by JJ Argus
I felt his thumb rubbing against my small back passage, then pushing against it.
“Wear a butt-pug from now on,” he said, “in case I want to make use of your lovely little ass. I”ll find something for your buttery pussy, too. I wouldn't want you to get bored when you were doing merely office type work for me.”
His hips thrust harder and faster for some seconds, then he eased back, keeping just the head inside as I gasped weakly. Another sting of pain ripped into the swirling, churning heat as he slapped my bottom once again.
“Keep those legs straight and apart,” he ordered. “Bottom high and well-presented.”
Another slap and I gasped and twisted against his hold on my hair.
“No rebellious attitudes, young lady, or there'll be disciplinary measures taken.”
I moaned as he sank himself into me again and fought my shaky knees to keep my legs straight and locked. His cock felt incredible as it drove into me, my insides burning and thrumming with sensation as the whole outrageous nature of what I was doing, of what he was doing, turned my insides to hot steam.
And then he stopped, just like that, ground himself against me, and pulled free.
He had come, and he released my hair, did up his zipper and sat down again as calmly as can be, while I slowly, gasping, feeling a sense of disbelief, straightened up.
“Don't worry,” he said, picking up the paper. “Our organization strongly believes in job training and mentoring. You'll be instructed in raising your skill level.”
I was almost trembling with the wild charge of sexual excitement inside me, but as I straightened and my skirt slid back down there didn't seem to be anything to do but to sit down before my rubbery legs dropped me on my ass.
“I tend to go in late and work late” he said, hardly looking at me. “That means in the morning, you can do other tasks and help upgrade your skills.
I just looked at him, somewhat dazed, and still out of breath.
“We'll be flying to Rome tomorrow. I have business there. After that we're off to Cairo. Jeremy has been looking after things. Go and see him and he'll instruct you in what you need to know.”
* * *
Making travel arrangements proved to be fairly simple. He traveled constantly, and stayed in the same hotels. Jeremy had a list, so it was just a matter of calling whichever hotel in whichever city it was he was going to. Likewise, he had a list of preferred restaurants, and meals, as well as the sorts of services “Sir” wanted whenever he traveled. The reservations were to always be in the name of Mr. Jones because Sir didn't want anyone to know where he was staying.
Nor would Jeremy tell me his name. He just smirked when I asked, and I was too bashful and embarrassed at being forced to talk to him after my most recent humiliation to really press.
A hundred thousand a year, I told myself. Plus I got to live in places like this!
There was a huge indoor pool and, having no suit, I swam naked, then returned to my room. On the bed were three objects. One was an enema bag, one was a butt-plug, and the other turned out to be a sort of vibrator. There was a note which said I was to use the first every morning, then insert the second.
The third was to be worn at all times. It turned out to be a sort of clip vibrator. That is, consisted of two narrow arms, each little thicker than a thumb, attached at one end by a spring clip. One arm slid into my pussy, about three inches. The second pressed against my lower abdomen just above my pussy. The pressure of the clip held it in place.
I mulled them over for some time, alternately indignant and angry, and darkly aroused.
The phone on the bedside rang, and I picked it up.
“Hello?” I asked warily.
It was Jeremy.
“You have an appointment at Madam Soisson's salon,” he said. “I shall have the car waiting downstairs.”
“But – .”
He hung up, and I frowned unhappily, then quickly dressed and hurried downstairs.
“Who is Madam Soisson's?” I asked when I found him out in the limousine.
He nodded for me to get in the back and didn't reply.
The drive was in silence, until I found the stereo, then the TV. I have to say, traveling like that, in the big stretch limo, well, I told myself I could get used to it. We drove down into the town and pulled up before what was clearly an expensive spa. I got out and looked at Jeremy.
“Uhm, who is the appointment for? I mean, what name...”
“Fire,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, turned and went in.
