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Yes, i fully accept that this opening post of my latest story is extremely short. It just sets the scene, as it were, and the following tale will answer the question posed at the end of this introduction.
HEAVEN AND HELL
There is no doubt about it the annex in which I live now is simply luxurious. Spacious, fully equipped with modern appliances, it seems to lack for nothing, at first glance that is. A fully equipped kitchen, a lovely bathroom, even an exercise gymnasium, and as for the bed, wow! Huge and soft, covered in glorious shimmering satin, with VERY secure bedposts in all four corners. And that gives a clue as to why I am here, it’s fast drawing on towards the first anniversary of my entrance into what has become my home. I have never left it since.
Yes, for all of this opulence, one undeniable fact remains, I am a prisoner here, I am here because of the will of another, not my own. This annex is one of the converted out-buildings of a large country estate, owned solely by an extremely rich middle-aged woman. Everything within it, very much including me, are purely her property. So, what does she want from me?
The answer is probably hinted at by the clothing, or lack of, that I am forced to wear, incidentally the annex has a very efficient climate control system, so I am never cold, despite my near naked condition. I’m not even permitted to adorn myself in any underpants, so that my cock is always left exposed. No, the only items that I am permitted to wear are female lingerie items, that Mistress seems to have a particular obsession with, stockings and suspenders. Quality items that are often changed for new, Mistress has no inhibitions there. Because she owns me purely for the task of feeding her enormous and extremely kinky sexual appetites. Yes, I am simply her sex slave, other than that she keeps me in total isolation, completely denied access to the world outside to an absolute degree. So, just how did I come to be held within this state of affairs?
I’ll never forget that first encounter with her, all those months ago now. How she strode into my office as if she owned the place, dressed so immaculately in all of that stunning leather that immediately attracted my attentions and desires. Right there and then, my heart was set on sexual surrendering to her, if not quite to the degree that I have been forced to have done, she ticked all of my boxes alright.
After all, there’s no point in denying it, I am a total sexual submissive. My ultimate desires are to be controlled in the bedroom, to be under the spell of a Mistress, who humiliates me totally, considering me completely beneath her, only existing to service and satisfy her whims. That is why that fact that she is considerably older than me, as I say she is comfortably within middle age, being well in her forties, whereas I have now only turned twenty-two, is no problem at all. Older women like her possess a stature, such authority and experience, that girls of my own age group simply don’t have. I don’t know, some sort of ‘Matron’ syndrome, I guess.
And if she had chosen her clothing in such a manner as to cause my sexual juices to flow, to turn me on, then it would have proven very difficult to improve upon what she wore there and then. A completely stylish and obviously very expensive leather jacket, in a very dark grey shade, literally just short of being classed as black. Together with a matching skirt that was just long enough to conceal whether the extremely sheer black nylon upon her legs was in the form of stockings or tights, although in time I would discover that this was a Lady who never wore the latter! But it was just what her lower legs were covered in that blew my mind. Long leather boots, perfectly colour matched to her suit, also featuring high heels, that ‘clonked’ deliciously on the wooden floor. Immediately filling me with a longing to be made to lick them clean, a desire that has come to pass on many an occasion since! For as much as she appeared to be my ‘dream woman,’ she was also, discreetly, checking me out to see if I was a suitable candidate to satisfy HER requirements. Very much liking just what she saw.
However, I digress, what had this woman, Mrs Amelda Louisa Gertrude McPherson, stepped into my office for? Why was she officially here? She had, in fact, very recently become a widow, her late husband being extremely wealthy, by the terms of his will all of that had become rightfully hers. Me? I was qualified as an accountant, the company that I worked for being the very one she had engaged to look after her financial affairs.
From a purely business perspective it proved to be a very productive meeting. Amelda McPherson soon establishing herself within my mind as a fully astute and intelligent Lady. One completely capable of fully understanding the nuances that I was explaining to her. Becoming absolutely comfortable with the fact that she was now a very rich, and therefore in this world, also an extremely powerful Lady. And, make no mistake, one utterly competent in order to be able to utilise that power properly.
It was a meeting that was very conducive in other ways too. For she sensed that I was totally under her spell almost immediately. So correct was she on her instincts, that she felt completely at ease to at one point deliberately lift her skirt, so as to enable me to catch a swift glimpse of the top of her stockings, and the suspender clasps attached to them. Oh, she was playing me beautifully here, be in no doubt about that. As she proved just after she had shaken my hand, the meeting at a formal end. For as she stepped through the doorway, she turned, stating, “you like my boots don’t you boy! Don’t worry you’ll be cleaning them with your tongue, and soon!” With that ‘parting shot’ she was gone leaving me almost quivering with excitement!
