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Subject: {ASSM} Amazon dot cum Ch 2 by Couture (FF, MF, chastity, bdsm)
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Couture http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Couture/www/
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<1st attachment, "AMD2.txt" begin>
Amazon dot cum by Couture email: couture_writes@hotmail.com
(FF, MF, domination, chastity)
Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by
sexually explicit stories and situations.
(c) 2002 Couture
***********
"Fuck her," I said as I drove home. I wouldn't get earrings or
my nails done. It was bad enough that she pulled that shit on me
at work, but there was no way I was going to allow her to control
my private life. Then I realized that if I went home, I would
have to explain to my husband why I was home early.
I fingered the ten dollar bill. Maybe I would get my nails done.
I certainly derserved it after all I had been through, but there
was no way I was going to wear trampy big hooped earrings to work
tomorrow. No way in hell.
I was a little late getting home after I had my nails done, but
that wasn't unusual and Bill was watching TV in his boxers as
usual. A bag of potato chips and several cans of beer were on
the table next to his feet. He was home all day with nothing to
do and the house was in worse shape than when I left this
morning.
I wanted to be mad. I deserved more than this . . . especially
after what I had been through. I should cuss him out, but I
needed something. *I* needed relief.
"What's for dinner hon?" he asked, not bothering to look back at
me.
I reached beneath my skirt, shucked off my panties, then put them
to my nose and inhaled my musky aroma. God, I needed a fuck.
I strutted over to his chair, unbuttoning my blouse on the way.
"Me," I said.
I didn't even bother to take off my clothes; I just hiked up my
skirt and sat in his lap. I ground against him until he grew
hard. I fished his cock out of the fly of his drawer and he
slipped easily into my pussy and soon we were making love.
I was his wife again, not some cheap office whore. A pussy girl.
At least I was until I leaned back and raked my nails over his
chest.
It was the nails that did it. They made me think about Thandi's
demands and then about Thandi herself. I couldn't help but
imagine I was back on the floor between her legs - pleasuring
her. "Can't you do anything right?" she demanded.
I shook my head to clear the forbidden images from my mind, but I
began to doubt myself. What if Bill didn't enjoy me? Was I a
bad lover?
"Is it good for you baby? Am I doing it right?" I asked Bill.
"Oh yeah baby," he grunted. "You're doin' real good."
But he would lie, wouldn't he? Instead of Bill, I saw images of
Thandi, looking down at me, disapprovingly. Yes, he would lie.
I began to bounce harder. The sofa squeaked beneath us.
"How's that baby? Is that better?" I kissed him deeply, tasting
the beer on his breath, and tweaked his nipples through his
t-shirt.
"Oh God," he grunted. "Fuck, I'm cumming."
I milked him with my pussy, trying to get myself off. I wasn't
even close and he was rapidly growing softer. I reached beneath
me and cupped my pussy so his cum wouldn't leak out as I stood.
I walked pigeon-toed to the bathroom, looking at the clock on my
way. Two minutes had passed. Fuck.
I locked the door behind me, sat down on the toilet, spread my
legs. Sometimes, if you want something done right you have to do
it yourself. I lightly tweaked my nipples, while my other hand
traveled down to my sex. Two fingers thrust in and out of my
cum- filled pussy, while I circled my clit with my forefinger.
I wish I could say that I was thinking of Bill, but instead my
mind was on her - that coloured bitch Thandi. She was
disappointed by my masturbation technique. Was I really that
bad? Had I missed out on something when I masturbated myself?
I fluttered my manicured nails over my clit and teased my opening
with a finger, instead of my usual around the clit and in and out
method. es, that felt good. I was missing out. I got intimate
with my cunt for the next twenty minutes and experimented. It
was something I should have done ages ago.
I was sitting there, legs spread wide, one hand stretching my
pussy wide, the other lightly spanking my moist pink flesh,
sending jolts of pleasure through my body, when suddenly, my
reverie was broken by a loud knocking on the door.
"Did you fall in?" Bill said.
"No." Goddamnit, I thought to myself. "I'll be out in just a
minute." Asshole, you came, didn't you? Give me just a goddamn
minute more.
