by John Argus
Chapter 8
She woke the next morning to find his hands roaming all over her body. She sighed and instinctively spread her legs as fingers gently moved down to her sex. It took almost no effort on his part to set her hips grinding and her back arching in weary pleasure, yet he held back from taking her over the edge.
Instead he clipped the leash to her collar again and led her on all fours to the kitchen. There he had her sit on her heels and clipped her wrist restraints together behind her back as he made himself breakfast. Her stomach was rumbling as she’d had no dinner the previous evening, and she licked her lips as she watched him eat. This time he gave her nothing, barely acknowledging her presence.
‘Do you like it on your knees?’ he asked casually.
‘My knees are getting sore,’ she said.
‘So will your bottom if you complain,’ he said tersely.
He finished his breakfast and led her into the main lounge. There he undid his trousers and made her kneel. ‘I have a guest coming into town in a few days,’ he said. ‘I’m sure he’ll enjoy the sight of such an obedient little toy presented to him.’
She raised her eyes towards him as her stomach fluttered.
‘Yes,’ he went on, ‘I intend to let him use you as he wants.’
‘I – I don’t know if I can do it again,’ she ventured.
‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ he said flatly. ‘All the time you’re here your body belongs to me. You’ll do as I tell you and be enthusiastic about it.’ He stood before her on the thick rug and prodded his flaccid penis against her lips. She opened her mouth instinctively, her mind still ruminating on his words.
‘I think it’s time we worked on your abilities in this area,’ he said. ‘I expect my servant to be able to fully please a man with her mouth, and a man is never fully pleased when he can’t bury his entire sword in the sheath. Do you take my meaning?’
Gwen mumbled around the flesh in her mouth, not really listening to what he was saying.
‘You will have to learn how to take it into your throat.’ He smiled, gazing down with evident satisfaction and watching her head gliding back and forth.
‘It’s all mental, of course,’ he went on. ‘It’s all about self-control, about disciplining the body.’ His hips were pumping gently as he spoke, his hands firmly holding her head as he used her mouth, his glistening cock moving in and out between her tight lips.
‘Just swallow as you always do.’ He chuckled as he pushed deeper and she gagged weakly.
He drew back, holding her head and forcing her to bend forward and lift her chin, then thrust, his fingers tightening in her hair as he fed his erection deep into her mouth, into her throat, continuing until her nose was buried in his pubic hair, her lips were sealed around the very base of his cock, and his balls dangled against her chin.
He held himself there, holding her still as her body struggled to get accustomed to the sensations, then he slowly began to withdraw. ‘Take a deep breath and get ready to swallow,’ he instructed, his tone hinting at the first signs of his arousal.
Gwen moaned but he ignored her, sliding in and out of her mouth. It felt unnatural for her, but there was a certain measure of pride creeping into her thoughts, as well. He eased back and pushed forward, rhythmically, slowly pumping his cock within her throat.
‘Very good,’ he whispered. ‘And now I want you to do all the work. I won’t move.’
Gwen watched the gleaming length of his shaft as it slid slowly forward between her lips, and she accepted it, until finally inhaling deeply, closing her eyes, and easing forward all the way. She felt his cock sink into her throat, then slide deeper and deeper.
‘Excellent,’ he breathed. ‘Very good.’
For some perverse reason Gwen was feeling a growing sense of elation at her achievement.
‘I could pay a thousand dollars for a high class call-girl and still not get such expertise,’ he said, the compliment thrilling her as he caressed her hair. But then he pulled out and she felt secretly disappointed – empty.
‘Not so fast,’ he said, his voice husky. He moved behind her, pushed down and she let her shoulders drop to the floor. Then he unclipped her wrists and guided her back up onto all fours.
‘Doggy style,’ he said crudely, making her feel cheap, rubbing his cock into her furrow. ‘Spread your legs wider, slut, and raise your ass for me.’
