across her mouth tied at the back. A solitary tear ran a track through her mascara. All she could do now was wait for her tormentor to come and release her...
It had all begun with a simple mistake. She'd been out to a nightclub with her friends when a good looking stranger had approached her and offered to buy her a drink. Normally she would have politely refused but having had a lot to drink her inhibitions had slipped away and so she thought "what the hell, it's only a drink". One drink led to another and then another. He seemed such a nice guy and they were getting on great but even Megan would admit that it was no explanation for how she ended up outside around the back of the club with him.
Her head was swimming but despite the drunken haze she could feel herself getting excited. Megan could never be described as a beauty, nor would anyone have said that she had a great body but at 25 years old she was pretty in a plain way with strong facial features centered around a long but straight nose and pretty brown eyes. Her body was curvaceous with large 34 DD breasts which were still pert and a big ass that was firm despite being wide at the hips. Her body was finished off with long slim legs and slender ankles.
Somehow her top came up over her bra and then the clasp on the bra was released exposing her breasts. She felt his mouth close over one of her nipples and suck hard while a hand forced her short skirt up to her waist. She reached down and undid the zip on his jeans and felt inside for his cock. It was a decent size and a little thrill ran through her in anticipation of what was going to happen. He pulled his jeans down and kicked them off then kissed her deeply parting her mouth and darting his tongue against her own. Megans body started to respond, her nipples growing hard and her cunt starting to get moist. Pushing her against the wall he ran a finger along her damp thong and started to edge the skimpy material down, getting halfway down her thighs before a sound startled her. She jumped and tried to cover herself but the guy she now realized she knew virtually nothing about, not even his name, held a finger to her lips and stayed her. After a few moments of held breath they both relaxed when there were no more noises. Now though she was scared remembering how close they were to the road and the fact they could be caught at anytime. Gently she felt her thong pulled down to her knees and then felt it drop to her ankles. Pushing his tongue into her mouth more forcefully this time, he parted her legs with his hands and she felt something pressing against her sex. She hadn't noticed him do it but he had released his cock which is what she could feel pushing up against her. He ran it up and down her labia slowly working the lips apart, lingering now and then against her clit. Megan moaned with pleasure while at the same time trying to push him off, fearing being caught. Then suddenly with a gasp she felt him push harder and he was in her. The tightness told her she had misjudged his size and that his cock was much bigger than she had thought almost too big in fact. She began to forget her fears as he thrust his cock into her slow at first then faster, deeper and harder while he grabbed her big ass in his hand then parted the cheeks and began to rub her asshole. The other hand moved up to her breasts to pinch and stroke her nipples. His size was making her groan with each thrust and the fear of being heard served to intensify the pleasure for them both. He started to grunt a little and the depth of his stroke told her he was about to come. With one last push he shot his load deep in her for what seemed like an age only adding to her disappointment as she hadn't come herself. He shuddered for a moment then pulled out and away from her.
Whatever Megan had been expecting next it wasn't what actually happened. He turned his back on her and walked away leaving her with her a bedraggled partially clothed mess and feeling humiliated and used. Pulling her clothes back on she headed for the taxi rank, desperate to get home.
* * *
It wasn't just being used and discarded by a random guy that troubled Megan when she woke the next morning. Though she had been drunk she couldn't have forgotten about her fiancé Chris. Not only had she allowed herself to be used, she had betrayed her fiancés trust. Chris had left for work an hour ago and Megan didn't have to be at work until the afternoon so she was able to stay in bed for a lazy morning sleeping the drink of the previous night off. Around eleven she rose put on a pair of silk pajamas and went down stairs to make coffee but when she got halfway down the stairs she saw that the post had arrived and so collected it from the doormat on the way to the kitchen. The kettle bubbled languidly while she sifted through the mail, a bill, a special offer on camping equipment and a bank statement were the usual run of the mill stuff but she saved the largest envelope for last, the A4 manila simply addressed Megan with no stamp or postal mark had piqued her interest and she had decided to open it when the coffee was made. Stirring the last of the milk into the cup she picked the envelope up and carried it, along with the steaming cup to the lounge flicking the TV on along the way. She took a sip of coffee and opened the envelope, the contents spilling onto the floor. She picked up six A4 glossy photographs of herself first semi naked, then kissing, then three of her fucking her stranger the third of which was a close up of her face and finally a picture of her alone trying drunkenly to get dressed. Inside the envelope was a note.
"You put on quite a show last night. Do exactly as I say and your partner will never find out what a whore you are. You will receive instructions."