They did indeed have an appointment for me. It was to be the first session in laser hair removal. All hair from my hips to my ankles was to be removed permanently. Now I kept myself well shaved to begin with, so it wasn't that I particularly wanted hair. But I again felt a sense of breathlessness at how outrageously arrogant was the man who would make such an appointment without even asking me, without even telling me! He simply assumed I would do it!
Of course, he was right. I loathed shaving my legs, and to get them permanently hair free, well, yes, it would be a little painful, but it would spare me a lifetime of shaving or waxing, so was well worth it. Especially since I wasn't paying for it! Getting my pussy done would be embarrassing, but I would cope.
It, too, would be worth it.
Chapter Four
Rome was gorgeous. And we traveled there by private jet! No economy class train travel for Sir! The interior of the plain was luxurious, much like an extended version of the limousine. And I joined the mile high club, giving him another blow job, and then riding his cock on the way down there.
I was starting to get wary about all the sex. I mean, don't get me wrong. I loved sex, and he was good at it, but was this what I was being paid for? Because I had no intention of being someone's kept whore, even if it was for a high salary. I wasn't a prostitute, after all!
Once we got there, though, Jeremy kept me busy, as I had to follow him and take notes on everything he was doing. It turned out to be a lot. Sir didn't want to be bothered with any of the routine stuff that the rest of us deal with in life. Everything that could be done for him, was to be done for him. Doors were to be held for him. Elevator buttons would be pressed. Phone calls made and taken. Lunches arranged to be served the moment he sat down. Drinks were to be ordered. Music was to be made ready; soft classic rock music (gag).
I met Yvonne for the first time. She was a tall, forbidding looking black woman, and when I say black I mean very, very dark. She took notes at his business meetings, and instructed me to do likewise. Afterward, she pointed out how much I'd screwed up, and showed me what I should have been taking notes of, the kinds of things Sir wanted to be used to refresh his memory at a later time.
But here's the thing. She probably wasn't sitting there with no panties, with a big butt-plug stuffed up her ass, and with that clip vibrator thing inside her – and outside her. It turned out it was remote operated, for Sir could start it at any time. When he did, the thing buzzed very distinctly against my clit. It was a low-level buzzing, a low level vibration, but it was right against my clit, and pressing it back against the one inside me which was kind of jammed up against my G-spot.
It made me wet, and made it hard to concentrate. It also made me nervous, fearful someone else could hear it. So yes, I was squirming a bit, and finding it hard to focus my attention. But I didn't feel that was entirely my fault!
The hotel room, by the way, was a penthouse suite. It was enormous, and included a pool and a balcony large enough to hold a party for a hundred people on. However, the dining room, while gorgeous, had no food in it, because it, turned out, that as well as ordering the food prepared for you, you have to arrange to have it delivered to your suite. I had presumed that went without saying, but it turned out Italians needed such things explained to them.
Sir wasn't happy at not having his food ready, and glowered at me.
It took about twenty minutes to have it delivered and set up by the hotel staff, so I
didn't consider it much of a crisis, and besides, I was still learning.
I did get to eat the same food, though, at that gorgeous table., while a waiter in a tuxedo brought and removed dishes and drinks. I let myself pretend I was rich, and living with Sir.
After he'd removed everything, though, Sir turned to me and said. “Go and brush your teeth, Fire, and then come out to the balcony. Don't bring your clothes with you.”
I gaped at him a bit, but he got up and left the room, and, feeling a hot little thrum of excitement, I ignored my indignation as I went to the room assigned me, brushed my teeth in the en-suite bathroom, then, a little pensive, stripped. I was a little breathless with anticipation as I walked naked through the suite. I still had the butt plug on, and the vibrator thing, and was anxious about what he intended.
I'd never really been one for anal sex, but after having that plug in me all day I was starting to thing I wanted to try it.
I found him out on the balcony by the pool. There was an elegant wrought iron table there, with a huge golden bowl of assorted fruits and vegetables on it. He sat beside it, on a padded iron chair, looking like a king on his throne. He was wearing a bathing suit, and I let myself admire his firm, athletic body as I self-consciously walked over to him.
