I didn't really know where we were going. At first, I thought he was driving me
home. I didn't really know the way, and he hadn't asked me where I lived. We
weren't terribly far from my house, though, not in driving distance, when he turned
instead down a paved driveway, with tall hedges on either side.
The double garage door of a blue and white bungalow slid up. It was quite nice
looking bungalow, and the garage was tiled and spotless as the Mercedes slid in next to a
large SUV. The garage door closed behind us and he got out, came around to the passenger
door and opened it. I got out, and he led me, again with the arm across my shoulders, to
the door into the house.
“I designed this place five years ago,” he said.
The house was much bigger on the inside than I had expected. It was built into the
side of a hill, so that rather than one floor, it actually had two, plus an attic. The
back yard, which was large, backed onto the conservation area, and it had high hedges all
around. It was entirely private, and I was instantly in love with it.
There was a pond at one end, probably twenty five feet or more across. A hill had
been built up at one end, and a water fall ten feet high spilled down into the pond. There
was also a stream which meandered across the yard, crossed by a stone bridge, which
spilled into the pond. There were a number of trees, bushes and plants about, and it just
looked like a paradise.
He kissed me again, his hands going around me, sliding down my back. But this time
they gripped the bottom of my sweater, and sliding up, drew it with them. I didn't
realize what he was doing until my sweater was almost over my breasts, and then, given my
uncertainty about what to do, how to respond, he had pulled it higher, lifting my arms up
to peel it up and off over my head.
I froze completely, my heart pounding, my pulse racing in my throat as he casually
undid the clasp at the side of my skirt, and it dropped around my ankles.
“Step forward,” he said, pulling on my arm.
Breathless, I did as he bade, and had me take off my shoes. Meanwhile he unclipped
my bra and removed it.
Again I was hit by a shock-wave of emotions. My arms quickly jerked up across my
breasts, my face flaming with embarrassment, but he shook his head sternly.
“Arms down,” he said, in a tone which brooked no refusal.
Blushing furiously, I dropped my arms, and he gripped my hair, pulling my head up
and back again.
“Lovely,” he said. “I don't want any slouching, Modesty. Nor, for that matter,
do I want any modesty.”
He put his arm across my bare shoulders and led me over to the pond, wearing
nothing but my panties. I had no idea what to do! Inside, my mind was spinning like a top!
I was embarrassed, anxious, and mostly, concerned about doing the wrong thing.
He sat down on a stone bench next to the pond, and, this close, I saw there were
stairs leading down into it. It was an artificial pond, but also, evidently, for
swimming.
He sat down on the bench, though, and then pulled me down as well, so I was sitting
across his lap.
I looked away uncomfortably, heart pounding, gasping as his hand stroked my
breast.
“You have gorgeous breasts,” he murmured.
My breasts throbbed, my nipples desperately erect as his fingers flicked them
lightly.
He jerked back on my hair, stronger, harder than he had before, and I gasped, hands
jerking up.
“Hands at your sides,” he barked.
I dropped them, heart pounding, and he bent to lick lightly, to kiss gently, to
nibble at my exposed throat, and down along the nape of my neck. As he did so his free
hand kneaded my breast, then began to pinch the nipple, tugging at it, twisting it, making
me gasp and squirm in discomfort.
His head dropped lower, and I felt a hot surge of excitement as his mouth too my
nipple into it and began to suck. His tongue swirled around it and over it as his teeth
bit lightly into the soft flesh of my breast.
Then his hand slid down my shivering belly and into my panties. I let out a
helpless cry of shock as his fingers found my narrow sex, found my swollen clit, and
rubbed casually across it. I squirmed and twisted, almost instinctively, both embarrassed
by his touch, and shocked by the powerful sensations it raised.
He pulled my head back sharply.
“Stop squirming,” he ordered.
I stopped, gasping, moaning, back arched almost painfully now, my head almost
upside down, staring at sky behind me. My chest was tight, my stomach fluttering, and my
pussy... ohmygod!
His hand moved up and down my body, kneading my breasts, caressing my thighs, inner
and outer, then I felt my panties being jerked down under my buttocks, down my legs...
off.
I was naked!
His hand moved across my body gently, exploring, but not afraid to squeeze hard
where he wanted. All the while he kept a hold of my hair, holding me in place, holding me
in position. I couldn't really do anything, but that, in way, was a relief. I
wasn't expected to do anything. He didn't want me to move. That was reassuring.