Megan was stunned. Tears ran down her face as tried to work out what to do. She knew she should come clean and tell her fiancé and call the police but she was terrified of losing Chris. Despite her drunken stupidity she loved him a lot and they were getting married in a few months. As she procrastinated the phone rang. Her heart hammered in her chest as she picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hello Megan" a husky voice sounded in her ear.
"I'm sorry who is this?" She blurted out as her panic started to swell.
"I'm your amateur photographer. I said you would receive instructions and so here I am". His voice sounded sweetly sincere but the undertone was of a leering quality.
He continued "You have a nice body Megan. I think everyone deserves to see it. Take of your pajamas. I'll know if you don't."
Megan was aghast but before she could protest the voice spoke again "Unless you want me to send your photos to Chris at work?" It wasn't a question but a threat. Starting to cry a little but seeing no other option Megan unbuttoned her top and let it fall the floor. She then inched her pajama trousers down and kicked them off.
"From now on when your fiancé is out you will be naked in the house. You will answer the door naked. You will cook naked. The only time you are permitted to wear clothes is when your fiancé returns home. Do you understand?"
Megan managed to croak an affirmative out.
"You are also forbidden to wear any underwear again. Is that clear?"
"Yes" she replied.
"Ok. Lay back on the sofa and masturbate for me. Don't stop until you come. Remember I'll know if you cheat."
Before Megan could answer the phone was dead. She lay back on the sofa, spread her legs and put her hands down to her sex. Surprisingly she was wet between the legs and her fingers slid into place easily. Gently at first and then more and more roughly she rubbed, stroked and caressed herself, eventually pushing two fingers deep inside her throbbing cunt. Finally she felt herself starting to climax. Bucking her hips against the cold leather of the sofa she pushed her fingers in deeper whilst rubbing her clit and with a moan came with three last thrusts of her fingers. She went into the kitchen and got some paper to clean the mess off the sofa.
* * *
Megan shifted in the cubicle. She had drifted off with the reminiscence and a glance at her watch said it was 15 minutes since she had started thinking about her predicament.
The forced masturbation had only been the start.
It’s Her Time
Four o'clock, I'm sure you said four o'clock, I think to myself, worrying now as I pull in to the car park. I always panic that I'm late. The clock on my dash says I have eight minutes to spare. Plenty of time. I have a quick look in the mirror, brush my hair, check my teeth. Ready. I check the text again, room 210. I nod to myself and get out of the car.
I only have a small bag with me - one outfit for this evening and the rest of the bag filled with minimal toiletries and the highest number of sex toys I could fit in. You had assured me that my clothing needs would be minimal for the next two days and gave me very precise instructions on what to bring and what not to bring. I run through it in my head: dress, revealing yet feminine; hold ups, lace topped; under bust corset and black push up bra. Really not a very long list at all. No underwear, no nightwear, nothing for the following day. I could only assume the clothes I travelled here in wouldn't be worn for long to ensure they could be worn again tomorrow. The thought made my pussy clench, my juices already coating my bare lips as I reached my hand up to knock on the door of room 210.
My eye caught my watch as I did, right on time. I heard some movement on the other side of the door. Then your voice, clear and almost mocking in tone, "who is it?"
That threw me. How should I answer? I look around me. Then back at the door. There's a peephole right there, he knows it's me. I check around me again, definitely no one around.
"It's me, Sir," I try to say clearly but it comes out as a frantic whisper.
"You'll have to speak up, I can't hear you," this time I can tell you're definitely mocking me. I can practically hear the smile in your voice.
"It's your little sub Sir," I say, louder this time, surely you heard me.
"Sorry, still can't hear you, who?" you tease.
"Your little sub Sir," I almost shout the last word as I see the door handle turning. I hear another handle behind me. I must have been loud enough to have made someone else open their door. Hurry, I think, please hurry. You pull the door open slowly, and stand on the threshold.
"Ah, it is you. I wasn't sure with all that mumbling you were doing. What's wrong? Why do you keep looking behind you? Look at me when I'm talking to you."
"Yes Sir, I'm sorry Sir." I glance up at your face, noting your soft expression. You're not really mad, you're playing with me. I soon understand why when I hear a door behind me slam shut, then the scratch of a key in a lock. I whip my head round and notice a man around my age locking his room door.
"Look at me I said little sub," you remind me. Not bothering to keep your voice down at all.
"Yes Sir, I'm sorry Sir," I turn back to you whispering, trying to disguise our conversation as a casual one.
"Speak up slut, you know I don't like it when you mumble," you're enjoying yourself thoroughly now. The other man is getting closer to us, only one door away. There's no way he won't hear me.
