Highly readable account of a pixie-ish home decorating diva who, along with a woman carpenter friend works to satisfy her master, the narrator. M/f+, BDSM, lingerie, toys, consensual, exploit, humiliation, reluctant. Girl on Girl.
(A little bit of spoof here of home decorating shows that ran in early 2000's... )
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About 30 minutes later, I started downstairs again. Gagged moans of protest had drifted up the stairs from the TV. As I stepped downstairs, I caught the scent of dripping pussy.
Mindy was flushed red from the throat up, and groaned at me, trying to communicate around the thick rubber cock in her mouth and throat. In response, I massaged her tits through her sheer nylon top and black bra. I ran hands all over her body, as she closed her eyes to my touch. Her thighs were slick with juice, and I got my fingers good and wet before visiting Amy Lynn.
She too was wild with frustration. I smeared my wife's pussy juices over Amy Lynn's tits, and then plastic tape gag, so she could enjoy the full aroma. On the TV, a brunette and redhead were hogtied side-by-side, straining at their ropes. It had a maddening effect on Amy Lynn.
With a marker, I wrote on her bare thigh, starting high on her thigh and writing sideways down to her knee: "D-R-I-P-P-I-N-G". On her T-shirt at the belly, I wrote: "P-U-S-S-Y L-I-C-K-E-R". If this bitch wanted humiliation, I was going to accommodate her.
My wife's protests drew my attention and I unbuckled her pecker gag and withdrew it, a long string of saliva accompanying it. "Master, may I please have some water?" I held the cup for her to refresh herself.
"Master, how may I pleasure you? I want to pleasure you sir. I can't take much more of this." She flexed gloved fingers, trying to move her arms under the coils and coils of white rope. I agreed it was about time for her to relieve me, as my cock was straining to the bursting.
I undid the strapping and ropes, pausing only to snap the chrome handcuffs on, capturing her wrists in front of her. I helped my unsteady slave to her feet.
"Now slave, I don't want to forget our guest. You haven't forgotten her, now have you?" I asked. Mindy's broad mouth smiled. In response to my question, Amy Lynn had not managed to achieve orgasm.
I directed Mindy to take the pecker gag over to her friend, and thread one strap through the leather panty waistband. The rubber cock hung off Amy Lynn's waist, dangling just inches from her pussy mound. Amy Lynn looked almost delirious with frustration as the bulbous head swayed so close to her vagina.
On screen, the brunette and redhead had been retied face to face, each with wrists tied in front of them, around the torso of her partner. They wore a double ball gag, which made it seem as if they were kissing. I took the inspiration.
"Now I want you to get in close to this slave, rubbing your breasts against hers. And with your hands in front of you as they are, I'm sure Amy Lynn would appreciate a tug on that crotch rope."
Mindy complied, pressing herself against our new slave, running her hands over the leather panty, working the crotch rope deep into Amy Lynn's slit. Mindy kissed her friend's face, panted in her ear and whispered foul things to her. I lifted her skirt for a better view of my wife's ass. Here's the two of them together:
Mindy backed away and I gave her the marker pen. She knelt and with cuffed hands wrote on the T-shirt: "H-O-R-N-Y B-I-T-C-H."
I lifted the T-shirt over Amy Lynn's breasts and unhooked the leather bra. I massaged her breasts roughly. From her gasps, Amy Lynn welcomed the attention. I arranged the bra cups out of the way, pulled the shirt back down. Mindy had fetched the scissors. I pulled the material away from our slave's erect nipple and with a careful snip, cut the thin cotton material. It sprang back into place, Amy Lynn's tits and areola poking through the material. "For all the world to see," I said, as she blushed even darker. A second or two later and both tits were on display. Amy Lynn watched her own form in the mirror.
Mindy had been rubbing her own clit furiously through the short dress and I acknowledged she needed relief. "Get me a wide scarf, slave." Mindy flew to the toy drawer and brought back the requested article. I held it up to Amy Lynn, and despite her protesting moans, covered her eyes and head with several windings, then tied off the blindfold.
I bent Mindy over the arm of the chair in which she had been tied, not realizing that she could smell her own wetness in its seat. As she leaned forward on her elbows, wrists cuffed in front of her, I easily entered her from behind. I pumped her at a slow, luxurious pace. I could see the tied beauties on the TV, then look over at my newfound bound slave on the wall. And watch my sex slave throw her head from side to side, panting and talking filth. Amy Lynn could hear the two of us fucking, could hear the gagged moans and protests from the TV. She writhed in her bondage, desperate for relief.
And then Mindy came. She was very vocal about it, groaning, pleading, gasping. And that sensation, coupled with the visual spectacle before me, caused my cock to pulse and shoot wads of cum into my slave's hot snatch.
Slave Mindy and I collapsed on the futon sofa and I uncuffed her wrists. We cuddled in post-coital bliss while Amy Lynn stood before us, all but stamping her feet in frustration. Mindy and I whispered privately and intimately, too softly for Amy Lynn to hear.
Then Mindy went clumping up the stairs in her heels. I recoiled rope and put away the belts. When I heard the shower start upstairs, I took a soft leather whip from the drawer. Without warning I flicked Amy Lynn's thighs, breasts, and stomach. She wailed in surprise at the unexpected assault. I could see that each caress with my whip drove her more horny .
I unhooked her collar from the ring, then loosened the leather collar and removed it. I unhooked her ankles from the spreader bar and rehooked her ankles together. I restarted the cassette in the VCR and set the volume just loud enough for Amy Lynn to hear. Then I too, left her, chained to the wall in our dark basement.
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A while later we both went back downstairs. Slave Amy Lynn had slumped in her bonds, her dark hair cascading over her face. She wearily raised her head as we approached, and we both saw at once that she had been crying. Clear mucus ran across her "cunt" tape gag, and mascara streaks had run from under the silken blindfold and dried on her cheeks.
For a moment I thought, damn, I had gone too far. I looked at my wife. She grinned manically and held up a palm. High Five!
Mindy took the marker pen and wrote something new on the T-shirt, across our slave's ribcage.