That night I dreamt of being naked in her bedroom, on my knees, with my arms tied behind my back, and licking those boots clean. What I didn’t know that she had started to carry almost the same image around in her head, with a few slight adjustments, ones with which I’d have been in full agreement with, just not having thought of them myself. For in her version, the one that would count of course, I wouldn’t be naked at all, like I said earlier she was almost obsessed with stockings, so my legs would be covered with just such an adornment. Complete with a sexy suspender belt to hold them up, naturally. And I’d have to perform my labours in the dark, a satin blindfold denying me the power of sight.
We had one more ‘business’ meeting to tie up all of the loose ends, at the end of which she handed me a piece of paper. With an address written upon it, her home address obviously. “I don’t know what plans you had for tonight, but they’ve just been cancelled.” Being a Friday, just sinking a few pints in my local pub, I guess. “You will report to this address at six o’clock precisely. DON’T BE LATE!” Again, just leaving me standing there, she was gone.
Now, I suppose that legally I was under no obligation to attend her home that evening, to answer what was basically a summons, not an invitation. There would have been virtually no official repercussions possible to her, if I had chosen not to attend. But be realistic, does anybody think for one moment that there was any chance of my not reporting? No, of course not!
Naturally I checked the address that she’d supplied me with on google maps, actually it wasn’t a surprise to realise that it was in fact a full estate, remember I was looking after her money on a professional basis, and therefore was fully aware of just how much she possessed. No, I just needed to know where it was, she lived, to be able to find my way there. Because I was always going to go, just as she had commanded me to. Wasn’t I?
Having showered, and dressed as lightly as I could, I had this feeling I wouldn’t need any clothes tonight, I set off, deliberately early to be sure that any traffic issues wouldn’t stop me from arriving at her home on time, I had this instinct that lateness would not be tolerated!
So determined to avoid just such a possibly was I that I ended up being far too early, of course. I parked up just out of sight of anybody within her house, and waited the twenty minutes or so, twitching with an almost nervous anticipation, excitement of just what she was going to put me through coursing through my veins. As the magic hour approached, I gingerly eased my old car into her property, being careful to park it as out of sight as I could. At almost exactly the specified time, therefore, I knocked upon the front door.
To be opened by a young footwoman, of course somebody of her wealth would have staff in order to perform the menial tasks of life. “Oh, it’s you. Madam is expecting you. Come in and follow me!” Note that there was no deference in her conversations here, she was addressing me as just an equal to her, if not even below that, not on the level of her employer, no ‘Sir’ or ‘please’ was present here. Exactly as she’d been directed to, of course. She led me into a living room, that gave the appearance of being larger than my whole rented flat, sitting upon a large chair was Amelda, or ‘Mistress’ as I have addressed her ever since.
Naturally at first, she continued to act as if I hadn’t entered the room at all, I was completely ignored as is my station in life. “Very good, Claire, now go and attend to your other duties.” It was only after the female servant had departed, leaving just Amelda and myself within the room that my presence was even acknowledged at all.
“Well, you seem to have passed my first test, slut!” If the form of address in which I was to call her had been established, so too here was the name by which she would address me. And it appeared my worry of being late to this ‘appointment’ had been fully justified. “Nice of you to be punctual and on time. Shows the correct level of respect. I’ve already been forced to dismiss several other candidates for the position of being my sex slave for their tardiness. And when asked to explain themselves proceeding to offer all sorts of unacceptable excuses, traffic levels and the like. If a person is late concerning the time that they and I had agreed upon, then it suggests that they place their own time as being far important then MINE! That will NEVER do as I’m sure that you can appreciate. Now come into the centre of the room and stand still.” And when I had complied?
I removed what clothing that I had dressed myself in, with as much haste as I could muster. Then standing still as before, awaiting my next command, which wasn’t long in forthcoming. “Remove my clothing, right down until the nylon stockings and the suspender belt that holds them up. NOW!”
She was wearing a leather suit almost identical to that which she had worn when visiting my office that day, but in delicious shade of deep cherry red, as opposed to almost black. As were the boots, again virtually colour matched to the suit. I gently relieved her of the jacket, folding it gently and placing it upon one of the beautiful chairs. Next, I undid the fastening of her skirt, which she wriggled out of herself, in a very seductive manner. So, that was her outer clothing then. Next to come off was a wonderful feeling blouse, made of the finest shimmering satin, and of a delicious scarlet hue. As were the bra underneath, together with the matching, very skimpy, panties and the stockings and suspender belt. She seemed to be quite satisfied by my efforts regarding the removal of all this apparel, leaving the stockings and suspenders in position, as I had been ordered to, of course.
“Hands behind back!” My next command. Mistress then approached bearing a set of leather cuffs, in red of course just like her suit and boots, which naturally she then used to link my wrists together. I was just a prisoner now, HER prisoner!
