Bodyguard

by Laurel Aspen

  Behind us, five Slutmaids stood hypnotized in fascinated silence. The scene had been arousing, too arousing for some! They had their slutcocks out of their satin knickers and were stroking each other feverishly. I would cane them in due course for such ‘slutruttish’ behaviour in my presence.

  The ritual had brought me to my customary wetness of arousal. My throbbing cunt was now aching for the orgasmic release that I always need after such a ‘Domina High’ and power-surge engendered by a caning ritual upon the willing body of a submissive lover or Slutmaid. No caning is complete without that release and I knew that both Adelaide and Candy would soon be panting for my very personal attention! In confirmation, I felt the warm throb of Slutmaid Candy’s tumescent slutcock rub against my thigh. It was high time for ‘Afterglow’ partyplay! I would to take her now to my boudoir for Adelaide to milk that slutcock to its explosive release while I introduced Candy’s lovebutton to the pleasure of my thrusting dildo.

  A sudden question crossed my mind. “Have you been ever been buttfucked?”

  Candy looked down demurely and blushed. “No! Will it hurt?”

  I smiled at her innocence and kissed her lightly. “Not with Mistress! She will be especially tender with her sore-bottomed slutvirgin!”

  Candy knelt to my cunt and nuzzled at my moist lovelips.

  “Take me darling Mistress! Take the rest of my slutbody and deflower me! I surrender myself to your will!”

  A questing tongue flicked tentatively at my hooded pearl.

  My intended ‘Afterglow’ had suddenly taken on an unexpected new dimension.

  We were wasting good playtime! I led the two sore bottoms upstairs to my candlelit boudoir.

  Ensconced upon the satin expanse of my boudoir Ottoman we made an interesting threesome. Adelaide and I had discarded our corsets, stockings and heels which lay in a jumbled heap on the silk carpet. Candy was kneeling to suck at Adelaide’s exposed pussy, tonguefucking her pink sweetness while frigging her aroused clit. Adelaide had her head between Candy’s knees and was fondling and sucking her dangling jewels and stroking that slutcock to heated erection. I stood behind Candy contemplating her striped slutcheeks and the inviting fuckbutton that was displayed so enticingly to the eight inch long dildo strapped to my thighs, its hidden alter-dildo gripped moistly tight within me by my powerful vaginal muscles.

  Taking some lube, I applied it tenderly to Candy’s pink button. A responsive quiver racked her body and her virgin bud involuntarily opened in welcome. She squirmed to allow my probing finger to breach her virginal hole and delve deeper inside her. The slippery sucking of the Slutmaid’s anal muscles on my finger brought an anticipatory quiver of excitement to my cunt.

  I caressed the tortured heat of Candy’s delectable slutcheeks for a moment, savouring the vision of my hot stripes now glowing upon her smooth twitching globes.

  “Today, I gave you bottom pain!” I pressed my dildo’s knob to her exposed anal flower. “Now, I give you bottom pleasure!”

  I thrust my shaft to pierce Candy’s weak defences. Her lubed button offered just token resistance, submitting gratefully to a new and thrilling sensation as I pressed home. I slid slowly, inexorably, inch by inch, into her sweet sluthole’s welcoming grip, forcing my stiff strength ever deeper into her enveloping slippery tightness. She moaned contentedly, luxuriating in the feeling of fullness within her engendered by my rigid weapon. She squirmed to accommodate the rampant beast, working her anal muscles to grip and massage it on its oiled journey, while Adelaide stroked her pulsing slutcock and fondled her warm plums. Finally I felt my lovelips slapping against the heat of her bruised slutcheeks. I had taken Candy’s slutvirginity.

  I took my tawse and began to whip my Slutmaid’s splayed slutcheeks in time to my thrusting onslaught, cracking down left and right with overhand and backhand strokes to her responsive arse, stinging each already reddened cheek to an even deeper blush with the leather’s spanking kisses. Candy moaned in ecstasy, squirming excitedly to the stinging goad, her skewered slutbuns writhing to the rhythmic movement of my slapping leather and pumping thrust, her now hard slutcock facefucking Adelaide’s slurping mouth.

  I started Candy at a slow trot, sliding into the tight silken embrace of her welcoming fuckbutton, then retreating until only the dildo’s mushroom head was held in her anal grip. I quickened my thrusts, slapping her haunches, spurring her on to a canter. Finally I flashed my tawse from one crimson cheek to the other, goading her into the frenzy of a galloping buttfuck.