"Well hurry up. I'm hungry."
I tried to finish myself off, but the moment was broken. I took
a cold washcloth and wiped my steaming pussy. I'll be back for
you later baby, I promised my aching sex.
************
Unfortunately, later came, but my pussy didn't. I spent the rest
of the night cooking and cleaning. I went to bed early for some
*alone time*, nobody but us girls. In five minutes my husband
came to bed. His back was to me, but it was also touching me.
I tried for a few minutes. Gently moving my fingers in tiny
circles around my clit, but it is impossible to satisfy myself
without being discovered. It was difficult to sleep, I kept
thinking back to what happened with my new black boss earlier
that day. The thoughts were arousing.
I wondered what was wrong with me.
*************
The next morning I dressed and went to work. By the time I
walked through the door, my heart was pumping and my knees were
shaking with fear. The urge to pee was overwhelming, so I
stopped at the bathroom before I went to my desk.
The morning passed without mishap. I was even in a meeting with
Thandi and she ignored me, which I was glad of. Afterwards, I
sat at my desk, slightly relieved that maybe yesterday was the
end of our bizarre relationship. She did say that I didn't do a
very good job, so it was possible that she decided to make
someone else her 'Pussy girl'. I smiled at the thought, looking
around the office and wondered who it might be.
Then my phone rang. It was her.
"Tracy, please report to my office."
"Yes, ma-am," I said.
I could hear the blood pound in my ears as I hurried to her
office. Would I be fired? Or would she make me masturbate her
again? Or would she act as if nothing ever happened.
I opened her door and she was sitting there looking more than a
little impatient impatient.
"Close the door and lock it," she said. "When I ask you to
report to my office, I expect you here promptly. Is that
understood?"
"Yes, ma-am." I hurried straight here, I wanted to argue, but
bit my tongue and locked the door.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked. "You know theprocedure."
"Ma-am?"
She shook her head disapprovingly. "Shit, what an incompetent,"
she muttered. "Take off your clothes and put them on the desk,
then come over here and *report* to me." The way she said
*report*, it left little to the imagination. She pointed down at
her crotch, smirking all the while.
Oh God, she was going to make me do it again. I started to take
off my clothes.
"I don't have all day, girl," she said.
I hurriedly stripped, until I was naked, with my hands covering
the more private areas.
"Come here," she said. "Don't kneel down yet. I bought you a
present."
"Move your hands," she said.
My pussy was inches from her face. I was turned on and
humiliated beyond belief. I prayed she wouldn't discover my
aroused condition. She ignored my distress, and proceeded to put
a strange device on me. First, one hoop went around my waist and
a smooth mound went over my crotch. Another hoop went between my
legs and she fastened them all together.
The crotch piece was covered by a form fitting piece of
Styrofoam. I gasped when she removed it. The silver mound
looked just like my own, only everything was exaggerated. It was
puffy, the lips were distended, and the clit rose up from it like
a tiny cock. It was a gross perversion of the female sex, and it
cupped me and cradled me at the same time.
She grabbed a small round protuberance, and turned it.
"Now, pull it out and give it to me," she said.
I pulled out what appeared to be a key and reluctantly gave it to
her. Something inside told me things had just went to another
level, but I her eyes told me to give it to her anyway.
"What is it?" I asked.
She arched an eyebrow at me.
"What is it ma-am?" I corrected myself.
She said, "I call it our new profit sharing plan. You remember
yesterday when I said it was my job to motivate my girls. Well
this is your motivation, a chastity belt."
Oh shit, this was too much. I tugged at the device and tried to
get it off. I looked for the key, but she locked it in her
desk.
"Are you finished yet?" she asked.
"Give me the key," I demanded, grabbing at her hand. "This is
going to way too far."
"I'll give it to you when you've earned it," she laughed,
smirking at me and easily keeping the key from my grasp.
"I'll get someone to cut it off."
"I'd like to see you explain how you got it. And just look at
it," she said, her gaze traveling up and down it's very realistic
looking lips. "It's so embarrassing, isn't it? No, I don't
think you will be showing it to anyone."
