“You’re slowly hooking me.”
So yes, I think I had 'hooked' him. I felt sure he loved me now.
Back to the driver-man and the truck...
We lagged for a red light.
“Does she titty-fuck?” The driver asked.
“She does whatever I tell her,” Sir murmured. He rubbed over my raised, round ass. “I’ve got little restraints I put on her. I haven’t had them in my car lately. I’ve got a collar and waist belt and straps for her ankles and wrists.”
“Um-hmm,” the man acknowledged throatily. He got even harder in my mouth.
I continued to suck the man as he wheeled the truck. He was going a lot faster than the posted twenty-five miles an hour, I could feel it. At least 45, maybe 50. I could just see the eyes of the little bumble-fuck cop when he pulled us over, me in my front-less dress and my head bouncing up from the seat. Yeah, that would go over real well.
I paused long enough quietly to mention to Sir the speed trap we were in. Nothing was said for several minutes. Then Sir warned the man. The truck slowed. I guessed it was just the excitement of the blowjob. Nobody wanted a ticket, especially before he came.
But now a new problem was arising. I was getting motion sick from being head-down as we drove. It always happened. I’d been 'head down' before—a number of times— and I’d almost puked. Not cool, and definitely not sexy.
I rose.
“Suck it!” The man roared.
I appealed to my Owner, “I’ll get sick, Sir.” I whispered.
“Keep your mouth on him,” he commanded. I complied.
Several minutes more and I was turning a deep phthlalo green. I rose again, risking Sir’s wrath. I didn’t want to embarrass him, but I also knew neither one of them wanted a lap full of vomit.
I raised my hands to ward off any wrath. “Please, Sir,” I begged quietly. “I will get sick.”
My Owner relented, impatiently pushing me back against the seat. He opened my thighs wide again to let the man do whatever he wanted to me as I remained in that spread position, at least not vomiting.
The man quickly took advantage of it, pushed his fingers into my clit, and massaged hard.
“She likes it up her ass,” Sir revealed to the stranger whose cock remained stiff even without my mouth on it. I watched it thumping.
“Does she?” He remarked lewdly over top of me, Sir’s property, spread wide between them. The cool, impersonal way my Owner and he exchanged observances about me in total disregard excited me unspeakably. Without further hesitation, the man shoved a finger up my inviting rectum. I sighed.
“Yeah, don’t you...” my Owner sing-songed. His voice cooed in a soothing bite. The stranger wasted no time in working my asshole harder with thumb and finger, while my Owner laid his hand on my knee in a nonchalant warning not to dare pull away.
I moaned my affirmation; yes, I did love that. Oh, god, I couldn’t lie. My body betrayed me. I was so wet and the wetness was lubricating the man’s probing, cruelly massaging fingers.
“Mmmm.” My nipples tingled. I needed them touched; I needed everything done to me. I wanted Sir in my mouth.
I dropped on Sir’s penis, it was bulging and rock hard. I felt the driver’s fingers working me, relentlessly. God, it all felt so good.
The man stroked my clit. I gasped. I had masturbated so long and cum so many times at home before and after Sir called, any touch in that area hurt. My clit was now exquisitely sensitive, and, after submitting to the will of both men stroking and rubbing me as they pleased, I was also thoroughly wet and throbbing to cum again. That fact was pitifully obvious at the moment and there was no way I could hide it. I gyrated in the seat.
“Do you want to cum?” My Owner’s voice was so tauntingly encouraging.
“Mmm-humm.” I moaned affirmation, my mouth still full of him.
“Go ahead then, touch yourself. Cum,” he cooed, teasing unmercifully.
I released a hissing sigh. Oh, I did want to cum. Badly. I raised my mouth from Sir and leaned back in the seat to accommodate myself between the two men. My Owner cocked my right leg up on the dashboard to afford a better view, and stroked the length of my black-stockinged thigh gently. He touched my black heels and squeezed. I eagerly rubbed myself in front of them, shamelessly, just like the exhibitionist that I am. That they were watching made me so much hotter.
