Collar Me

Chapter 7: Stilettos

Her voice was throaty. It was also a bit slurred—I guess she'd drunk her share of the champagne as well. But which of her words were the important ones? That my master's name was Dave? Did I even really want to know that? That he was a wuss—so was she going to do my punishment right? Or did she really want a turn with me?

I heard a slow click, click, click of stilettos on wood. As each "click" came closer, my thighs, belly, and fists tightened, and I realized how right men were about the sound of heels—sexy, scary, and utterly feminine.

I was trying to hear where she was, locating the slight slithers from her clothes when I heard another swish, louder and faster. "Ayyyyyy" escaped before I could clamp down and bite the scream back. The blow had landed low on my belly and it stung; no, "stung" didn't come close—it lay a line of fire on my skin.

"That is how you deliver a punishment blow, Dave." Would you like to me to demonstrate again?"

"No, no, no, no, no, please, please..." I was thinking to myself while I clenched my teeth, anticipating another.

"Perhaps some other time, I could demonstrate on you—I'd enjoy that. You might too, it would be fun to see." She almost purred.

"I'm not sure I'm up for one of your scenes, Claire, so I think we'll pass." said Dave, my master.

She chuckled, but then warm breath and Chanel enveloped my face. I hovered in the straps, my breath shallow and tense. Soft lips touched mine, feather light, barely connecting. They hovered there for a second and then slowly spread to cover mine. They were slick, well lubricated by lip gloss. Her mouth turned slightly and her nose slid against mine. Her kiss deepened and she pushed into me. With her lips, she forced mine apart and her tongue invaded my mouth.

Her hands cradled my ears, holding my head steady as she kissed me. Her long nails dug into my scalp, and the silk of her dress glued itself to my sweaty breasts and belly. My tongue was all I could move, but with it, I engaged hers in desperate battle. Song lyrics echoed in my head—I kissed a girl, and I liked it; she was delicious.

Finally, she broke the lip lock and pulled back. My mouth followed hers, drawing my head along, striving to maintain contact. I was gasping and still had the touch and taste of her tingling on my lips. She stepped back and said, "Take her to the bed."

Strong hands unstrapped my ankles, then wrists. They held me as they frog-marched me to the bed. Dan's grip was so tight, I was sure I would have to wear long sleeves for a week. The woman said "Lay her down" and I was momentarily airborne before feeling rumpled silk against my back once more.

Her small hands with their sharp nails grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward to the end of the bed. Then she climbed up on top of me and slid forward, the silk of her dress skimming my thighs. I twitched lightly—it tickled. She stopped when she reached my middle, and lowered herself until her pussy was rubbing my mons. I started to reach up for her, but she grabbed my wrists and forced them down to the bed. I was sure my slight mound was a poor substitute for something harder, but then she crept forward, one knee at a time, until the intense musk of her sex filled my nostrils and told me that she was poised above me. Her weight held my hands immobile as she lowered herself onto my face. I launched my tongue upwards to meet her as she ground herself into my mouth.

The bed moved under me with the weight of another person and then strong, beefy hands grabbed my ankles and hauled them up. He slung them over his shoulders and moved forward, lifting me into position.

I tried to keep my attention on Claire as she writhed on my face, drawing her pleasure from me, but being impaled by a telephone pole is distracting. I tried to shriek and thrash my arms free but Claire just settled her weight more firmly on me and held tighter. "That sounds like Dan. Girls always scream for him."

Then she lifted herself, slid the blindfold off and locked eyes with me. She said in a voice that belied her gentle face "Don't ignore me, girl. Dave's a softie, but I

do

know to use the hardware. If you haven't made me come in 5 minutes, you

will

regret it. That crop is a toy, but there are some serious tools on that wall. My clit, girl, my clit." And with that she lowered herself back onto me.

I desperately searched for her clit with my lips and tongue. I didn't doubt her; if I didn't give her what she wanted, I would regret it. I tried to focus on different things that I hoped would get her off—swirling my tongue over her nub, kisses, grinding into her. I had no experience at this and was trying the things that I knew I liked while trying to read her reactions. Perhaps focusing so intently on feeling and tasting Claire kept Dan's monster from hurting as he shoved into me, but surprisingly it didn't quite hurt. Oh my god, no, it felt too good. I'd never taken a cock that big and I wouldn't have believed it could fit—after all a woman's body had to work for hours to prepare itself to agonizingly pass a baby. And Dan looked almost as big as a baby! But I found myself being sucked into the pressure in my womb. For a second I lost myself in it and had Claire not pinched my hands and shifted her weight I might have forgotten about her entirely. I struggled to return my awareness where it needed to be. I didn't want to experience "serious tools."

