My ‘good life’ began when my teenaged cousin Samantha begged me to pierce her nipples.
I suppose everybody has a ‘cousin Samantha’. You know, the girl relative you played with
as a youngster, and all the uncles and aunts thought how sweet it was, you two cousins
playing together so nicely, and so quietly. What they didn’t realize was that the games
you played were mostly ‘Cowgirl and Indian Brave’, with the cowgirl getting tied up a lot.
Those games were exciting in a way that you didn’t quite understand at first and then
you did understand, and they led to ‘Doctor’, or stayed as ‘Cowgirl and Indian Brave’, but
the knots got tighter and tighter, and were tied in more and more intimate places, and
while she was helpless... Well, you’ve been there, right?
Perhaps somebody noticed how creased her dress was, or your flushed face, and decided
that you ought to go play with the boys, or it could be that one family moved. Whatever
happened, you lost touch with your ‘Samantha’.
In my case, Samantha was sent to boarding school. I grew up and went to work in my
Grandfather’s merchant bank. That was fine. I was paid too much for too little work and
got to know the back streets of Soho really well. Then things got better. Grandfather
turned his Rolls into the path of a rather large lorry. He was kind enough to have Mother
and Dad with him at the time. In one stroke, I inherited both of his houses, Dad’s City
flat, and my family’s place in Hants. There was money as well quite a lot of it.
I did what any young man in my position would have done. I took my Gold card, my
Platinum card, and a wad of traveler’s cheques, and went for a little trip. I tried some
statuesque blondes in Stockholm; a pair of anally fixated Greek nymphomaniacs on Corfu;
and a really depraved ‘older woman’ octoroon in San Francisco, and then headed East.
In Hawaii I lived for a month with a hula dancer who could crack coconuts between her
thighs, before going on to Tokyo, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Singapore and finally Thailand.
You can buy anything in Thailand. I spent fifty thousand pounds in Bangkok, where a
young ‘virgin’ goes for about fifty pence a night. I was ‘looking for myself’, you see.
Once I found what I was looking for, I returned to Hants. My education was complete. It
was time to apply what I’d learned.
I spent my first three months back preparing my ‘guest quarters’. Then I found a message
waiting on my machine. It was from my teenaged cousin Samantha. Her Dad had died some
years before. While I’d been away her Mother had followed. Samantha was alone in the world
and wanted to renew contact with her last living relative, me.
I called and offered to take her to dinner.
‘Come on Sunday, Jason, and I’ll cook for you,’ she offered. Her voice was as inviting
as a feather boa, drawn slowly across the base of my spine.
‘What time?’
‘I’ll be in and out all day. Come any time after six. The key will be over the door if
I’m not back. Just go in and make yourself at home.’
I liked the sound of that. It struck me as a very ‘intimate’ invitation, and I was
remembering a cute kid in pigtails, securely trussed up with skipping ropes, in the
attic.
I got there at five forty. No one answered my knock, so I found the key and walked in.
There was no one in the living room, but I could hear noises from Samantha’s bedroom. They
were wet sounds sharp and rhythmic and I heard panting.
I tiptoed and eased the door open. Samantha had dressed to receive me, in a dark green
velvet gown that was much too sophisticated for so young a girl. I couldn’t see much of
it. She was kneeling on her bed, facing away from me, bum high, skirts bunched around her
waist, slapping up between her legs with a plastic ruler.
A gentleman would have closed the door and made a noise. I stepped in, softly. Samantha
has a lovely bum. It was tilted up, round and firm, quivering with lust. The muscles in
her cheeks were clenching and unclenching as she got closer and closer to her orgasm. The
tight little knot of her arse was twitching. Her pussy was livid from her self abuse
livid and glistening with her juices. I knew from the way her sucked in breath was rasping
in her throat that she was very close, so I slipped my belt from its loops and cracked it
down hard across her rump.
While she was still frozen in shock, I grabbed her wrists and doubled them up between
her shoulder blades. My belt whacked down four more times, giving her bottom crimson
stripes. She squirmed, but I held her fast.
‘Jason you bastard! Let me up, damn you!’