Tears welled in my eyes. In my heart, I knew she was right. I
tried a different tact. Begging: "Please ma'am. Take it off. I
don't won't to do this anymore."
"Sure. But first I want some relief. I'm feeling a little tense
today."
I sank to my knees. Defeated.
"I think I will stay in my chair today," she said, raising her
hips, so that I could remove her panties.
She placed her legs over the arms of her chair and leaned back.
I proceeded to masturbate her. She smiled when she saw mynails.
"Your nails are absolutely gorgeous," she said. "Are theymine?"
"Yes ma-am." Somehow I was pleased that she noticed. Bill never
mentioned them last night.
"I love the way the color looks against my skin," she said.
It was a French manicure. The nails were the white and the pink.
They stood out, bright as neon, contrasting with her dark skin.
I teased her clit with my nail, trailed it along her slit, before
cupping her whole pussy in my hand and squeezing lightly, a move
I had discovered last night, before I was rudely interrupted.
"See," she breathed. "You are better already."
I blushed, unable to meet her eyes.
"Look at me."
I still couldn't. I stared at my fingers and at her sex.
"I said. Look at me. My eyes, not my cunt."
It was harder to do than you would think, especially, when you
are naked and kneeling between the legs of a fully clothedwoman.
I met her eyes and her gaze was penetrating. It fucked me. It
fucked me to my soul.
"That's it pussy girl. I can see you now. I can see it in your
eyes that you are going to give me a good cum this time. Aren't
you pussy girl?"
I nodded my head. My flushed cheeks burned. This was what I
dreamed of the night before, of servicing her, of her
condescending attitude and her superior stare that bored from my
eyes straight to my sex. I needed to cum so badly and now even
that had been taken from me.
"I love those soft white fingers, pussy girl. They've never been
spoiled with calluses from hard work, have they? Have they?"
She was breathing heavy. The corners of her mouth turned up -
half sly grin - half sexy pout.
"No ma'am."
"Yes, so soft . . . so tender. I bet you are soft and tender all
over."
I thought back to my first maid. She was an older colored woman.
She would massage my feet with her hard calloused hands after I
came in from the office. I tried to imagine her servicing my
pussy like I was servicing Ms. Moore's. Instead, my fantasy took
a turn for the worse and I was on my knees in front my former
maid.
I gasped and opened my eyes due to a sudden pain shooting from my
nose. Thandi held my nose between her thumb and forefinger.
"I said, look at me girl and I meant it. Look at my eyes and my
face while you work. That is how you know if you are doing a good
job, little pussy girl."
I concentrated on pleasing her again. My fingers dance and
teased, prodded and probed. Her face softened and she was right,
it provided a road map to her pleasure. A closing of the eyes,
a gasp, or a biting of the lower lip, meant to continue. Her
eyes opening to look at me meant she wanted me to do something
else. A wince meant she didn't like it and I wasn't to repeat
that again.
"You're going to make me cum you pussy. My little pussy girl.
Make me cum with your fingers. Your soft white fingers. Work
those fingers girl. Look at me, not my cunt."
God she was demanding and my hands were tired, but I continued
on. Masturbating her to the best of my ability.
Her face contorted. The veins in her neck stood out. Her
breathing grew ragged. Her hips bucked. The chair squeaked.
This is what an orgasm looks like, I thought.
"God, I'm oh-oh-I'm cumming," she announced, as she grabbed both
my ears and pulled my face into her pussy. I didn't know what to
do since my fingers couldn't reach her, so I just held still and
stared at her. Stared at her, while she used my face as some
sort of masturbation device.
Her face told the story of her orgasmic bliss. Gradually, it
grew more relaxed, the thrusting of her hips fainter, and
thankfully her grip on my ears lessened. Her eyes fluttered open
and then widened in shock to see my face trapped between her
thighs, pulled tight against her sex.
She let go of my ears and I pulled back.
"Did I hurt you, my tender girl?" she asked, rubbing my ears and
then stroking my hair.
"No," I said. "I'm alright." I kept my stare directed at her
face. It was hard, part of me wanted to look at her pussy, to
see what it looked like after all my hard work.