She obeyed, panting with excitement, and he mounted her, shifting his grip to her hips. He ground against her raised buttocks. She sighed helplessly, wantonly, her body tingling with pleasure as his groin slapped against her bottom and his glistening shaft stabbed deep into her belly with every lunge. Her knees shuffled wider and she raised her buttocks further, swooning with pleasure as he rode her.
And he rode her savagely, tugging her hair, mauling her breasts, slapping her bottom and flanks. The climax tore at her mind and body and she let out a whimpering song of ecstasy as the pleasure swept her up and carried her to the heights of pleasure. The powerful stroke of his cock was a continuous hammer of pleasure, setting her body to shaking and trembling as he used her.
He leaned across her back, growling in her ear, hips pounding relentlessly, his erection pumping furiously inside her. She came again, her head lolling weakly, her body instinctively thrusting back against him as the pleasure screamed like a storm around her.
This time he finished even as her orgasm continued to rage, and she felt him softening with a greedy moan of despair.
‘Time for you to have a little breakfast,’ Richardson said, and she crawled to the kitchen after him, and ate from a bowl of milk and cereal he put on the floor.
They relaxed together in his large marble bath, Gwen wrapped in his arms as they lay back, wallowing in the fragrant warmth of the water. ‘Masturbate for me,’ he said languidly. His demand made her feel guilty, embarrassed, and very aroused.
‘I think we should go out this evening,’ he said, the water lapping gently over her hands as they moved delicately between her thighs. ‘When I get back from the office.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said dreamily. ‘That would be nice.’
‘A restaurant,’ he suggested. ‘Would you like to go out for dinner?’
Gwen nodded. ‘I would like that very much… thank you, sir…’
The restaurant was one of those expensive haunts of the upper crust Gwen had always avoided. A string quartet played in a corner, and grey hair and conservative styles of clothing predominated.
He led her first into the bar, one of those heavy oak and leather places she tended to think of as men only clubs. There were almost no young men there at all, and few women of any age.
She sat on one of the barstools he indicated, wary of the length of the slit in her dress, while he ordered wine for them both.
‘Not your kind of place, I suppose,’ he said, glancing around at the various people there.
‘No, not usually,’ she said.
‘Wait here, I’ll be back,’ he said without looking at her, as though he hadn’t really heard her response; wasn’t really interested in it.
Gwen sipped her wine, feeling a little uncomfortable by herself in the plush and hushed surroundings.
‘Well, hello there,’ someone crooned. A man sat next to her, taking Richardson’s stool, and gazed at her with a smile of despicable self-confidence. He had a broad build just shy of fat, a rounded face and no hair. ‘You working, baby?’
She stared at him in confusion, only belatedly understanding his meaning. ‘No,’ she snapped indignantly, ‘I’m not working. And someone’s sitting there,’ she added haughtily, indicating the stool.
‘Yeah, me,’ he said dismissively. ‘What’s your name, baby?’
‘Get lost,’ Gwen said without looking at him, and then gratefully caught sight of Richardson returning.
‘Hi,’ he said to the newcomer. ‘Ian Richardson.’
‘George Miller. This girl yours?’ the newcomer said, blunt in the extreme.
‘Only when I tie her down,’ Richardson said, making Gwen cringe and blush. Miller laughed.
‘She’s lovely on the eyes, isn’t she,’ Richardson went on without being prompted, putting his hands on her shoulders.
‘Sure is,’ Miller agreed, his eyes crawling down to her breasts. He started to vacate the stool but Richardson indicated for him to remain where he was.
‘Don’t get up for me,’ he said amiably, ‘we’re not staying long. I hope Gwendolyn was polite to you while I was gone. She has a tendency to forget her manners around her betters.’
Miller looked a little confused.
‘I’ve done my best to discipline her, you see.’
‘Interesting…’ Miller said slowly. ‘Do any good?’
‘Oh, I think so. She does mostly what she’s told now, don’t you, my little slut?’ He dropped a hand to her hip and caressed it possessively.