“Kneel,” he said quite casually.
I bit my tongue and sank to my knees before him.
“Turn around.”
Again I obeyed, a bit wonderingly.
“Cross your wrists behind your back.”
I put my arms back warily, turning my head around to look and see him produce a black rope about two feet long. I gasped a bit but didn't pull away as he crossed my wrists, then wrapped the soft thin rope around them and bound them tightly behind my back.
“Turn around. I'm going to instruct you in how I want my oral sex,” he said.
I turned slowly, awkwardly, gingerly testing the rope around my wrists and finding it firm and tight.
“You don't like my blow jobs?” I demanded.
He frowned at me. “Oral sex,” he said. “Don't say blowjobs.”
“I never had any complaints before,” I said indignantly.
In fact, I had had my tongue pierced a year earlier because I'd heard it was especially pleasurable for men, and as I told him, no one had ever done less than compliment me on my skill and enthusiasm.
“No doubt you had less experienced, less discerning recipients. You should thank me, girl. I'm going to make you very, very good at oral sex. No doubt your future boyfriends will be delighted.”
He slipped off his shorts and I stared at his cock, realizing for the first time that he had no pubic hair. I guessed he'd been to a spa to have it removed, as well, and marveled a bit at that, since few men do it, and especially few men over thirty.
“Why did you tie me up?” I asked
“Because I like the image of a pretty girl tied up,” he said, “Besides, this is oral sex. You'll focus more on oral skills if you can't use your hands.”
He produced a thin, Y-shaped golden chain and dangled it before me.
“This will be instructive, as well,” he said with an amused grin.
He leaned forward, cupping and fondling my breasts, and I felt my nipples throbbing in response. Being naked, my wrists tied up, well, it was hot outside, but I was much hotter inside. I watched him, watched his fingers, felt my chest tightening and he plucked and pinched and rubbed and rolled my nipples until they were swollen and aching. Then he took the end of the chain and there was a loop there. He slipped my nipple through the little loop, then tugged it tight.
It hurt! I yelped and twisted back until he ordered me still, my nipple burning as the loop squeezed in harshly around the tender little button. But it began to ease, though never stopped throbbing. Then he slipped another loop over my other nipple. It ached too, but he now had a sort of leash attached to my nipples, and he used it, tugging me forward between his thighs.
For the next hour he put on a clinic of sorts, instructing me in exactly how he liked his oral sex. He guided me in against his balls, so I could suck them gently, massage them inside my mouth, kiss and lick them, and then slide my tongue in under his scrotum to like the very underside of his cock.
The vibrator kept buzzing, and his hands often roamed my body, caressing and kneading my breasts and stroking along my ribs and back and shoulders. He used the chain not only to pull me forward and keep me there, but to reinforce his points. Every time I failed to apply just the right amount of suction or lick just as hard as he wanted he'd give the chain a sharp tug, which made my nipples burn, as he corrected me.
With my wrists tied behind my back there was nothing I could do about it either. He also often pulled on my hair, especially when he was forcing my lips all the way down to the base of his shaft. My nipples were soon throbbing painfully, and every tug made me yelp, even if my mouth was full. But here's the thing, I was feeling so helpless, and being tied up was so kinky, that I was incredibly aroused throughout.
And usually, giving oral sex is not that arousing to me. This time, though, I was really hot, and every time he made me stop so he could further instruct me I was reluctant. I wanted that cock deep in my throat! Or better yet, deep in my pussy! And all I got was the pressure of that slender thing up inside me, and the buzzing against my clit. They made me incredibly hot, especially given how wild and kinky this was, and frazzled my mind, but weren't quite enough to push me over the edge. That meant I was super hot and kept that way, gasping and moaning in heat even as my nipples jerked me forward or he pulled on my hair or shoved my head down.
