The tiny apartment was bright. It was also reasonably clean, which was somewhat unusual for Claire. She'd had another of her increasingly frequent periods of energy and, well, this was how she'd chosen to channel it. It looked nice, but she was, strangely, not as gratified as she could be. She wished she could put her energy into something better, more interesting, dare she even say productive?
She strongly suspected that last night's frolic had a lot to do with it. Claire's vagina ached from the pounding it had taken. So did her asshole. She giggled. Even that hurt a little, from Paul's jaw-popping cock. "I'm so bad."
That gave her an idea. Moving in front of her full-length mirror and letting her bathrobe fall open, she gazed at the strip of skin between her neck and panties. Idly, she let the nails of her left hand trace a path up and down her midsection. "Yes, I think so." Reaching quickly into her panties she swiped a finger between her labia and brought it to her lips. Her own scent, as always, turned her on immeasurably. She licked the finger, accompanied by a ragged little exhale, almost a purr.
Claire looked across the room to where the wide leather collar dangled, bolted to the wall by a short industrial chain. Turning to the small suitcase sitting nearby, she opened it and removed three items: a wide leather waist belt with integral handcuffs, a 2 foot spreader bar with manacles for her ankles, and rather imposing red dildo which she affixed to a length of broomstick she had devised for this specific purpose.
With practiced hands she buckled the spreader bar to her ankles holding her legs apart. The belt she fastened snugly around her waist and with one hand, her right, fastened her left wrist to the belt so that it was in effect useless. Backing up to the wall, she deftly fastened the collar about her slim neck. It was quite snug and quite tall, so that it forced her neck into a rather regal position. At least she liked to think of it that way. She inserted the dildo into her already abused asshole a bit gingerly, savoring the knowledge of her own debauchery. The broomstick she wedged against the floor so that the toy remained firmly inside her.
Claire began a slow, subtle dance, restrained though she was. Her free right hand made fanlike motions, dancing across her naked skin, brushing a nipple, then flicking a manicured nail against her clitoris. Her hips swayed and thrusted, manipulating the toy inside her, stretching and stroking her sphincter. She groaned, savoring the intense feeling of fullness it gave her. Experimentally, she stretched her head forward drawing the chain taut. The collar constricted her throat and she leaned farther into it, her breathing becoming labored. She knew it was dangerous, but she loved the helpless feeling of nearly passing out. She stroked her clit harder, then harder still, her juices flowing freely.
Her hips bucked and danced driving the toy deeper inside her, making her asshole spasm in pleasure. Her clit was on fire now, and she came screaming, albeit a muffled one due to the effect the collar was having. Her knees trembled, and it was all she could do for a few minutes to hold herself upright, shaking. She knew one day someone would hear her but it was tough to care at times like this. It just felt so insanely good. The building was old and had several occupants separated from her by only thin walls. Sometimes she wondered if they could hear her, and if maybe, just maybe, they got off listening to her. "Which ones?" she considered.
Finally releasing herself from the apparatus she began to put the various pieces away. She would wash the dildo so she left it in the sink. She needed a good wash herself, she thought wryly. Between last night and today she must smell like sex personified. Ah, the benefits of living alone.
The door rattled in its frame as the person on the other side of it demanded entry. Claire, in a startled squeak, shrilled "who is it?" "It's Michael, goddammit!" Oh shit, he knew. Oh shit, O shit.
"Let me in."
Claire hastily opened the door, neglecting to close her quickly donned robe. Michael came in and closed the door, a little too hard, behind him. Glancing at her attire, he said, "it figures. Well, I won't waste either of our time. I really just wanted to see the look on your face when I told you that I knew about Paul." At this, something in Claire rebelled. She felt good - slutty, horny, dirty. Powerful. It turned her on so much, and she was tired of denying it. "Yes, Michael, I was with Paul last night. It was great. We did things you and I never have, things you never want to do, and I'm not ashamed."
The look in Michael's eyes was dangerous. Claire knew she'd gone too far but at this point she didn't care. She continued, "If you just stepped up to the plate we wouldn't be having this conversation. I tried telling you what I wanted but either you wouldn't listen or you didn't care." Michael opened his mouth as if to speak, then saw the collar still dangling from its hook on the wall. "What the fuck is that?"
"That's something Paul and I like." Claire said defiantly.
"What else do you like, slut?" barked Michael. Then, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her to face him, he slapped her across the face once sharply. "Okay," he said, calmer now. "Let's see what you're made of." He drew her over to the collar and fastened her neck in it once again. Then, looking around and finding nothing that would serve, he slid his belt from his pants. Doubling it, he approached Claire. "Spread your legs," he said quietly. "You will keep your legs apart until I tell you otherwise." Michael ordered. "Yes," Claire breathed.
The belt flicked upward between her thighs, stinging against her labia, her clit, both swollen from all the attention they'd been given already. Then sideways, against her thighs, raising red marks. She quivered but did not move. Her fists were clenched but she kept her arms at her sides as directed. Michael reached out and rolled each nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Then, holding them with one hand he began to strike the engorged nipples with the flat of his belt, until Claire squealed in pain. She did not, however, ask him to stop.
Apparently satisfied with the results, Michael tossed the belt aside. Coming very close to Claire he reached down and slid his hand between her legs. "You're soaking," he said. Releasing her from the wall but retaining the collar on her neck he instructed her to bend over. She did so, and Michael casually spread her ass cheeks with one hand, observing. "Been using this a bit too, I see. You really are a nasty little bitch. Maybe I'll use it too." Keeping her bent he positioned her in front of him and unzipped his fly. Quickly licking his hand and stroking himself erect, he slid himself into her asshole with one smooth motion, causing her to gasp in surprise, pain and pleasure. Her asshole felt raw and abused, exquisitely sensitive. Claire wondered if she could take this again so soon. Michael began to thrust grabbing her hips and forcing himself into her. After a short time, he pulled out, saying, "not yet."
"Suck. Eat." Claire obediently began to do just that, shifting onto her knees to accommodate him. She always made little noises of pleasure when she had a cock in her mouth. To her, sucking dick was pure pleasure: she loved to serve, and she was very, very good at it.