  “Aaah-ugh! Aaah-ugh! Aaah-ugh!”

  Candy’s panting frenzy and gasping grunts of pleasure matched the thrusting rhythm of my dildo as I pumped deep into her gut while Adelaide deepthroated her hot slutcock.

  She broke away for a moment from cunnysucking Adelaide.

  “Fuck me! Suck me! Ride me! Break me to your bridle!”

  We were each at full stretch now; my nostrils flaring in frenzied lust, as I spurred my slutmount to the ecstasy of her first thrilling bottomfuck while Adelaide bucked and writhed to Candy’s frenzied tonguing.

  “Fuck my pinkie arsehole, Mistress! Suck my juicy lollycock, Adelaide! Roast me!”

  We responded to her urgings. I fucked! Adelaide sucked!

  I dropped the tawse and dug my talons into Candy’s writhing hips, thrusting ever faster and deeper in a wild fury, punching my cuntcock to the hilt. Adelaide slurped at the slippery hardness of Candy’s pumping slutcock. Candy felt me jerk to my peaking frenzy … my heated breath upon her neck … my panting grunts … my triumphant cry … and then my hot, spurting deluge of joycum over her buttocks and Adelaide’s upturned face as I melted in the squirting joy of an explosive orgasm. It was the signal for Candy to climax, spurting her cream of orgasmic joy in hot globules of slutcum over Adelaide’s face.

  While my fuckbuddies lay totally spent, I tottered over to the wardrobe and exchanged my used dildo for Adelaide’s special favourite and returned to stimulate them both to new life. The night was young and so was I!

  Adelaide parted her legs, spreading wide her pink labia to offer her clitoral pearl to me.

  “Come, my darling Mistress! You need your Collarbaby after such an energetic night! Cum and collect your favourite pussyprize!”

  She raised her pelvis. “Here it is, waiting for you to ride me. Bitch me! Bitch your Collarslut! Fuck me, darling! Remind me why I worship you so!”

  I climbed onto her, sliding my cuntcock smoothly into her moistly welcoming hole. I pressed my lips to her open mouth, smothering her dirty talk, my tongue entwining with hers in serpentine embrace. I began to pump, thrusting our dildo deep, its thumping rhythm sending ripples of energy to my own insatiable lovehole. Adelaide squeezed her cunt muscles, gripping my weapon and massaging it with her juices as I thrust, withdrew and thrust again.

  “Oh my darling Mistress! Fuck me to oblivion! Fuck your little slaveslut!”

  She squirmed lasciviously beneath me, kneading my tits, twisting at my hard nipples, urging me on to yet another climax.

  I rode my loveslave with hard, thumping frenzy now, the alter-dildo polishing my pearl to bring me to the high peak I so desperately needed after our sensual whipping scene.

  I felt a new, more powerful climax rising as Adelaide spurred me on with her guttermouthing.

  “Fuck me, you dominating bitch! Ravish me! Cock-whip me to Elysium, you heavenly cunt-fucker. Tear my vagina! Harder! Harder!”

  I tipped over the precipice in an explosive flash of orgasmic energy. I stopped her lips in passionate kiss; sucking, tonguing, biting, clawing at her heaving breasts as the joy coursed through me for the third time. It transmitted its energy to Adelaide pinioned beneath me. She quivered, shuddered and entwined her legs around me in a vice-like grip, joining me in her own flooding orgasm. Our lovejuices mingled in pulsing union.

  I rose and discarded my dripping strap-on. It was time for us to rouse our rosy-cheeked Candy Slutbitch resting languidly beside us and educate her in the art of pearl diving. />
  Alistair’s Hobby