I let him do what he wanted, even when his finger probed and then penetrated me, and began
to slide in and out.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered.
I obeyed breathlessly, and two fingers, maybe three, yes, three, pushed deep into
my rapidly moistening puss. At the same time, his thumb stroked across my clit, and my
hips began to grind in helpless response. I was half laying back because of the way my
head was tilted, and my legs began to jerk up and down as his fingers plunged into me.
My head was still spinning, and the sexual heat was pulsing within me to a degree I
had never known.
Then he stopped. His hand came away, and he released my hair, pushing on my upper
back so that I was sitting upright once more, dizzily staring down at him as he kissed me
lightly.
“Get on your knees,” he said.
Heart pounding, I eased down onto my knees on the stone before him, staring at him,
staring at his groin, blushing again, feeling very small.
“Spread your legs wider, and straighten your back. Put your hands on your outer
thighs, palms up.”
I didn't understand, but I obeyed. It seemed the natural thing to do. I knew
little, and he knew, obviously, much. He was older, wiser, stronger, both physically and
mentally. My face was red under his gaze.
“Odd that such an innocent young girl shaves all her pubic hair off,” he said,
examining my sex.
I squirmed mentally, and my knees moved marginally closer together.
“Legs apart,” he ordered firmly, and yes, it was an order.
I obeyed.
“They should be so wide the tendons in your inner thighs ache and strain.
I gulped and pushed them just a little wider.
“When did you start shaving your pussy?”
“I-I-I... don't know,” I gulped frantically.
He glowered at me. “How long?”
“I uhm, a few years.”
“Why? A boyfriend prefer it that way?”
“No, I... it seemed... the pictures and uhm, the videos I saw, they all.. they all
shaved their... hair.”
“But who was to see except you?”
I almost shrugged. “No one,” I said in a small voice.
“Put your fingers on the lips of your sex, and spread them open for me.”
My eyes widened, and I felt a jolt. I didn't want to! But at the same time the
heat throbbed within me. So nasty! So dirty!
I obeyed, fingers shaking a bit.
“Wider.”
I gulped and stretched my sex lips apart, feeling overwhelmed by it all.
“Lay back.”
I lay back gratefully, at first, but then he ordered me to put my feet flat on the
ground and spread my knees wide apart. I blushed even more deeply, staring up at him.
“Spread your pussy open again.”
I obeyed again, feeling horrifically obscene.
“I think you are quite wet, little girl. Slide your finger in there and let me
see.”
Why was I obeying?! I didn't know! I didn't want to do this. It was
shockingly obscene and humiliating to display yourself like this. It was worse even then
going to the gynecologist, and she was a woman!
But I slid my finger into my warm, moist opening, dipping it really.
“Deeper.”
Chest fluttering, I pushed my finger deeper, and then deeper still.
“Pull it out and show me.”
I obeyed, face burning. My finger was slick.
“Put it back in.”
Again I obeyed.
“Add a second finger.”
A small whimper of denial escaped me, but I did it, sliding two fingers into my
pussy.
“Now place the middle and index finger of your left hand against the top of your
pussy, over your clit.”
I did so, trembling with anxiety, trembling with heat, feeling buffeted by the
wildness of these events. I preferred my life to be quiet, peaceful and without anything
that was emotionally upsetting or stressful. This was all that and more!
“Rub your finger up and down there.”
I obeyed again, and gasped in shock both at the physical sensation and the
realization of what I was doing.
I jerked my hands away.
“Did I tell you to stop?” he demanded in a cold voice.
“But I – .”
“Put your fingers back in place now,” he growled.
I did so, trembling even more, though not so much in fear as in... anxiety. I was
squirming mentally, horribly embarrassed at doing what he wanted, but afraid of rejection
of I refused. And yes, there was that wall of dark heat and arousal swirling around my
mind to add to the stress and uncertainty.
I obeyed, and my fingers rubbed up and down against my clit as he looked on. It was
humiliating! I felt tears well up in my eyes, which blinked rapidly as I rubbed. But the
sensations coming from down there were growing more and more powerful, sweeping over my
body like a crackle of hot electricity. And his attitude, his calmness, helped calm me. He
was taking it so casually and so naturally that my intense discomfort and embarrassment
began to seep away.
The sensation were making it impossible to keep still. My hips began to rise up and
down, grinding against my fingers, and my breathing grew more and more ragged. Heat swept
through me and around me, and the deepening need and arousal swept everything else out of
my care.
It wasn't just the physical sensations, of course, it was the emotional
shock-wave of doing this in front of him, in front of anyone.