She then deigned to offer an explanation for her colour choices, a measure that she was under no obligation whatsoever to conduct. “Red seems to be the colour today, I must be in some sort of ‘communist’ mood,” chuckling to herself, as if that statement was an amusing joke. Being an orphan and having, unlike her, experienced extreme poverty, it was one that I completely failed to ‘get,’ but I decided to stay discreetly quiet.
It was at this point that I became aware of her obsession with stockings and suspenders, and her intentions to place my legs within some. She then gathered yet another set of these items, red of course, obviously today’s ‘colour,’ and approached me again. Placing the belt around my waist, and bloody good it felt too. Naturally it was of extremely good quality wise, being manufactured from the finest satin.
“Left foot in the air, slut!” I must admit that I was struggling a little in my balance, but Mistress didn’t seem to mind my using her body for support, as she covered my foot in sheer nylon for the very first time in its life. And when she’d covered the foot, and moved the stocking just over my ankle? “Put that foot down again and lift the other one!” So that she could repeat the process.
Thus, for the first time in my life I sampled the absolute delights of wearing stockings. God, don’t you Ladies have it SO good in life, eh? I must admit, being the way I am sexually, so submissive in nature, I had contemplated trying to put my legs into stockings before, but I’d never bothered, I guess that what I really wanted was what was happening right now, I was being PUT INTO some by a female captor. And, if I had tried some, I very much doubt that they would have been of such quality, they would have been far cheaper, and therefore courser, than the luxury items that Amelda McPherson was placing upon me. Let’s just say, it was WELL worth the wait!
Once she had covered both of my feet in sheer nylon, I could plant both firmly back on ‘terra firma’ again, regaining my balance. And I’d need all of that to cope with just what I was being subjected to now as Mistress moved them up my legs, towards the waiting suspender clasps.
Which eventually came together, as Amelda fastened them. “Oh slut, don’t you just look SO fetching now?” Probably not, I almost certainly looked completely ridiculous, but who cares? I FELT so sensual, so alive, just so turned on that I couldn’t have cared one jolt for my appearance. And just who was there to see me anyway, other than my Mistress?
She went to one of the wonderful looking sofas and sat herself down. “Now slut, I made you a promise the other week, didn’t I? One which I shall now deign to keep. I promised to award you an opportunity to clean my boots with your tongue, and that time is now. On your knees now, slut, and then make your way over here, to be kneeling right in front of your supreme Mistress! MOVE!” Naturally I obeyed instantly, who wanted this more, Amelda McPherson or me? Difficult to say, I suppose, after all, as commented on beforehand we had both dreamed of THIS moment. With some slight differences, again mentioned before.
One of which had already come to fruition of course, the sheer nylon now upon my pins, and it was now that her other desire came into play. “You shall worship my boots in the dark, slut!” Now she reached underneath a cushion and for the first time, but certainly NOT the last, I saw the blindfold that has become such a regular feature of our games since then. But it was the last thing I did see for some time, as Amelda placed it into position, covering my eyes and removing the use of them from me. My world was now completely black, even though the blindfold itself was red of course, and would remain so just as long as Mistress alone wished it to, myself having no say in the matter.
“Now, worship my boots, slut! LICK THEM CLEAN!” I hastened to obey, finding it difficult at first as I could see nothing, but managing to get the hang of it. Of course, they were already spotlessly clean, their condition in itself never being the important factor here, my humiliation of being forced to lick them the whole point of this exercise. And I was making the required effort here, putting my everything into my allotted ‘task.’ After a while, Mistress withdrew the boot I was attending to, her left, offering the other one to me if I’d been stupid enough to believe that my labours were terminated. Finally, they were just that though as Mistress declared herself satisfied, “it’s time to move this up to my bedroom. On your feet, slut, I want you on my bed!”
She made no move to remove the blindfold; I would have to find the way to her bedroom in the dark it seemed. But no, Mistress wasn’t quite that cruel. Around my neck was placed a leather, red obviously, collar with a secure ‘D’ ring at the front, to which she fastened a lead, as if taking a dog for a walk. And thus, I was guided to her boudoir, surprisingly at a reasonable pace, one I could cope with easily, including suitable verbal warnings when we encountered the stairs. I guess that she didn’t me falling and injuring myself, she obviously had other plans for me now!
Eventually we reached her bedroom, after we had entered through the door, she shut it firmly, but didn’t bother to lock it, let’s face it, the bravery required by any members of her domestic staff, all female by the way, to disturb her uninvited would have earned the Victoria Cross if it had been performed on the battlefield!
Dominated, although I couldn’t yet see it, by her large and luxurious bed naturally. My cuffs were removed, the blindfold lifted, not removed note, suggesting that she had plans to utilise it once more, and I could see the bed that I was shortly to be imprisoned to. Covered in the finest shimmering, scarlet red naturally, satin. It took a great effort on my part NOT to lick my lips; I’ve no doubt at all the Mistress would have considered such an action as most disrespectful. As she would have, naturally. To each of the four corner, very solid and secure, bedposts had been fitted with a red leather cuff set, the inner of each one open as if to invite my wrists and ankles. My bonds to be!