Her eyes hardened. "Well, what are you staring at? Clean me up
and do something with your face. It's a mess. Then, get dressed
and get back to work. Don't think for a minute that this changes
anything. I expect you to still do your job and I expect you to
do it right."
Thankless bitch.
"Yes, ma-am," I said, trying my best to keep my thoughts hidden,
as I cleaned her sex with tissues. Afterwards, I cleaned myself
and dressed. She stopped me at the door.
"Oh, and Tracy," she said as an after thought. "You did an
excellent job. I'm very pleased with your performance."
I couldn't believe she said that. I was naked, on my knees,
giving her an orgasm and she commends me like I did good work on
the Pittman project. What do you say to that? I was only doing
it because you forced me, you psycho bitch. No, I couldn't say
that. She still had the box in the corner and a pink slip with
my name on it, not to mention the key to this damned belt.
"Thank you ma-am," I muttered, my blushing face pointing to the
floor, my eyes cast up at her from underneath my bangs. I caught
myself in a bob. She did too and smiled condescendingly.
"Get me a cup of coffee when you come back and don't forget to
freshen your face."
Yes, my face. My pussy scented face. I repaired the damage to
my makeup, but I still smelled like her. I hurried to the
bathroom, washed my face and fingers, reapplied my makeup, got
her a cup of coffee, and gave it to her. She didn't even bother
to look up, just motioned with her hands, as if to say; hurry
along girl - my little pussy girl.
I returned to work, still smelling the odor of her sex in my
nostrils, and praying that no one else could. The steel chastity
belt was uncomfortable. The way it hugged my sex, kept me
aroused and always thinking about it. I found the only way to
function, was to pour myself into my work.
The day flew by. I had lunch with Ms. Moore, per her request. I
could feel the stares of my coworkers, as if I had sold them out,
by kissing up to the head bitch. I ate the salad she ordered for
me. I didn't have a say in the matter and we chatted about work.
As if we were friends and had a normal working relationship.
Afterwards, we returned to work and I threw myself into itagain.
The phone rang, I looked down to see her number, and my heart
started to pound. I picked it up.
"Yes, ma-am?"
"Report to my office at once, Tracy."
"Yes, ma-am."
I hurried to her office, my legs a blur beneath my skirt. I
opened the door, locked it, and started to disrobe.
"Leave them on," she said. "You've done a good job today Tracy,
and I'm letting you off early to run a few errands." She slid a
key ring to me and I took it.
She handed me a map and fifty dollars. "The keys are to my
house. I want you to go to the drycleaners and pick up my
clothes, and pick up a take-out meal for dinner. Chinese would
be nice. Get enough for two. Take it all to my house, you have
a map. When you get there, I want you to change clothes and get
on my treadmill. Just push start, don't touch the programming
and do it until it stops. Don't leave until I get home."
This was the second day she let me off early and co-workers were
starting to notice. I kept my eyes downcast, unable to meet
their agitated glances, praying they wouldn't see the outline of
the steel belt, encasing my pussy.
I did as she requested, and every time I got up or sat down, the
belt cupped and caressed my sex. As I rode to her house, I
realized I was hot. No, not just hot, I was desperate. I even
felt like I could have molested the young clerk at the
drycleaners. My hand snuck beneath my skirt and I tried to
circumvent the belt, but I couldn't so much as wiggle a little
finger beneath the cruel, unyielding steel. I pulled the car
over, had a little cry and then summoned the strength to begin
driving again.
By the time I arrived at her house, I had resigned myself to the
situation. A situation that couldn't last forever; I just needed
to be patient.
Her house was not quite what I imagined. For some reason I
pictured a huge mansion. It wasn't. It was even slightly
smaller than mine. I took the food and clothes in her house, and
found the outfit she wanted me to exercise in, laying on her bed.
I stripped and sat down on the bed, and instead of dressing, I
tried once again to circumvent the belt. I couldn't.
To my horror, I found that the outfit I was to wear wasn't much
of an outfit at all, only a sports bra and a thin pair of shorts
with a built in thong that left little to the imagination. I put
them on, stepped on the stairclimber, and pressed start.