“Stop.”
I moaned, hips grinding.
“Stop!”
I halted, gasping, staring up at him.
Hands apart, on your outer thighs.
Gulping in air, I obeyed, my hands shaking as I looked up at him.
“Have you ever masturbated in front of a man before?”
A jolt hit me.
“N-No,” I whimpered.
“Say it out loud.”
“No!”
“No what?”
My face, already flushed, heated further.
“No, I … never masturbated in front of anyone,” I gasped in a choked voice.
“How often do you masturbate?”
Such outrageous questions!
“I-I don't know,” I moaned.
“Every day?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“More than once?”
“S-sometimes.”
“Is this how you masturbate? Do you masturbate in different positions?”
My face felt as though it would burn off!
“Answer me.”
“I... sometimes,” gulped.
“What other positions do you masturbate in?”
“S-sometimes on my side?” I gulped.
“And?”
“I-I – .”
I gulped in air.
“I.. sometimes on my stomach.”
“Get on your stomach. Show me.”
Oh my God!
“Now!”
I rolled onto my stomach, feeling my breasts pillowing against the hard, warm
stone, then I raised my bottom and slid my arms down between my legs.
“Do it,” he said.
I rubbed at my clit, while he stared from behind.
“Any other positions?”
“S-Sometimes bent over... against the counter... in the bathroom...” I gulped.
“Stop. Kneel before me again.”
Panting, a sheen of perspiration covering me now, I sat up, almost reluctant to
stop touching myself now. I knelt in front of him the way he wanted me to, and he looked
down at me.
“You're an obedient thing,” he said. “I like that in a girl.”
He stood up, and his hand descended, his fingers stroking my hair, almost petting
me.
“Wait here. Don't move.”
He walked back to the house and disappeared inside, and I knelt there, eyes wide,
still overheated, from inside and out. I rolled my eyes towards the tall hedges, worried
someone might be hiding there, looking. God! If someone saw me like this...!
What was I doing here anyway?! Was I insane!? I was outside and naked and doing the
most shocking, wicked things! I masturbated in front of him! Right outside! Naked!
I should grab my things, get dressed, and run out. I stared at my clothes longingly,
almost feeling a pull towards them.
Then he emerged from the house, walking towards me. He had something in his hand
but I couldn't make it out and – Oh My God! It was a collar!
“Do you remember the scene where Twenty is given a collar, and then led along with
a leash?” he asked.
I stared at the collar. It seemed unremarkable, other than that it WAS a collar. It
was leather, studded, and the sight of it made me ache between the legs in a way I'd
never felt. He calmly moved behind me, and slid the collar around my neck. He pulled it in
tight, loosened it a little, then buckled it behind my neck. I was dazed by the feel of
it, by the knowledge I had a collar around my throat. I was naked, and had a collar around
my throat!
Then he dangled the leash before my eyes. I hadn't seen it, but my eyes grew
even wider at the sight. He bent down and clipped it to the back of the collar, and I
started to rise.
“Kneel!” he barked in a stern tone.
I jerked back into place.
“You do not move without my permission. You were told not to move, were you not?”
“Y-Yes!” I gulped.
“Then why did you?”
“I-I'm sorry!” I gulped.
“Disobedience requires punishment. I went you to turn and bend, put your chest and
face on the ground and raise your bottom high.
My mind was buffeted by emotions and my body burned with heat as I obeyed, pressing
my swollen breasts against the stone again.
“Arms ahead of you. Look straight ahead. Knees together.”
I carried out his orders, finding it difficult to breath because of the tightness
in my chest.
“Are you sorry for disobeying my order?”
Why should I obey his order!? Really, the thought was there but not at all
serious.
“Yes,” I gulped.
“Do you deserve to be punished?”
“Y-Yes,” I squeaked.
“Then ask for it.”
I didn't understand. My mind wasn't working properly. It was as though I
were drunk or feverish. The wild, swirling waves of emotion and heat made it impossible to
think straight.
“Ask for it,” he ordered.
“P-Please punish me,” I gulped.
I wasn't sure what he was going to do, but having me put my bottom in the air
made it fairly obvious he was going to hit me there. I don't know why the idea
didn't shock me. Maybe his reference to Twenty, to Van Gotha, and all. But when the
blow fell, sharp, stinging, I cried out in shock and pain, but was not really surprised.
I felt a line of heat across my buttocks, then another as the blow struck a second
time. A third time, and a fourth, and I cried out, the pain clawing at my soft flesh.