My Owner ran a finger between the sole of my shoe and my arch, and murmured. He did so love legs and feet. He loved whipping my feet. He talked about whipping them till I couldn’t do anything but cry. He had whipped them on occasion. But, thank god, only a blessed few times. The pain is unbelievably horrendous; completely unbearable, and if ever I were to be truly punished in a way that I would never forget, that would be it. He talked of whipping my soles till they bled. He talked of tying me and whipping them until I passed out or was so hoarse from screaming that I could no longer make a sound. But he never had. I would have been crippled if he had. As it was, the few welts he had given me with the Wire and various other instruments on my feet had left me unable to walk properly for several hours.
Once he tied me to a tree in an incredible place I dubbed the 'Plateau'. Our Plateau was an isolated island, several acres across and accessible only to the occasional mountain goat...and Sir’s Mercedes.
High up a steep, rugged hillside our Plateau required a near-vertical assent to reach the thicket-covered plane bordered on all sides by a roaring expressway hundreds of feet below. To make matters worse, this forsaken spot had to be rushed upon by us barreling down the highway headlong, timing our approach between cars so no one would notice us careening off the highway and dashing straight up, utilizing all possible forward momentum. Like being shot out of a canon. As usual, I just clutched the dash and shut my eyes… tight! I only knew we were safe when the Mercedes stopped its horrid thumping and we’d not gone into a roll.
The road below was heavily traveled, even at midnight, and its constant, deafening drone made the spot literally soundproof. There was not a soul around for miles to hear me anyway and my Owner knew it. He’d chosen well, as usual.
He’d carried me naked, to a perfect tree and bound me in such a way that I was suspended entirely by waist and arms, face to tree. At this point I was still ignorant of any intentions beyond an ass whipping.
No, it wasn’t until he bent my knees up and began tying ankles tightly to waist that it dawned on me! Too late I started to panic. I had been tied to trees many times before, but never in such a position. The awful truth became crystal clear as he secured the last knot.
When, to Sir’s satisfaction I was thoroughly immobile he casually and unhurriedly removed my heels. With all my strength I violently tried to wrench free. Of course it was futile. I was trussed fast like a rabbit on a spit.
He struck down only once. The pain was so horrific I shrieked at the top of my lungs. I wailed a holy appeal so loudly to the black sky above that a shocked Sir untied me immediately, swept me off my feet, and carried me back to the Mercedes. “Let’s hope no one heard that!” He had said before quickly driving away. He whipped me soundly for my sin later, but at least not on the soles of my feet.
It was surprising that no one had heard my howl, ear piercing as it was. What he could have done to me there that night had he not relented makes me shiver to this day. Sir was looking forward to a nice prolonged discipline of his property’s feet, taking his time at something he had wanted to do for ages—truss me up like a little piglet and whip me till I was hoarse from screaming. What he did do to me there later when we returned makes me shiver as well. Oh, my god. But, that’s another chapter for another book.
Right now we’re back in the driver-man’s ambling truck.
The strange man in the red truck had withdrawn his finger and I now touched myself with abandon to the accompaniment of the man’s claw grip on my opened thigh.
“What are you?” My Owner growled.
“Your masochistic, submissive slave, Sir,” I
moaned my Prime Directive, eyelids closed.
“What can I do to you?”
“Anything that you want, Sir.”
“That’s right,” he murmured.
I was literally Sir’s own private, personal whore. Because I had deemed myself so. Because I had vowed that’s what I was. And I was. Period. Amen. World without end. I was. He could do anything to me that he wanted, including giving me to any man, or woman, of his choosing. Anytime, anywhere.
I was getting so close to cumming, and Sir knew it full well. “Stop,” Sir suddenly withdrew his dispensation.
Stop? my thoughts whimpered. Oh, goddamn! My tingling body nearly exploded even as I removed my hand. I groaned and writhed.
My Owner was merciless. “Don’t cum! If you cum I’ll whip your ass right here!” He warned. Oh, I nearly could not stop it. He had let me go too far. He knew it. He timed it that way. He was the master of timing.
