Sara was dressed as he had specified - a black pencil skirt with a rear split, black
blouse, seamed stockings, black heels. He watched her legs as she swung them out of the
car, hoping to see a titillating accidental flash of thigh, but there was none. As soon as
she was out of the car, before a word was spoken, he had taken the envelope from her,
taken a ball gag from his pocket and held it to her mouth. She looked surprised, but
opened up and accepted the rubber ball between her teeth, Paul moving behind her to fasten
the strap. He led her to the rear of his car, already having planned his first move.
Behind the 4WD he’d placed a wooden palette, which he had her step up on so she was facing
the rear of the car. He pulled her right hand upwards, toward the rails which ran the
length of the vehicle’s roof. He’d already put ropes on each of them, so it was a matter
of seconds to tie her wrist, following quickly with her left, leaving her body resting
against the slight slope of the car’s rear.
Another rope passed through the palette was quickly attached to her ankles, pulling them
wide apart, forcing the split in the skirt to part and ride up her thighs until the tops
of her stockings and the tiny black strip of material of her thong fell to his greedy
eyes. She guessed he was going to start their weekend with a beating, which she was
expecting, just not quite so soon. He completed the job of her exposure by pulling the
skirt up over her waist and tucking it into the waistband of her suspender belt, before
going to the bench and picking up the flogger he’d chosen to use on her for this first
session.
Then he set about whipping her, mechanically and apparently without concern for her
well-being. Sara was used to such treatment from Damien, but this was the first time she’d
been punished by anyone else. She flinched and yelped through the gag as he just kept at
it, not resting or pausing in his treatment of her, always concentrating on her buttocks
until she was sure she must be bright red. She had to admire the way he’d done this -
she’d been worried about how they’d break the ice and get started, even to the extent of
fantasising about it with Damien and they’d theorised that Paul would be the perfect
gentleman, would sit her down and explain things, would give her a glass of wine to put
her at her ease. Yet here he was, systematically applying the flogger to her bare skin,
without having said a single word. Through the discomfort, Sara smiled to herself.
He must have kept at her for about ten minutes, not letting up for a moment. Then he
threw aside the flogger and was unfastening the gag, telling her about the scoring sheet
in the envelope and the challenge, that before the weekend was over he was going to try to
persuade her to swallow his semen. She replied she doubted she could and never had for
Damien.
“You’re OK with anal, though?” Paul asked, his voice tight in his throat.
Sara nodded before she thought it through, adding, “Can you use some lubricant,
please?”
Paul told her he would and refitted the ball gag. He moved over to the bench and
squeezed a generous portion of KY onto his fingers, returning to behind her and pulling
her thong to one side so he could liberally lubricate her back passage.
“I’ve never done this before, Sara. Always wanted to, but Laura won’t and my first wife
didn’t want it either, so I intend to enjoy this. I don’t know what it does for you, but
you are forbidden to orgasm until I say so, which won’t be till later on tonight.”
Paul was as excited as he could ever remember, unfastening his trousers until his
erection pointed the way it wanted to go. He used the difference in their heights caused
by her position on the palette to press the head of his cock to her, feeling it slide
along her crack. Sara braced herself as Paul took hold of his cock in his right hand and
eased himself inside her. There was resistance at first as she tried to relax, then, as he
pressed harder, he slid smoothly all the way in.
“God, that feels fantastic,” he told her. “So tight and smooth.”
Then he started to thrust in and out of her, unzipping the dress and unfastening her bra
so he could get at her breasts. It really did feel so good, he thought, and whereas he
never usually had trouble controlling his orgasm, he knew this would be quick - the
combination of the tightness, the forbidden-ness and having a different partner, his to
use for the weekend, was just too much.
Less than three minutes after he’d entered her, Paul came deep inside her, gasping out
his climax and shaking with pleasure. He didn’t pull out of her at first, content to stay
there and enjoy his occupation of her. Then, when he was ready, he reached up and untied
her hands, still buried to the hilt within her. She felt a mixture of relief and loss when
he pulled out of her and crouched to unfasten her feet. Her dress and bra had fallen down
at the front, but he’d seen her breasts before and no doubt would see a lot more this
weekend, so she left it where it was, but Paul had other ideas, instructing her to take
them off and leave them in her car. While she was doing that he was fetching more items
from the bench and was soon fitting her with padlocked anklets, wrist shackles and a metal
collar, all joined together by chains. He finished off by fitting her nipples with clamps
and attaching their chain to the one which ran down between her breasts before it divided
to join her wrists, then ran on to the anklets. She assumed the chains and cuffs usually
adorned Laura’s limbs and body. They made her feel like a slave girl going to market to be
sold, a regular fantasy she had with Damien. When she was able to talk again, she would
ask Paul where they could get some the same. Paul fixed the end of a dog leash to her
collar and led her to the side door of the garage and into the house.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Sara nodded. He led her into the kitchen and tied the end of the leash to a high
cupboard door handle, leaving her to stand there while he prepared some food. It was
already made, with salads and cold meats on plates in the fridge, each covered with
cling-film. Laura’s work, Sara guessed. It must have been weird, she thought, preparing
food for your husband and another woman, knowing what he would be doing to her while she
herself was under the control of another. Paul busied himself taking the food through to
the dining room as Sara watched. When he brought a bottle of chilled white wine from the
fridge, he came in front of her and pressed it firmly between her legs, making her recoil
from the cold. She had a horrible feeling he was going to push it into her, but he
didn’t.