It was hard work. My legs and ass burned like mad. I was
tempted several times to turn the machine down, but I hesitated
at the last moment. Her instructions were firm regarding this
matter and usually the machine seemed to sense I was about to
give up and the intensity would grow less.
The wall was one giant mirror. It was impossible not to look at
myself while I exercised. My sweat had soaked the white bra
making my pink aureoles clearly visible. The shaped mound of the
chastity belt was clearly visible through the bottoms. Even
though I knew what I was seeing was only steel, my mind seemed
drawn to the shape of a large gaping sex with a hard clit
sticking out. Seeing myself this way in the mirror only served
to stoke the flames of my increasingly frustrating need for sex.
The exercise program finally ended, and I got off and took a
shower. While I was there I tried to wiggle my soapy fingers
into the belt, but it wouldn't yield. I had to settle for
massaging my soapy breasts. It felt nice, but it did nothing to
give me release and only served to let me know just how bad a fix
I was in.
Then I remembered the keys!
I quickly dried off, wrapped the towel around me, and found her
key ring by the door. I sat down on the couch and tried every
key in hopes of opening the belt. No luck. Speaking of luck, it
was at that moment she opened the front door catching me there
red handed.
"What the hell are you doing slut?" she demanded.
"Nothing," I said, hiding the keys behind my back.
She slid the thin narrow belt from the loops of her skirt as she
approached me. "I see you need a lesson about lying *and*
disobedience."
"What are you doing?" I said, getting up from the couch and
backing away from her. She couldn't do what it looked like she
was going to do, could she?
She pursued. I fled. She grabbed the towel. Naked but for the
belt I wore, I continued to flee. She caught me in the hall,
forcing me down to the carpet and sat on my back to keep me
there.
The belt leapt out, kissing my backside painfully. I tried to
shield myself from the blows with my hands, but she held my arms
trapped between my sides and her thighs. She quickly made easy
work of me, the belt whistling in the air, punctuated by the
sound of leather on flesh, ending in my cries.
It never seemed to end. I tried to fight, but eventually just
have up, laboring for breath between sobs and clenching with each
painful blow.
Finally, I felt her getting up. I tried to push myself up.
"Don't move," she warned me. "Or I'll start over from the
beginning."
She didn't have to tell me twice. I lay there obediently, not
moving a muscle even as she stuffed something in my mouth.
"I'm tired of listening to you blubber," she said.
The taste and odor hit me. I realize what it is she's put in my
mouth. Her panties.
I spit them out.
"It looks like I need to start your obedience lesson all over
again," she says.
"No, wait," I said. "Anything but that."
She held the panties to my mouth again and I forced myself to
open.
"Ask me nicely."
Dear God, she was going to make me to ask for them. "Please," I
begged.
"Please what?"
"Please put your panties in my mouth."
"Since you insist," she said, forcing her soiled undergarment
into my mouth.
I could taste her. Worse, I had begged for it.
"It seems you have learned obedience," she said. "Now, let's
address the lying."
"Mmmmphhhh..." I cried through the panty gag.
She removed them. "Something to say?" she asked.
"Please, I-I can't take anymore on my ass," I begged crying.
She rubbed her hand over my burning bottom cheeks. I could feel
the ridges she had cut into me with the small belt. "Yes," she
said. "These have been marked pretty good. How about you take
the rest on your fat white thighs?"
"Please don't," I muttered.
"Ass or thighs," she said. "You pick."
Damned if I did, damned if I didn't. ". . . thighs." I chose.
"No," she said. "Ask me for it. And you better start showing me
respect."
Why was she doing this to me? What had I ever done to her to
deserve this? "Please ma'am," I begged. "Can I have the rest on
my thighs?"
"Sure you can my little pussy girl," she cooed, stuffing her
panties back in my mouth. "Just roll over for me and spread those
pudgy legs of yours."
I rolled over on my back and parted my legs.
"Spread them slut," she ordered. "Spread them like you do for
all those white boyfriends of yours."
My cheeks burned with humiliation. I longed to tell her I had a
husband not a bunch of boyfriends, but I couldn't due to the gag
in my mouth. Instead, I spread my legs wide, obeying her, while
she hiked up her skirt and sat down on my chest.