“Get your mouth back on him,” Sir ordered quietly. I moaned again and dropped my mouth on the driver.
I’m sure my attending to this man was two-fold. One, I was pleasuring this stranger and so, my Owner, but at the same time as my head was down I could not identify where we were going. I knew we had come a long way. It had been about fifteen minutes since the dark parking lot and we had sped along at times, so it had to have been pretty far.
I continued to suck the man, trying my best not to get motion sick again.
At last we slowed.
I raised, but kept my eyes averted, as I knew to do. I was just lucky I wasn’t blindfolded or hooded.
We parked.
The man quickly opened his door and hopped out. Sir took a moment more; I suppose to let the man unlock the door of the building we had parked in front of.
I couldn’t resist:
“Where are we?” I asked timidly. When I received no answer I raised my eyes and stole a quick look around. I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was a warehouse. God no. A warehouse?
“I can’t go in there,” I stated dully to no one, panic overflowing. It was huge and dark and ominous to the max. I pictured hooks, block and tackle, racks, ropes, pulleys...battery cables?
My Owner stepped down from the truck and held the door in summons.
“Come on,” he droned matter-of-factly like John Wayne. He knew I had no choice.
I sat there, frozen.
A moment of this, Sir reached for me, and I stirred to life. I knew full well that he could and would simply whisk me away without another word. I chose to walk instead of the humiliation of being carried.
The yard was of gravel and dirt, hard-packed. In the quick look I saw only a tall, metal building, the front door of which was bathed in a hard circular spotlight. I followed Sir through the opened door.
Once inside I had only walked a few steps till the darkening corridor ended. Ahead, in the dimness, Sir halted and indicated for me to go first, sharp right. I followed his hand motion into a large, lowly-lit bedroom where the driver-man, already there, was pulling things out of his shirt pocket and tossing them onto a dresser, readying himself for some highly anticipated hot sex. I placidly kept my eyes down, stealing the tiniest of glances out of the corners of my eyes. With Sir pressed at my side in case I panicked and bolted, I was ushered further in.
Driver-man, who still had not been introduced to me in any way, quickly began stripping, peeling and dropping his clothes without a word. It made me think of the way nasty Cat had dropped trou at the Mansion so long before. As I stood mute, I heard the click of a lighter and saw the orange glow of Driver-man’s cigarette brighten the dark.
Sir told me to take off my dress. Docilely I obeyed, removing and letting it fall to the spot on the floor on which my eyes were cast. I still had not looked at the strange man, now so close to me, and could not have described him explicitly had my life depended on it. I knew he was slight only from his movement, and I felt he was younger than my Owner. He approached me aggressively.
Sir instructed me to get down on my knees in front of the man. It was so sudden; I had no time to think. I again opened my lips to the erect cock being presented.
The naked man stood there placidly enjoying me and casually smoking. Between puffs he let the cigarette dangle loosely in his fingers close to my shoulder. Through squinted eyes I watched as the wisps of smoke curled languidly around us. I shivered.
That cigarette.
Flash back.
Sir had placed me on my knees before him and matter-of-factly instructed me to bare my breasts. With my own hands I had to offer him my breasts, one by one—to burn. He had pressed the tip of his white-hot, glowing cigar for an instant against each inviting, dusky pink, rock-hard nipple as I obediently held each one up as a sacrifice, a gift to my god, and gasped with shock at the pain. I was not permitted to squeal. It was a singularly gratifying experience, one which he repeated shortly after on the top of my naked pussy. I was grateful he had not decided to cigar-kiss my clit; he could have, just as easily. At least one other time he had burned my tits for me. Now, just the smell of a cigar set my nipples stiffening in invitation to be a burnt offering to him.
That cigarette.
This slight man held his cigarette at bay in ignorance, standing over me, rocking to the movements of my servicing. The thoughts of the tit burning were evidentially still a secret held only by my Owner and me. I was both disappointed and greatly relieved that the man did not know.