  by Beverly Langland

  Alistair’s locked in his bloody den again! Not that Nadine minds so much. She’s grateful he has a hobby to keep him occupied. It allows her to keep doing what she always does – whatever she likes. Truth is, their marriage hasn’t turned out quite as she expected. She thought marrying an older man the right thing to do, thought Alistair would be a guiding hand. Though she also misguidedly thought that being older he would be more sexually experienced. He wasn’t, particularly. It was her own stupid fault for playing coy right up until their wedding night. She was good at playing with men, but this time it had backfired. Alistair turned out to be a kind and gentle lover. Not her type at all. She had thought him more of a man. Man enough to keep her under control, to control her wayward tendencies, to cut her loose from her so-called friends who led her astray. Not that Nadine needs much encouragement. She is a natural flirt. Yet even Nadine senses her behaviour is getting out of hand. The neighbours are talking, don’t like how she leaves Alistair alone while she swans off for a night out with the girls. She loves him but she just can’t help herself. All those hard bodies, those young studs. Handsome studs like Paul – keen to please, keen to get inside her knickers. And Alistair makes it easy for her. He spends night after night in his workshop, has recently taken to redecorating the spare bedroom, and now calls it his den. God only knows what he’s doing in there with all the banging! Playing with trains no doubt. She’s curious but Alistair keeps the door locked.

  Well, you play with your trains, darling, and I’ll find something else to play with. Maybe Paul? Maybe tonight? Nadine tiptoes down the stairs, but Alistair surprises her in the hallway, places his hands around her waist while she’s stretching for her coat. “Off out?”

  She turns, smiles sweetly. He’s like butter in my hands. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Only that you look like a tart.”

  “Alistair! You don’t mean that?”

  “But I do!”

  Alistair holds her by her elbow, briskly marches her up the stairs into the spare room – into his den – catching her once or twice when she stumbles in her ridiculous heels. Nadine casts her eyes furtively around the dark room, looking for clues as to what Alistair expects of her, what he intends to do. There isn’t much to see – no trains, no model cars. The room reminds Nadine of a small old-fashioned gymnasium. The only items are some sort of wooden contraption to one side and a large cabinet set against the far wall. Wooden climbing bars spaced at regular intervals furnish the other walls. At least Nadine assumes they are climbing bars. Alistair walks to the cabinet, opens a drawer, withdraws what appears to be a wooden ruler. Nadine’s face drains of colour as she looks on apprehensively.

  “Hands on your head.” His voice is full of purpose now, his distinguished features set into a look of determination – hard, stony-faced. Nadine has a sudden flashback to school, of Mrs Jones, her head teacher, reprimanding, making her stand in the corner of the room while the other girls snigger. Alistair uses the exact same tone – uses a teacher’s voice. It is full of disappointment.

  “Alistair, don’t be silly.”

  “Hands on your head!” His jaw stiffens as he swipes her exposed thigh with the flat of the ruler, making her start. Nadine quickly obeys, places her manicured hands, painted fingernails uppermost, on top of her head. She feels silly standing in front of Alistair like this, but she keeps them there all the same. She has never seen her husband so angry.

  “Now, what were you saying about going out?”

  “A quick drink with the girls, that’s all.”

  Alistair studies her, walking around her slowly. He is a big man. Even in her heels, he is several inches taller. She watches, a little dazed as he fumbles with the buttons of her blouse, then, irritated with his slow progress, rips apart the folds of cloth. Nadine gasps, feels embarrassed when her breasts fall free, when he reveals she isn’t wearing a bra. He shakes his head, tuts mockingly, yet quickly has his hands on her breasts, roughly fondling them, kneading them, stretching them. “Get these pierced,” he states flatly, flicking one of Nadine’s nipples with the end of the ruler.

  “Alistair, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve had enough of your antics. I’m reining you in.”

  “But Ali, darling …”

  “Quiet!” He flicks her other nipple, then while Nadine’s breast still reverberates, he swipes viciously with the ruler. Nadine cries out in pain, looks to her husband beseechingly. Alistair doesn’t flinch. Quite the opposite – he swipes her other breast equally harshly. “Ow! Stop that.”

  “I said quiet!” Alistair strikes her breasts again, leaving two broad marks on her otherwise perfect skin. Nadine bites her lip to stifle her cry. She cannot believe what is happening, cannot believe Alistair is treating her this way. She glares at him, but for once he holds her eye. She feels his hands on her bottom, undoing the zip of her skirt, releasing the material, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air of the sparsely furnished room washes across her buttocks. “No panties?” he chides.

  “Honey, you know this skirt clings. It looks wretched with underwear.”

  “Your friends wouldn’t like that?”

  “They can be so bitchy. You know what girls are like.”

  “I know what you’re like.”

  “Darling, what’s all this about?”

  “It’s about setting boundaries.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t worry, you will. Turn around.”