‘I suppose so,’ she said quietly.
‘That’s not the answer you’re supposed to give, now is it?’ Richardson scolded lightly. Miller’s eyes were widening as he watched Richardson’s hand slip lower and rest between her thighs, pressing her dress into the tight valley between them, and then he pinched her and she started with a cute little squeal of dismay.
‘Yes sir,’ she whispered hastily, ‘I do as I’m told, sir.’
Richardson lifted his hand and lightly touched his fingers to Gwen’s lips. Then he tapped and she peeled them apart, allowing him entrance into her warm mouth. She trembled, sucking obediently, her face colouring scarlet as she saw a man on a nearby table stare, then nudge his companion who stared too, his drink hovering before his open mouth.
Richardson slipped his fingers back out. ‘Don’t be rude now, little slut,’ he whispered. ‘Take Mr Miller’s hand and put it on your thigh, then let him feel up under your dress.’ Her stomach lurched and she froze at the horror of being told to do such a thing in such a public place. ‘Now,’ Richardson growled quietly.
Miller, still staring, was clearly shocked as she reached out for his hand, but offered no resistance as she pulled it to her thigh. The ice chinked in the glass of scotch he held, but his hand moved of its own accord, sliding beneath her dress, burrowing with little finesse between her thighs and actually touching her bare pussy. The ice in his golden drink chinked even more loudly as he took a shaky sip.
‘See what a slut she is, George?’ Richardson mused.
Miller nodded, his voice deserting him.
‘Women like this are never satisfied,’ Richardson said. ‘They’re walking sex machines.’
Gwen still had her hand on Miller’s wrist through the dress, and clutched it tightly as his fingers began to probe her sex. She slid a little further to the edge of the stool, spreading her legs, and stifled a groan as a fat finger pushed inside her.
‘They have no sense of propriety,’ Richardson went on casually. ‘That’s why they need to be disciplined, often.’
‘H-how do you discipline her?’ Miller asked, his voice returning as he stared transfixed at the shape of his hand beneath her dress, moving slightly between her warm thighs.
Gwen could hardly keep her hips still. Her eyes flitted from Miller’s expression of deep concentration to the two men staring from the table. She wondered if anyone else had noticed the shameful behaviour at the bar, and felt a small wave of panic break against the wall of heat gripping her body.
Richardson had an arm draped casually over her shoulder, and his hand slipped down the front of her dress, casually cupping her breast as he talked. But Gwen hardly heard what Richardson was saying as he eased her off the stool and led her, an arm around her waist, out of the bar and into the main restaurant to an intimate table in one secluded corner.
A waiter arrived and Richardson ordered for them both without referring to the proffered menus, and the waiter nodded and quickly left.
‘Think of poor old Miller with an erection and nowhere to put it,’ he eventually said.
‘Fuck Miller,’ Gwen whispered vehemently.
‘Mr Miller, to you,’ he admonished smoothly. ‘And I’m sure he’d approve if you did, but that won’t be necessary. I think a blowjob would be sufficient.’
She pulled a face of distaste and glanced around the room, hoping Richardson would change the subject.
‘I meant that,’ he said.
She looked back at. ‘Meant what?’
‘Miller needs a blowjob. You’ve gotten him all excited, so it’s your duty to take care of him.’
‘You’re the one who got him excited,’ she said carefully.
‘It wasn’t my pussy that had him ready to pop his cork, my dear little slut,’ he said with infuriating confidence.
Gwen did not like the way the conversation was going, knowing that what Richardson wanted, Richardson generally got.
‘There’s an alley outside,’ he went on. ‘Miller will be waiting for you there.’
‘How… how does he—?’
‘Don’t ask how. Just go out to him.’
Gwen stared at him, but with little surprise. ‘I – I can’t…’ she whispered, knowing any objection was futile.