The naked man’s body swayed easily with my mounting passion. I reveled in the fact that, unlike my Owner, I could make this man stagger with no effort at all. The Black Widow devouring her frail creature-mate in the heat of sexual frenzy.
Observing from a few yards away, my Owner finally broke the silence.
“Do you want her alone?” He asked huskily.
I did not hear the man’s answer, but Sir paced around behind his friend to recline upon the bed beside which I knelt.
“Take me in your mouth,” Sir commanded.
I rose and began unbuckling Sir’s belt. Just the feel of the thick leather was comforting beneath my fingers. It was ultimately familiar and sensuous, and my entire body throbbed to unfasten it and give him pleasure. It was entirely proper to rise from the stranger without a backward glance and attend to my one and only Master. I did so happily. The other man immediately took advantage of my upturned rump, plowing straight into my wet pussy slit and pumping with gusto.
“Cum, I want you to cum,” the smaller man coaxed. Just the words made me want to. “I like a sloppy wet pussy,” he continued.
I managed to touch my already wet-as-could-be-clit and massage. The pounding and especially my mouth on my Owner and the sounds of the hard penis going in and out of me all stimulated my climax. I shot off audibly.
“Fuck her up the ass,” my Owner directed. “She’s good when you take her in this position.”
'This position' was with me in high heels bent drastically over, the position I assumed now, servicing Sir.
I felt the skinny man pause, withdraw, and felt his body pressing against my rear. I gasped as his slippery penis thrust up my anus. Sir liked my gasps, the proof that I was being forcefully penetrated but I knew to re-focus my attention and my mouth on him. The latter was difficult because the smaller man’s movements kept pounding me forward.
The strange man reached under my body to pull my breasts from my bra and pinch my nipples in a long, squeezing, stretch. He let them snap from his fingers as I squealed and writhed, the guttural sounds reverberating against my Owner’s swollen cock. The thought jumped into my head that this man was catching on… that he might really hurt me.
“Cum again,” the man mumbled pulling my hips to him. “Cum again. I like it when you cum.”
I was concentrating on my Owner and on pleasing him. With the battering I was taking I wasn’t being effective at pleasuring him. After all, Sir was my first concern, and his languid position on the bed allowed servicing him only with the greatest of struggles. It took a lot
of energy just to maintain my balance against the throttling by this meager man. Sir knew it. I was tiring, and holding this spread-eagle position in heels while getting pitched like a boat in a hurricane was difficult, especially with my cum-weakened knees. Cumming literally made me swoon.
“She’s getting spent,” Sir murmured. He should know. This huge man exhausted his possession every time he used me; exhausted me, then continued on to string me up and whip me while I was as limp as a rag.
The little man still showed no indications of climaxing, but he withdrew at Sir’s caution. Sir raised himself from the bed.
“Lay her down and fuck her with her legs up in the air,” Sir said.
I felt Sir’s hand directing me to the bed. The man lustily followed me down. He was on top of me before I could even fully recline. He pushed me back the rest of the way. I felt his hard penis shove deep into my cunt with no hesitation. I obediently spread my legs wide holding onto my ankles.
I knew small talk was strictly forbidden, but I had to risk it. Sir was across the room fifteen or twenty feet, perhaps he wouldn’t hear. I pressed my lips to the man’s ear.
“I am not using any kind of birth control,” I whispered.
“Don’t worry about that,” he whispered back, “I can’t make any more babies.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
He sounded sure.
“I just want you to cum again,” he uttered. “Cum, I like it when the woman cums three or four times.”
But I wasn’t interested in cumming, only in the large man leaning against the door frame watching us. I could see his cigarette glow. I couldn’t make out Sir’s facial expression in the dim light, but I could tell from his body language the small talk had got me into trouble.
“I want you to cum,” I purred. I was already in trouble, now I just wanted the man to get his load off and let my Owner have his pleasure with me. “That’s the only way I know you’ve enjoyed me, when you cum.”
“I could fuck all night,” he said.
‘No you couldn’t,’ I thought, ‘not with me you couldn’t; not with my Owner standing by, waiting.’
Masochism of M: A Sexual Mémoir Page 28