  Hesitantly, Nadine obeys. Shortly after, Alistair is fondling her bottom, massaging the cheeks, rudely pushing, pulling them this way and that, as if assessing their condition, their firmness. Then, just as abruptly as before, he strikes her with the ruler. Alternating between the cheeks, first one and then the other. Three stokes on each. The pain isn’t nearly as bad as when he swiped her breasts, but it is bad enough. Bad enough to make her buttocks smart. Bad enough to bring tears to her eyes.

  “Alistair, don’t.”

  “Hurts when someone betrays your trust, doesn’t it?”

  Alistair shifts position to face her, staring into her green eyes, smiling, perhaps sensing her apprehension. “Who’s Paul?”

  Nadine blushes. “Anne’s friend,” she says quickly.

  “Not yours.”

  “No. I hardly know him.”

  “Yet his number is in your phone.”

  “I …”

  “Chest and bottom out,” he scolds.

  Nadine responds, immediately pushing her breasts out before her, arching her back to offer her bottom. She feels ridiculous in this contrived position, but it seems to please her husband – the way her position forces her breasts to stand to attention. And she is desperate to distract him, to gain time to think.

  “Good,” he coaxes, “just a little further.” He cups one of Nadine’s breasts, takes her nipple between thumb and forefinger, places his other hand on her bottom. “That’s a good girl,” he encourages her. He gently squeezes Nadine’s nipple, begins to lightly spank her buttocks as she shifts position. Without fully knowing why, Nadine strains to offer her bottom further, to push her breasts forward, coaxed somewhat by Alistair’s firm grasp on her nipple. Alistair suddenly stops spanking, runs his hands over Nadine’s body, along her back, her stomach, as a judge might with a pedigree dog as he checks for posture, for bone structure. “You’re a prize bitch, you know that?”

  Nadine is about to say something, to spit something vile and nasty in retaliation, then remembers Paul. She bites her lip. For once she keeps silent. Alistair notes her restraint, smiles. “Good girl,” he states, ruffling Nadine’s hair affectionately. Nadine is appalled how elated her husband’s praise makes her feel. She is dismayed how proud she feels having stood firm while calmly accepting his callous manhandling. Only moments before, he had been sadistically abusing her, now, for whatever reason, she adores him for it. What is wrong with her? Why isn’t she struggling? Why i
sn’t she pleading? Why isn’t she running? Most of all, why is she so excited?

  “Paul has a big prick?”

  “I wouldn’t know!”

  “But you’ve thought about it haven’t you? Perhaps sneaked a look?”

  “No!”

  “Were you meeting him tonight?” He takes both Nadine’s breasts in his hands, starts to stroke, squeeze and pinch her rather roughly, coaxing her to accept his punishment, teasing her to push herself forward into his hands. He runs one hand along her flat stomach, around to her bottom, giving the cheeks a couple of gentle slaps before sliding his hand between her legs. She is wet. The feel of his big rough hand against her naked flesh excites her further. “Nice?” he whispers.

  Nadine can do nothing but nod while Alistair continues to caress her, bringing his hand back to her breasts occasionally, squeezing them in his vice-like grip. Nadine bites her lip, fighting her humiliation as she stands submissively, allows Alistair’s hands to roam freely. She stares into his grey eyes, can clearly see his excitement. Nadine is equally as excited, knows Alistair can tell also.

  “Let’s move on,” Alistair states, breaking their locked gaze. “When did you last fuck Paul?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “But you intended to. Tonight maybe?”

  “No, I …”

  “I know when you’re lying, Nadine!” He taps Nadine’s breasts with the ruler. “Better you admit it now.”

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “Anne’s friend?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “So you did lie?”

  “I thought you might not understand.”

  “Oh, I understand – slut!”

  “Alistair, he’s just –”

  “Right, chest out, shoulders back.” He is in bossy teacher mode again. Nadine adjusts her position, her breasts bouncing obligingly as she thrusts them forwards, bracing herself for the expected onslaught. Alistair admires her for a moment, letting her strain to hold position. It is difficult for Nadine to comprehend why she is striving to please him so, when he obviously intends to make everything difficult for her. What possible motivation can she have for helping him? None, except the fire gradually building between her legs. The more she degrades herself, the hotter she seems to burn. She is already past questioning her actions. She just needs to stoke the fire!