"Of course Sir. I won't mumble again Sir," I keep my voice at an audible level, only hesitating and then stumbling over the last few words. The guy passes, hearing everything.
"Well done slut, I knew you hadn't forgotten how to speak to me. Now...do you want to come in?"
He's turned around now, intrigued by the situation. His attention caught by the tone of your voice. I'm blushing furiously and trying to hide behind my hair.
"Yes please Sir," I speak without looking at you. You reach out and grab me by the chin.
"Why?"
"I...I...I want you to use me Sir, I need you Sir," my voice is steady now, the passing man barely even on my radar until I hear a yell and a woman shouting to watch where he's going.
Both you and I watch as he tries to apologise to the woman he's just walked into while watching our exchange. You use his distraction from us to grab me by the hair and pull me into the room. The door falls shut behind us as your lips crash into mine and my body hits the door all within seconds. It's dizzying and mind blowing how you take over my mind, how you focus me so completely. My legs part involuntarily, my bag drops to the side and I bring my arms up around you, pulling you into me, wanting to feel you against me.
You allow me the freedom for a few minutes, enjoying the kiss, my hands in your hair, so gentle, the paradox to your hand that is tugging on the fistful of my hair it is currently grabbing hold of, making me gasp into your mouth every so often. Then you let go of my hair, that causing it's own kind of pain. You pull back from me, leaving me standing against the door, legs spread apart and my hands down by my sides.
You look me up and down, assessing me. I have another mental run through of your instructions for my travelling outfit: a mid thigh black skirt; hold ups, tops slightly visible; a buttoned blouse, buttoned to just below my bra, cleavage on display; hair loose; flat shoes; no knickers. That last one was most important. That last one was the reason I'd sat a towel down in the drivers seat for the journey. I'd found my hand wandering between my legs while sat in heavy traffic for five minutes. My lips bare, sticky and slick with my juices.
I'd been turned on before I even started getting dressed, feeling my thighs getting wet as I rolled my hold ups up my legs, pulling my skirt on, buttoning my blouse, checking the buttons in the mirror to ensure I hadn't done too many of them. The frequent flash of cleavage I got as I blow dried my hair convinced me I'd buttoned up exactly how you wanted me. Thinking about driving dressed like this made my pussy tighten in excitement. The looks I'd be getting...It was thrilling and embarrassing at the same time.
Your hand reaches out, touching each piece of my clothing, I can see the mental checklist in your head as your fingertips trace my collarbone and run down my cleavage, over my stomach to the hem of my skirt, skimming the inch of visible hold up. You don't put your hand up my skirt as I expected you to, but instead you take my hands, one at a time, placing them at the bottom of the skirt.
"Show me your cunt, little sub," you demand, your eyes dark with lust.
I let my head fall back, my eyes closed as I obey you, my body responding to you how it always does. You stare at my uncovered pussy, the intensity making me squirm.
"Good girl," you direct your compliment towards my crotch, but I remember to thank you. Then you turn away. As you do I start to lower the hem. You turn back around and your hand is around my throat, your face close to mine.
"Did I tell you to drop your skirt?"
"No Sir, I'm sorry Sir," I stammer and pull it back up to where I'd been holding it. You let go as quickly as you grabbed hold, leaving me panting. I watch you as you move to the middle of the room. This is the first I've looked around.
You've laid out all your toys on a low table beneath the window, you've grabbed my bag and begin to add mine to the array. Looking at the collection makes me smile at my memories of every implement and toy. The flogger I won in a little wager we had. The cane that marked me for four
weeks the first time you used it to punish me. The paddle you loved using to make me squirm, spanking me with it so hard I bled a little that one time. The nipple clamps you so enjoyed putting on me, taking them off and reapplying immediately if I don't hold your gaze as you release their bite on my flesh. I roll my hips reflexively, wanting to press myself against something solid as I recall these memories.
You're watching me I realise, stopping and blushing. I look down for a moment and when I look back up you've gone. The door to the bathroom is shut I notice. I still don't drop the hem of my skirt. I don't move except my head, taking in the rest of the room. The bed looks inviting, soft and covered in an inordinate number of pillows. I briefly wonder which one you'll give me to kneel on. My eyes keep moving. A wardrobe, standard bedside cabinets. No headboard I notice. I look up, only then noticing the supporting beam running across the ceiling. It had hooks all along it. I search the room again, finally spotting the wound up string of flowers that must thread through the hooks. I got a little lightheaded at the thought of those hooks.
Slave Erotica Volume 2 Page 10