"I think five on each of your fat thighs should be enough for you
to learn your lesson," she said, before announcing, "Here it
comes."
She struck me with the end of the belt on the inside of one
thigh, paused a second and then hit the other. It wasn't until
she hit me the second time that the pain from the first blow
registered and when it did, it really registered. It felt like I
had been bee-stung all along the inside of my thigh. My legs
flew closed and I rubbed my thighs together trying to lessen the
pain, but only serving to rub one dark welt against the other.
"Come on whore," she said, shifting her weight on my chest. "Get
those legs apart."
It was slow work getting back in position. My body didn't want
to obey my mind, but eventually I was able to spread my shaking
and trembling legs apart.
"Wider, Tracy-girl," she said, shifting again on my chest. I
became aware of what she was doing. She was grinding against me
and getting off on this - getting off on punishing me and there
was nothing I could do about it.
I submitted to her, drawing my legs up and spreading them wide,
knees and feet spread out like a common whore.
"Two," she said, strapping my thighs with the belt on the inside
of each of my thighs.
This blow hurt even more, causing me to buck and squirm
underneath her.
"Ahhh," Thandi groaned. "Again."
I was crying and sobbing through the panty gag. My hips pumped
as the tried to dissipate the pain.
I was also turned on. My pussy quivered, desperate for
stimulation. My nipples were so hard, they hurt. I spread my
legs again. Again and again, she let my body taste her leather
belt. I could feel her wet pubes sticking to my chest as she
ground against me. She kept going, whipping the insides of my
spread thighs until I had five bright red stripes on each one.
Her hips ground against me the whole time.
At the end, I lay splayed underneath her. She idly traced one of
the welts.
"I love the way the red looks against your skin," Thandi said,
looking back over her shoulder and looking down at me. "And do
you know what else I would like to see?"
I shook my head, unable to speak for the panties in my mouth.
She spun around, straddling me now from the front. "Those pretty
white fingers working my black pussy."
This I could do. It was a task far simpler than being whipped.
My fingers entered her easily. I fucked her with shallow
thrusts, alternately bringing them out and diddling her clit.
Her head rolled to the side, before rolling down and looking down
at me with a superior grin.
I blushed, looking down, unable to meet those piercing brown
eyes. Not after what she had done to me. I was sure she would
see my murderous rage.
"Look at me, my tender little pussy girl," she cooed, tilting my
head back, and pulling the panties from my mouth.
I forced myself to meet her eyes and try not to get lost in her
power. Her pink tongue darted out of her mouth and licked her
lips. God, she looked sexy and the thought scared me to the
core.
I hate you. I chanted in my head as a mantra.
She panted, rolled her hips in a circle, and gasped. "So angry
the way you look at me little pussy girl, my white finger fucking
pussy girl."
I looked back down in fear. Afraid she would beat me again.
She tilted my head back up. "No, I like it," Thandi said. "Tell
me what you are thinking right now or I will whip those milky
white tits of yours."
I couldn't tell her; she would whip me anyway. And Jesus, she
was going to do it on my breasts.
"I hate you," I whimpered, looking back at her accusingly.
"Yes!" she cried, squeezing her nipples and running her hand down
her body. "Come on girl do my clit while you do my pussy."
I worked her pussy with both of my hands. I hated her. I wanted
to be her. I wanted my pussy playing with.
"You're my girl now," she said. "I've turned you. I've turned
you into a pussy girl. My pussy girl. How does it feel?"
"I hate you," I spat. "I hate you. I hate this. I hate the way
my ass burns. I hate the way my thighs feel. I hate the way
people at work look at me. I hate the way my pussy aches. . ."
"Oh-yes, I love it. Ugh-here-it-comes."
"I hate you. I hate watching you orgasm. I hate. . ."
Her hips bucked lewdly, displaying her carnal desires. As if to
say, look at me orgasm, don't you wish you could? And I did. I
wished more than anything to be sweating and humping inpleasure.
Ah-ah-ugh-fuck-fuck-I'm-cumming," she cried, before collapsing on
my face and smothering my tirade with her sex and thighs.