Another blow, and another, with a soft crack! of something leathery against my bottom.
“Now push yourself back onto all fours,” he ordered calmly.
Trembling, I did, my breasts aching, and I felt the tug on the collar from the
leash.
It pulled as he walked, and I crawled awkwardly across the stone, then onto the
grass. I felt a sense of relief in the soft grass as he walked slowly along. I crawled at
his heels, not really understanding what we were doing, or why, but feeling an incredible
heat roll through me at doing it.
He led me around the side of the yard, pointing out the different bushes and plants
and flowers, naming them, My bottom was hot, flaming, but it couldn't distract me
from the heat between my legs as I crawled along on the leash.
He stopped suddenly, and jerked up and back on the leash. I gurgled, forced up onto
my knees.
“Sit on your heels as before,” he ordered.
I sank down, knees spreading, hands going to my thighs.
“You don't get out in the sun much, do you, girl?”
I shook my head and got light slap to the back of my head.
“Don't nod or shake your head. Answer audibly.”
“N-No,” I gulped.
“Wait here. Do not move.”
I obeyed, staring at the flower before me, big white snowball blooms covering it.
“Shouldn't be out with such pale skin in the sun, not without sunscreen,” he
said.
He squatted next to me with a bottle in his hand, and squirted the liquid along my
shoulders, then down my arms and between my breasts. I started to move and his voice
snapped at me, ordering me back into position. He spread the oil over my body with his own
hand, being quite casual and efficient about it so far as my back and shoulders and sides
went, but his hands spending more time working the oil into my breasts.
Then when he got down between my legs – Oh! My! God! The sensation of his slippery
warm fingers sliding across my clit was so intense I couldn't keep still! I gurgled
and ground my hips and despite his repeated orders, including a sharp jerk on my hair, I
couldn't keep still. The sensations were too intense! I was on the edge of a massive
climax!
He made me kneel for punishment again, this time with my legs spread wide. He kept
me like that, breasts and belly against the grass, back arched, bottom raised, knees wide,
for several minutes while I cooled down.
Then he continued, spreading oil over my buttocks and down the backs of my thighs,
down my legs and even onto my bare feet. His hand returned to my bottom, and I shuddered
as his slippery fingers stroked across my rosebud, then prodded at it, slowly sinking into
me 'back there'.
“Have you ever been sodomized, girl?”
I jerked as if struck. “N-No!” I gasped.
“You will be. You have a gorgeous little ass, simply gorgeous.”
His finger pushed deep into my ass, and my eyes were wide and staring as I felt it
twist and turn inside me. I was amazed it hadn't hurt more, even with the slippery
oil, and when he added a second finger I felt the tightness of my sphincter clamping down
on them as he pumped them slowly in and out.
“Don't move,” he ordered.
He went back inside again, leaving me like that, naked, legs spread, feeling the
light breeze against my naked, oiled pussy as it burned and throbbed with heat.
He returned, and I felt his fingers against my ass again, then something pushed
against me there, something thicker, wider than his fingers, something – artificial. I
gasped and shuddered, my hips fighting to buck upwards, as it slowly stretched my opening
out, stretched it painfully wide. The thing slid deeper, twisting from side to side, then
deeper still. It pulled back, then slid deeper, until I felt cramps inside me. Then it
felt as though my sphincter eased closed behind it.
“Legs together.”
Gulping in air, I jerked my knees together on the grass, and this time the blow
came from something very thin. It stung! I jerked my head around and back to see he held
very thin crop of some kind. It had a handle big enough for his hand, and then there was a
very thin, hard... whatever... protruding from it.
“Head forward,” he ordered.
I obeyed, and another blow followed. The thing cut through the air with the sound
of tearing paper, but hardly made any sound as it struck my upraised bottom. The feel of
the blow was pretty light, too, lighter than the belt he had used on me before. But oh how
it stung! I cried out with every blow, the heat growing more terrible so that tears filled
my eyes.
Another blow followed, and another, and another, and I sobbed in pain as my bottom
flamed.
“Are you sorry for disobeying?”
“Y-Y-Yes!” I sobbed.
“Are you sorry for being bad?”
“Yeeess!” I whimpered.
“Say it.”
“I-I'm sorry for being bad!” I sobbed.
“Back on all fours.
I pushed myself slowly back up onto my hands and knees, and he tugged on the leash,
leading me along, his voice back to normal as he informed about this or that plant, and
what it liked, and how long it had been there, and when it bloomed.