When the meal was set he unfastened the leash from the cupboard and walked her through
to the dining room, making her sit on the floor next to his chair and tying the leash to
the table leg, not tightly, but so that she couldn’t move her neck more than six inches in
any direction. After unfastening the gag, he fed her with his own fork, making it fun,
finally moving to the floor to sit with her, dropping occasional morsels of food onto her
breasts and dipping his head to lick them off. She was surprised, too, just how sensuous a
kisser he was. The differences in their ages ceased to matter to Sara, it was easier just
to close her eyes and let him have control.
After the meal he unfastened the leash again and led her to the settee in the lounge,
again having her kneel, this time attaching the end of the leash to the settee’s arm.
“Tell me about the swallowing problem,” he told her. “Why won’t you do it? Afraid of the
taste?”
“No, nothing like that,” she replied. “I ...”
There was an immediate change of mood evident in her face. Before she had been bright,
with a sparkle in her eyes, but suddenly that was gone, as if haunted by some inner fear.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you can’t,” he told her.
“No, I should talk about it.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “When I was at
nursing college I was violently abused. I was walking home from a late shift at the
hospital and this guy jumped out on me and dragged me into some bushes in the park. He had
a knife. He forced me to ...”
“Suck him off?”
Sara nodded. Paul waited for her to continue.
“I just can’t get it out of my mind. I don’t mind oral sex at all - quite like it, in
fact, and I’ve got so close, but each time I feel Damien’s about to come I panic. It got
so bad for both of us that we don’t even try any more. It’s the one thing I can’t do for
him. I’m surprised he gave it to you as your challenge. Maybe he just wants to make sure
you won’t win.”
“I won’t force you, Sara. But I do want you to try.”
“You’re the boss,” she smiled. “But would you mind, er ... showering first? I know where
it’s been, remember?”
“I was going to anyway. Come on.”
Taking the end of the leash again, he led the way upstairs and into the front bedroom.
It seemed strange having another woman there - he’d always been here with Laura before. He
unlocked the chains on Sara’s cuffs and told her to take off her shoes while he undressed
completely. For a man whom she’d always considered as almost a father figure, Sara thought
Paul had a very attractive body. She stood there in her stockings, suspenders and thong,
waiting for him to tell her what next.
Paul took her by the arm and walked through to the en-suite bathroom, closing the door
behind him and turning on the shower. When he had the temperature right he stepped into
the cubicle, then held his hand out for Sara. She reached down to unfasten her suspenders,
but he cut her short.
“Leave them on,” he told her.
Sara shrugged and stepped into the shower. The water soaking into her clothes felt
decidedly odd, but not unpleasant. Paul unscrewed a plastic bottle of shower gel and
squeezed some into her hand, then pulled the hand to his cock, telling her to make it as
clean as she wanted, because when she had he was going to put it in her mouth. The way he
said it gave her a shiver. Damien didn’t really use words much, he was more the type to
just pull and push her into position, so the way Paul said it was getting to her. He was
going to put it in her mouth - no question, no regard for whether she wanted that or not,
just a statement of fact. As she soaped his cock, it quickly rose to full, shining, soapy,
wet erection. It felt good in her hands and her hands felt good on him. As she stroked and
soaped him, he squeezed some gel in his own hands and massaged her breasts and shoulders
until her nipples were erect and hard, almost painfully so.
“You have beautiful nipples, Sara,” he said as he flicked his thumbs over them.
“Tomorrow I will put pegs on them. Now, am I clean enough for you?”
Sara nodded, a shiver of nervousness going through her again. She knew what he wanted,
he’d left no doubt about it. But she knew just as strongly that she couldn’t do it.
“Will you tell me if you’re going to come?” she asked.
He assured her he would. Gentle pressure from his hands on her shoulders pushed her into
a kneeling position, bringing his erection right in front of her mouth. She wasn’t scared
of that, it looked just fine and - as she opened her mouth to take him in - he tasted
clean and fresh and felt satisfyingly good. Paul looked down at her face as her eyes
looked back at him. He always found that a hugely erotic vision, his cock in a woman’s
mouth and her eyes looking up at him. Sara looked quite at ease sucking him, moving her
mouth slowly up and down his shaft and lashing her tongue round the head, using her hands
to fondle his balls and rub his shaft.
“If you don’t swallow, I will whip you again,” he told her.
She immediately took her mouth away and looked up.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to force me?” she replied, looking anxious.
“I’m not,” he grinned. “I’ll whip you if you do swallow as well. Either way, you get
whipped. You like that, don’t you, slave, being whipped?”
He was using words again. How could he have guessed that talking would get to her?
“Yes, Master, I like being whipped,” she cooed, her lips enclosing his cock again as she
shut her eyes.
“I like that. That’s the first time you’ve called me Master,” he told her, moving his
hand to the back of her head and controlling the speed of her movements. “You are my slave
for the weekend. I’ll whip you often and I’ll fuck you often.”
An extra powerful suck told him his words were getting to her.
“You’re very lovely, slave. Your mouth feels good, so did your arse. I think I’ll have
your pussy next. I may decide to suck it. Did I tell you you’ll be tied up all night by
the way, slave?”
Sara shook her head, sending the most exquisite sensations through his cock. Paul was
quite used to being sucked - Laura liked to do it and got a real buzz from having him come
in her mouth or over her face, demonstrating to her, so she said, that she existed as a
target for his lust. She was very good at sucking him, far better than Sara, yet something
about the fact this was a new woman, a different mouth, one which he’d never had before,
coupled with the fact this just might be the first time she enjoyed receiving a mouthful
of semen, had him gasping and approaching orgasm fast. He looked down at her face, her
eyes still closed dreamily and the shower water running down her cheeks and hair. It was
very tempting to just let it happen, to not tell her, but he had given his word.
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