“GET ON THE BED! NOW!” Naturally I obeyed. In a slightly softer tone, “spread yourself out.” Once more I complied, knowing just what was coming next. Funnily enough Mistress chose to start at the foot end of her bed, dealing with my ankles before moving to the other end in order to capture my wrists by placing those in the leather rings of her cuffs. But before she did that, she had effectively fastened me inescapably to her bed, by employing little padlocks to the buckles of my ankle cuffs, meaning I couldn’t release them even if my arms had been left totally free to me, for I possessed no idea, at all, just where the key to them was.
But do any of you think for one moment that my arms would be left unfettered? Of course not. Mistress proceeded to the head end of the bed and did the ‘business’ required. Now I was her complete carnal captive, utterly helpless and totally at her whim. She could now do anything she liked to me, and there was nothing I could do to stop her! Oh, GOODY! I mean just guess how excited I was now, how fast my blood was being pumped around my body, how much under her spell I was? Her smile confirmed that she had fully clocked just how much.
Her first move was to place a small key in one of my stocking tops, thereby answering the question that has just been asked, too late for it have proved any use to me now. And next, having sat herself down on the bed right alongside me, my world turned utterly black again, as the blindfold found its way back into its correct position, over my eyes, yet again denying me any use of them.
Not only was I under her complete control, but from now on I wouldn’t be able to ‘clock’ or anticipate any move that she would make upon me. Which would make matters all the more exciting I resolved to myself. How would she start upon me?
By clamping her hand around my cock, which in itself resumed a complete ramrod, never having been so rigid in its entire existence before. Just natural really because I had never been quite so turned on, I’d basically dreamt of this moment for SO long now, I was utterly helpless, under the total control and command of a sexy woman, who was now able to treat me exactly how she chose to, with me unable to resist her will in any way, shape or form.
“THIS is now mine slut, it might well be attached to your body, but from now on it simply belongs to me, for me to use as and when I see fit. In the complete manner of my choosing.” If anything, it responded to her touch by becoming even harder, difficult to believe that was actually possible, of course. “And make NO mistake about it, it’s going to work for a living now! Its new task in life is to feed my enormous sexual appetite, in any way that I desire.”
Her intentions became immediately clear as I felt Amelda tying a short length of bondage rope around the base of my cock and my balls. Meaning there would be no climaxes for me, my cock had effectively become a living dildo. To my utter delight, of course, I was here to serve my Mistress, not to derive pleasure for myself, and if that meant no cumming for me, then so be it. Her needs must come first.
Amelda now climbed aboard, and for the very first occasion she slid her pussy over my cock. Pure heaven. “Become used to it, slut, this is just where it belongs now. Fulfilling its role in life, beginning me sexual pleasure.” Fair enough, I mean it did feel completely right at home there when all is said and done.
So, how did the night progress? Well from the screams of pure ecstasy that I was treated to for the next couple of hours or so, I’ll have to guess that, from Amelda McPherson’s point of view, very satisfactory indeed. And whilst she was busy riding my tied-up cock to sensational orgasm after orgasm, she also made full use of my orifice too. When her lips weren’t directly assaulting it, and boy did this woman know just how to kiss, my mouth was occupied by gently chewing and sucking upon a nipple belonging to her, very shapely, tits. With her making sure both of those received my attentions.
In fact, so much had she enjoyed the evening, that for the final shag of the night, she removed that tie from around my ‘tools,’ finally granting me a dose of ecstasy myself. Problem was, I was so stoked up by all of the previous denial that I didn’t last long at all, before I shot my load into Amelda McPheson’s delicious pussy, well before she was capable of achieving her own climax. Oh dear! Her punishment was this dis-respect was simple, I’d have to bring her to that beautiful state by licking her out with my tongue, thereby also cleaning her out of my unsavoury product at the same time. But she was my undisputed Mistress here, and she’d just issued me with an order. Best get on with it then. And my ‘licking’ skills proved to be more than enough to complete the task satisfactory, redeeming myself to a very large extent.
In fact, her overall enjoyment of my efforts on her behalf that evening had sealed my fate, although I possessed no knowledge of that at this point. For quite some time now Amelda McPherson had desired to own a sex slave, to keep a male purely for the task of fulfilling her extremely kinky sexual desires, to be at her ‘beck and call’ whenever she wished, with no regard to be shown to his objectives in life. To this end, she’d already converted an outbuilding to be her ‘sex annex,’ the one described right at the beginning of this tale, and my home now. Although, I wouldn’t assume residency until the morrow.
Love to be tied-up, gagged and tickled !