I sniffled and blinked away the tears, and though my bottom stung, its importance
began to slowly fade into the background of the heat which surged up around me again. My
breasts felt heavy below me as I crawled along, swaying as I did, the nipples
uncomfortably hard, to the point I felt an almost irresistible need to touch and squeeze
them.
The thing he'd pushed into my bottom was an ever-present sensation. It was
thick and heavy inside my belly, and I felt it moving as I moved, as if it was somehow
burrowing deeper and deeper into my belly. The thought was both alarming and enthralling,
and I felt my sex lips swollen out like the lips of a kiss, delicately parted in
anticipation of a kiss.
Why hadn't he put something in there!? I really wanted something inside me
there!
I had fallen into a sense of instinctive obedience to his orders, to his wishes. I
didn't question the wisdom or his right to give me orders, no matter what they were.
I might wince in anticipation, but I knew I was going to do it, however reluctant, however
embarrassing. I didn't even think on why. I just knew I would, knew I couldn't
refuse him.
And I was so intensely aroused, more aroused than I had ever been in my life. I
couldn't breath normally, couldn't keep my hands from shaking whenever they
weren't on the ground or pressed against something. I soooo wanted him to fuck me!
But I daren't ask!
Then, he led me, still crawling, into the house. We walked down a narrow hall
towards a den of some kind, and my knees began to ache now on the hard wood. He had me
stop and spread my knees, and then he slid that crop thing in between my thighs, and
brought the thin shaft up against my sex. I shuddered as it pushed between my pussy lips,
and let out a strangled cry as it slid against my throbbing, burning clit.
“Would you like to come, girl?”
“Y-Yes!” I gasped in a strangled voice.
“Beg for it.”
“P-Please may I come!?” I cried.
“Again.”
“Please may I come!”
“Again. Put more begging into it.”
“Please may I come! Please!”
It was horribly degrading, and a part of me realized that, and winced at it, but I
was so feverish with hunger and lust that I didn't really care about anything else.
He pulled me forward then just inside, with my knees gratefully on a thick rug, he
pulled on the leash, raising me up onto my knees. He turned me towards the edge of the
door.
“Grab the doorknobs, and you can grind yourself against the door and come,” he
said.
Was he joking!?
Then again, the door was covered in plush black leather with studded panels, as if
soundproofed. I reached for the handles as if in a daze, gripping them on both sides of
the door, bringing my chest against the edge just below where the bolt pushed out. I
don't know what I was really thinking about except the intensity of the swollen need
between my legs. But I grasped the door handles for leverage, angled my lower body in, and
pressed my sex against it.
Oh God! The sensations poured through me! My head flew back, my back arching, and I
was helpless, grinding my pussy frantically against the leather as the heat rolled over me
in massive waves! I cried out again and again as the orgasm hit, losing my breath then as
my thighs caught the door between them and I ground myself desperately, gurgling and
sobbing in maddened animal heat.
The orgasm tore though me like a hurricane of sensations. It went on and on, and
the only thing which stopped it, I think, was that I couldn't breath. I didn't
think to breath, and the automatic function which caused my body to breath in and out
without thought seemed overwhelmed by the storm of sensations tearing through me. I
didn't breath. My head swelled, pounded, my eyes rolling back in my head.
And then my fingers slipped from the doorknobs and I fell back heavily onto the
rug, chest heaving, finally, mouth wide, gasping for breath as I stared dazedly up at the
paneled ceiling.
Chapter Three
The den was nice. It was something like the one in my house, actually, except the
shelves and furniture here were brown and black, where my own father's den held wine
colored leather furniture and the bookcases were cherry-wood. This room also had cleaner,
more modern lines. His desk was not the old fashioned double pedestal of my father but a
modern looking slab of stone and glass.
I noticed none of this, at first. I lay on my back, sprawled bonelessly, chest
rising and falling as I regained my breath and sanity. And then, slowly, I raised my head,
then sat up, looking around. I blushed to see him sitting behind the desk watching me.
He reached down and snapped his fingers, and I knew he wanted me there. Breathing
still somewhat ragged, I rolled onto my belly and then pushed myself back to all fours,
then crawled around the desk to him.
“Feel better?”
I nodded, then remembered. “Yes,” I gulped, blushing.
“Thank me.”
“Thank you for... for letting me... come,” I said hesitantly, blushing even more
deeply.
“I think you should start addressing me as sir. Go ahead. Thank me again.”
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