I hated her. I hated her and I wanted to be her. I wanted an
orgasm. I wanted to . . . taste her.
She got off of me and to my disbelief, looped the belt around my
neck and pulled me to the couch as if I were some sort of animal.
"Mmmm-you tossed me off good that time," she said, running her
fingers through my hair.
I wanted to say fuck you bitch, let me up, I'm not a goddamn dog.
Instead I said, "Thanks. Can I go please?"
"Not yet. I think you deserve a treat," she said. She pulled a
gift box out of her purse and handed it to me.
I sat kneeling in front of her, with my hands covering my
breasts, staring at the package as if it might blow up.
"Go on. Take it." Her voice left no room for discussion.
Reluctantly, I took my hands from my breasts and opened the
package. I gasped at the first hint of glitter. It was a large
gold bracelet and very nicely made and a pair of earring. There
was a golden cats dangling from the bracelet, and it had jeweled
eyes. The clasp was held together by a fairly large golden lock.
The earrings were hoops, with identical cats in the loops.
"I-I don't know what to say," I said.
"Say thank you Miss Moore."
"Thank you Miss Moore."
"Here, let me put it on you," Thandi said, pulling her gold
necklace from between her breasts. On the end of the chain was a
gold key which she used to unlock the clasp on the bracelet. I
knew at that moment it was the key to my chastity as well.
"You like?" she said, dangling the key in front of my eyes.
"Please, ma'am" I begged. "Unlock me."
"You have to earn it first."
God, how I needed that key. "How?" I asked.
She replaced the key between her breasts and closed the lock shut
on my bracelet. Then she held my arm up to the light and flicked
the cat so that it rocked back and forth.
"It's a pussy," she said. "And you are my pussy girl. If you
want to get your little belt off, all you have to do is keep
doing what you are doing. I want you to toss me off ten times.
For each time, I will give you a new pussy for your bracelet.
Once you have ten little pussies, I will unlock you."
"Only ten times," I said. "Do the ones today count?"
"Just the one tonight. It has to be a good one. Not like that
shit from today or yesterday."
"Please," I gasped, running my hands down my body and pushing
against the chastity belt. "Just for tonight. I need it. It's
been too long." I was telling her more than I meant to.
"And I *want* you needing it. With great motivation comes great
results, and I want you supremely motivated," she said
laughingly, as she took off my earrings and put on the large
hoops.
"But-but," I sputtered.
She stood up, holding the end of my makeshift leash slung above
her shoulder, and walked to the kitchen. I did my best to
shuffle along behind her without bumping into her. I felt so
naked, so vulnerable, even more so by the fact that she was still
dressed in her business clothes.
Thandi opened the take-out trays and inhaled deeply. "Mmmmm,"
she said, doling herself a plate of food. When she was done, she
placed the rest into two containers.
"There should be enough left for you and your husband," she said.
To my disbelief, she snorted and then spat into one of the
containers and stirred it in. "This one is for your husband,
okay?"
She couldn't expect me to serve him that, could she?
"Okay," she said, jerking on the belt and causing it to tighten
around my neck.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered.
"Good," she said, removing the belt from my neck and giving one
of the large earrings small thump. "Get dressed and go home. Be
sure to wear my gifts tomorrow."
********
Afterwards, I drove home. I was an emotional wreck. I had been
whipped, humiliated, and treated like a slave. Making matters
worse, I was turned no beyond belief. I wanted more, I wanted
lots more, but most of all, I wanted to cum.
*********************
When I got home, the first words out of my husband's mouth were,
"Geez, you're late. I'm about to starve."
"Don't worry, I brought home Chinese," I said with a grin. This
was going to be easier than I thought. "Oh, and don't bother
getting up. I'll fix your plate."
"Asshole," I muttered under my breath, as I went to the kitchen.
If he only had an idea of how much I had endured to provide for
us, he wouldn't take me for granted like he did. I fixed him a
plate of food and for spite, I spit in his food as well and
stirred it in.
I returned to the living room with our plates, got us each a
beer, and sat down to eat. He was watching football as usual.
"Do you think we could watch something else," I asked.