I was amazed he was able to keep his cock hard for so long, even with him constantly stopping me to explain things, and letting his cock relax while he did so. Of course, I'd been aroused most of the day, so by then, and with the kinky bondage and nudity and sex, well, I was incredibly turned on! His treating it like it was some sort of clinical exercise in training was actually making it even more of a dark thrill because of how outrageous that idea was.
He was so unemotional about it, you see, as if he were showing me how to use a word processor or a Cuisinart!
He stopped, at one point, pulling me back by the hair. He was wasn't emotional now, though. His face was flushed and his voice strained, and I knew he was fighting not to come even as he pulled my head up and back by the hair and made my body twist and writhe. He held me at arms length for long, breathless seconds, then yanked me forward so that I cried out in pain. He pulled me, not into his lap but up across it, then slapped my bottom sharply.
His fingers pried at the butt plug, and I groaned as I felt the thickness of it pushing against my sphincter, then pushing out, spreading my wrinkled back opening apart as it slid through. He pushed it back inside, then pulled it back again, and I moaned as my hips ground helplessly back at him.
He chuckled throatily, then.
“Do you want to come, you horny little slut?” he growled.
“Yes!” I gasped breathlessly. “Yes, sir!”
“Beg for it, slut!”
“Please make me come, sir!” I moaned.
“You don't deserve to come yet, you nasty little slut.”
He shoved the butt-plug back in then gripped the vibrator and pulled it completely free. I moaned as the vibrations finally ceased, for weak as they were, they'd been driving me to distraction for hours. But now I felt his fingers inside me, spreading me open, two, three fingers, pumping in and out.
Crack! His hand slapped down against my buttocks with stinging force.
“Nasty little slut,” he purred.
Crack! His hand slapped me again as his fingers pulled free. Then something else pushed against me and I felt the lips of my sex forced inward, then spread open as a long, thick, cylindrical object was pushed into my belly. It was cool, at first, and sick with something. He pumped it in and out, then drove it even deeper. I had no idea what it was, some sort of dildo, I figured. A thick one. A long one!
God! I was feeling so fuck
ing hot! I rolled my hips like a wanton whore, gulping in air as he slapped my ass and then pulled whatever it was back and out. It pushed against me again, and this time it seemed thicker. I tried to turn my head around, to see what it was, but my upper chest was hanging over the edge of the chair he was seated in and I couldn't raise my head enough to see. He slapped my ass again, and I squealed, then gasped as the thing pushed into me.
It was thick! It was way thicker than what he had first used! I felt myself stretching like never before, and moaned a complaint even as I writhed and twisted in helpless heat. My wrists tugged and pulled against the rope, and there was something wildly thrilling about how secure it was, at how helpless I was in his hands.
I felt him shoving the thing deep, deep, achingly deep, gloriously deep inside me! It was so deep I felt the pressure against the back wall of my sex deep inside, and my pussy lips strained painfully, but wonderfully wide.
Crack! He slapped my ass again.
“Are you a bad girl?” he growled.
“Y-Yes!” I gasped. “I'm a bad girl, sir!”
Crack!
I moaned, and then shuddered as he pulled the butt-plug free, then pushed something else against me; something thicker, something thick and long. I moaned as it slid in and out slickly, gasped and cried out as he pushed it ever deeper, filling me to overflowing. I had never been so aroused for so long, and could hardly think straight, even as he yanked on my hair and lifted my upper body up and back again, sliding me off him and onto my knees before him once more.
I jerked my eyes down in a the brief moment when my hair was free, and saw the thick, rounded green body of one of the cucumber sticking out of my pussy. I was stunned at the size of it, at the realization he'd forced that huge cucumber up deep into my pussy! And I knew that the thing in my ass was another cucumber. I was dazed, thunderstruck, and outraged.
And I almost came. If I could have just squeezed my thighs together I would have exploded. But in that instant he yanked forward on the chain, hard. My nipples screamed. I screamed, and as I was jerked forward he grabbed my tangled red hair and forced my mouth down onto his hard, steely cock.