‘You’ve grown into a nasty little slut, haven’t you?’ I taunted, whipping her bum one
more time. ‘What’s this you’ve been looking at?’ I dropped my belt on the bed and yanked
the magazines she’d had spread open from under her face. One was entitled ‘Bound to Lust’
and the other, ‘Fit to be Tied’. I’d contributed articles to both, so I knew them well.
‘Bondage magazines? Well, well! I see you haven’t changed, Samantha, just matured.’
I released her wrists. She rolled over to face me, rubbing them. There were tears on her
face.
‘You swine!’ she spat.
I picked up my belt. ‘You want more of this, or will you be civil?’
‘Civil Jason.’
‘That’s better. I should take up where we left off as kids, shouldn’t I? Would you like
to play “Cowgirl”, Samantha? Do you want me to tie you down and do things to your body
till you scream?’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Are you daring me, Samantha?’
A look came into her eyes. I’d seen that same look, in an immature version, years
before. ‘Very well, I dare you.’
‘Take that dress off.’
‘You do it, if you’re man enough.’
‘Very well.’ I flat handed her onto her back, took a double grip between her breasts, in
her ‘sweetheart’ neckline, and ripped.
‘That was an expensive dress.’
‘Really?’ I screwed the torn velvet into a ball and tossed it aside, leaving her in just
her forest green hose. The little slut made no attempt to cover herself. She just posed
there, deliberately provocative. I took my time looking her over. As a kid, she’d been
carrot haired and rangy. Now her hair was darker, almost mahogany. The ranginess had
ripened nicely. Her face was feral, with smoke green eyes, a lush mouth, and a pointed
chin. Her breasts were high and proud, so tightly packed that their skin was glossy. Her
nipples had darkened into perfect cones, stiff and pointed. Samantha’s ribcage was a pair
of arches, slender enough to show each individual rib. She had a waist that I could have
spanned with my two hands, voluptuous hips, a navel that winked cheekily, firm but slender
thighs, and stockinged legs that led to tiny, high arched feet in a pair of delicate
strappy sandals.
Her pussy’s lips pouted through a few ginger wisps, and had a ridge above that was as
long and as thick as my little finger. Samantha’s clit head was peeking at me, a glossy
pink acorn.
I’d never got as far as seeing Samantha’s sex, not when we’d been kids. Now that I saw
it, I approved. In my experience, the bigger the clit the hornier the girl. Samantha’s was
as big as any I’d seen.
‘So what do you plan to do with me?’ she asked. ‘Did you bring skipping ropes?’
I sat down on the bed and looked at the pictures she’d had her magazines open to.
She pouted. ‘You don’t need that. You’ve got me here.’
‘I was wondering what, in particular, made you pick these pictures for your
inspiration.’
She sat up and leaned on me, looking over my shoulder. ‘Don’t you find them sexy?’
‘Yes, but what’s the sexiest thing about them, to you?’
One spread showed a Dominatrix in leather boots, skirt and quarter cup bra, with a whip
raised. The other was of a Submissive, on all fours, bound wrist to ankle and with a
bottom that was criss crossed with weals. A masked man was threatening that bottom with a
branding iron.
‘Don’t you see what they have in common?’ she purred into my ear. Samantha pointed with
an almond shaped nail.
‘The nipple rings? Pierced nipples?’ I turned to her, took both of her breasts into my
hands, and squeezed until the flesh extruded between my fingers. My thumbs smoothed over
her nipples. ‘If that’s such a turn on, why haven’t you had yours done?’
‘I’m shy.’
I snorted. ‘You? Shy?’
‘Shy to go into some shop and ask for what I want.’
‘How about a friend?’
‘I haven’t had the right sort of friend.’
‘You have now.’ I released her breasts and pinched both nipples quite hard, rolling
them, deliberately hurting her.
Samantha gasped and threw her head back. ‘Would you, Jason? Would you really?’
‘Of course, but not here, not now.’
‘When? Where?’
I looked deep into her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t do that for just anyone, Samantha, and that
wouldn’t be the end of it. You realize that, don’t you? If I pierce these...’ I dug my
thumbnails into her rigid cones. ‘...it would be symbolic.’
‘Symbolic? Of what?’
‘Of my taking possession of you, Cousin. The holes in your flesh would mark you as
mine.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I’d be your Master. You’d be my slave.’
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