"Sure," he said. "Just let me watch the rest of this game.
There's only ten minutes left."
I felt a lttle guilty as he ate his spit-laden food, but twenty
minutes later and the game still on, I wished I had tossed in
some dirt as well.
Finally, it was over and we watched the news.
"There's something different about you," Bill said, looking at me
critically. "But I can't quite put my finger on it."
My face burned in shame. Maybe he recognized the fact that I was
now a 'pussy-girl' for my boss. I carried so many of her marks
on me now, there was no way I could volunteer anything to him. I
sat dreading what he noticed.
"Your earrings," he said. "They're new aren't they? Honey, you
know you can't afford to waste our money like that."
"They're old," I said, and after a sudden inspiration, decided to
put him on the defensive. "I'm wearing them because I can't
afford to buy any new ones."
"Well, they look good on you," he said.
The fact that he even noticed them, much less liked them, let me
know just how garish and outlandish they looked on me.
"Thanks," I replied, standing up and picking up our plates in the
process. I smiled with the knowledge of what he had eaten. "At
least pick up your shoes and socks while I clean up."
For the rest of the night, I cleaned the house, took a cold
shower to ease the need in my body, and went to bed.
I was awakened to the sensation of someone caressing my pajama
covered bottom. I responded, pushing my ass back to make myself
more available.
The belt! I realized with a start, catching his hand and moving
away from my husband.
"Leave me alone," I said. "I was asleep."
I laid there, aroused and unable to go to sleep, but holding
still and praying he would.
He didn't. His hand returned to my bottom. I couldn't afford to
let him discover the chastity belt. How could I explain that?
I sighed, ducking under the covers and making my way to his
crotch. He was already partially hard. I tongued the head of
his cock, covered my teeth with my lips and sucked it into my
mouth. I moved up and down on the head, until he was fully
erect. With one hand moving up and down his cock with a twisting
motion, while fondling his balls with the other, I bobbed my head
up and down on his hard cock.
I could hear him mutter something to the effect of, "Oh shit. Oh
Jesus," while he pushed up and down on my head, however, I was
too busy taking a personal inventory to pay it much mind. Yes,
judging by my painfully hard nipples and my aching pussy, I was
pleased to note that I was aroused and still thankfullystraight.
There was only one small problem: I wasn't as aroused as I had
been with Thandi.
I suppose it could have been that she held the key to unlock the
chastity belt and no matter what Bill did tonight, there was no
way he could bring me off.
Speaking of bringing off, Bill grabbed my head and tried to shove
his prick down my throat. Luckily, my hand was wrapped around
the base. It stopped the progress of his prick, but did nothing
to stop his bitter cum from spurting in my mouth.
I guess that makes me a pussy girl and a dick girl; my existence
solely to please other people, without any regard to my own
pleasure.
I milked him until he was spent, then got up, went to the
bathroom, spit his sperm into a tissue and flushed it down the
toilet. I washed my mouth out with mouthwash, spit it out, and
looked in the mirror. My eyes were haunted and hungry withneed.
I locked the bathroom door and took off my clothes. My nipples
were painfully tight, my chest flushed, and my pussy . . . I bet
my pussy look just as aroused and open as the one molded into the
surface of the metal belt covering it. Red streaks covered the
inside of my thighs and only one thought screamed in my mind.
I MUST CUM!
I covered my abdomen with baby oil as lubrication and tried to
sneak a finger in. Nothing. I tried pushing a cue-tip through
the pee-hole. Nada. I tried pushing the cue- tip through the
top. Nothing worked. Even when I could circumvent the belt, I
couldn't get enough movement in order to get off.
Using my baby-oil coated fingers, I even tried finger-fucking my
ass, but the goddamn manicure prevented me from doing so. In the
end, I played with my nipples and listened to the lock on the
bracelet clack against my metal prison, as I fucked myself in the
ass with a lipstick tube. The only thing I succeeded in was
making myself even more horny and frustrated than before.
I cried briefly. Took another cold shower and went back to bed,
trying uselessly to sleep.
Goddamn her. Goddamn that coloured bitch.
*********** <1st attachment end>
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