‘Of course you can. And you will. Now. Just go outside to the alley, kneel down, and give Miller what he wants.’ He chuckled. ‘And you can practice your deep throat if you want to see his eyes pop completely out of his head.’ He sat back in his chair and smiled lazily at her. ‘Go on, there’s a good girl.’
‘Please don’t make me—’
‘Now,’ he said firmly. ‘And then you’ll be back just in time for your starters.’
Gwen rose slowly, head spinning. It was cold outside and she moved quickly into the darkened alley, wanting to get the ordeal over with quickly so she could return to the warmth and anonymity of the secluded corner in the restaurant.
She walked past a pile of green plastic garbage bags, hoping Miller had misunderstood Richardson’s message – however it was transmitted. But then his darkened form stepped out from behind a large bin and he loomed over her.
‘Hi baby,’ he whispered hoarsely, unzipping his trousers. She dropped to her knees, shivering in the cold. His cock bobbed free, hard and thick. She engulfed it quickly and was taken completely by surprise when, with a grunt and a stab of his hips, he erupted instantly, filling her mouth with his salty emission. Such was the surprise Gwen nearly choked, but she managed to swallow and suppress the desire to gag, breathing steadily through her nose.
Miller flopped back against the damp wall, his penis hanging absurdly from his open trousers, and Gwen quickly got to her feet and scurried back into the restaurant where she found Richardson waiting at their table. Moments later the starters arrived and she ate hungrily, barely tasting the delicious food, so preoccupied was she with what had just happened. Richardson didn’t speak, he merely watched her closely as he ate too.
When they had both finished Richardson silently motioned for her to rise, and then led her through to the men’s room. It was empty save for one stall, and he silenced any potential questions by touching a finger to her lips, then pulled her into the second stall and locked the door.
He sat back on the toilet and pulled her forward until she was straddling him, then guided her down onto his lap. With great expertise he moved the skirt of her dress out of the way and opened his trousers. Then he folded down her bodice to bare her luscious breasts.
‘Now fuck me,’ he ordered, in a whisper even she could barely hear.
There was a flush from the adjacent stall and she took the opportunity to hide beneath the cover of the noise by rising slightly and then sinking down onto his standing erection. She moaned quite l
oudly, but managed to stifle her exclamation as the sound of churning water died on the opposite side of the flimsy partition.
Water was running into a basin a few feet away as the other man left his cubicle and washed his hands, and then the main door opened and two more men came in, chatting cheerfully.
Richardson began to suck her breasts and his hands cupped her buttocks as she rose and fell steadily on his lap. Men were talking, using the facilities, washing their hands, and yet none were aware of what was going on so close by.
Gwen’s movements became more and more erratic as the heat of pleasure spread through her body. She was so aware of the men nearby but her sexual need drove all such concerns away, and in fact their close proximity only served to heighten her excitement. The need to climax was too primal, too urgent, and she trembled with lust as he chewed at her breasts.
She buried her face in the nape of his neck as she came, whimpering weakly as her pleasure rippled through her. He continued moving her limp body up and down on his turgid erection, not stopping until his own climax sent his seed flooding up into her womb, and then he began to soften.
Gwen’s legs were shaky as he led her back into the restaurant, her face flushed, her eyes misty with delight. She sat for a while, eyes closed, relaxed, and barely noticed when the waiter brought their main course, and only slowly recovered enough to enjoy the beautiful cuisine. Richardson eyed her the whole time, but seemed disinclined towards conversation until after they had finished and the plates removed.
‘Have you ever been with a woman?’ he asked, somewhat out of the blue. ‘Have you?’
‘Um… no, sir,’ she replied hesitantly.
‘You certainly seemed interested in the shop girl – the blonde,’ he observed.
‘If anything I think she was interested in me, sir,’ she said, blushing at the idea. ‘But I don’t think I’d like to do anything like that. I’m not a lesbian.’
Richardson nodded. ‘Yes, she was,’ he agreed with her first comment. ‘But I would like to see you with another woman, despite what you may want or not.’