My psyche was split—it wanted to settle in my cunt and just revel in being fucked—Dan felt amazing—but Claire was a danger. I floated for a timeless period, struggling to hang on, fighting to bring Claire off. The thought flitted that I had to finish her off in time to save my ass so that I could just enjoy Dan for a while undistracted. But if it weren't for Dan's battering and the threat of swung leather I could really enjoy this—the softness of Claire's skin against mine was delicious, and the taste and delicacy of her vagina were exquisite novelties. But I could hear the timer ticking: tick, one lick closer to a licking; tick, one second closer to a stinging. But before the bell tolled for me, I felt her legs tighten and begin shaking. I tried to swirl my tongue around her clit one more time, thrust up into her as hard and as deep as I could and then dragged my tongue back out and hard over her. She bucked and gasped. I had won!

I held my tongue in place on her clit while she came down. She swung off me. With an evil leer, she said, "That was 5 minutes and 10 seconds—you owe me." Oh Fuck. Then she smiled and said, "but I'll let you off this time." Then she leaned down and kissed me.

Free now, I pulled my legs off Dan's shoulders and wrapped them around him to hold on. He was galloping and I needed stirrups. He still looked like a grizzly, but he fucked like one too; pounding so hard that even his chest hair was flapping. He had his hands on my hips to hold me steady but I was being tossed like Dorothy's house in the Wizard of Oz. I was certainly not in Kansas. I was only vaguely aware of blurred images—Claire on her knees in front of Ken; my master Dave holding his cock and swigging from a bottle. An ungodly keening—was that being torn from my throat? Was the Neanderthal grunting Dan about to come? With a roar, he erupted like a Saturn V and I felt I was being launched by the blast of semen shooting into me.

But then his rocket shrank quickly and disappeared, leaving just a cumtrail to mark its passing. I was still in a daze, not having quite come, but being oh-so-close. I lay there panting, coasting down off my sexual high, but feeling somewhere between over- and under-fucked. Pounded to pieces, but not finished; slightly dissatisfied and thoroughly used.

The next thing I was aware of was a warm body cradling mine; it was Dave, my master. He said, "I sent them away; they had their fun. I want to finish this night solo, and you belong to me."

Oh, gods—was the night not over? Nope. Hands were stroking me, and there was a hardon sticking me in the back. I was sure I'd seen Dave masturbating while Dan fucked me, but I guess he was saving himself for at least one more round. I was so worn, but I still wore his collar. So, I rolled toward him, snuggled up, embraced him, and nibbled his ear.

"Welcome back Master" I whispered, "I missed you. And it feels like you missed me."

I reached down to stroke his cock, "How may I take care of this?"

He rolled up on top of me, trapping my hand against him. Then he pushed up so that he could look at me again. "Now you do look a mess, but you are still beautiful."

With that, he proceeded to make love to me. Yes, to make love

to

me. He leaned down and kissed me tenderly before sliding off to explore my body with his hands, lips and tongue. He twirled my hair with one hand while he held my left breast to his mouth, nibbling, sucking, licking the base. Then he worked on my right breast, and while he did that, his left hand stroked down to my belly, my mound, my pussy. He slid several fingers into me and played, while he stroked my clit with his thumb. Then he slid further, butterfly kisses along the panty line. Then lower yet, licking my clit—was he really going to eat the mess his friends had left in me? Sloppy seconds, trashed thirds,

filthy fourths

? He worked around the marshy mess and instead tasted my inner thighs, licking, softly biting, caressing. He explored all the way down to my feet, fitting his mouth into the arch to kiss me there and even sucking on my toes. With that, I was clutching my head in my arms, wriggling; OK, I am ticklish between my toes. He bit down on my right big toe and then pulled away, before looking up at me. "Cute polish" he murmured, "it goes with your hair."

Then he worked his way back up, sliding against me, petting me with his skin. As he got to my loins, he did stop and to my amazement, dragged his tongue across my pussy lips and dove briefly between them. He had to be eating at least some of his friends' cum but he seemed fully focused on me. On experiencing me. He moved slowly up before kissing me again, a passionate open-mouthed kiss. And yes, there was the taste of cum on his tongue. He slid into me again, slowly, languidly, almost politely.

"And your body tastes wonderful—lightly sweat-salted. You are delicious from top to toe."

"Thank you Master" I murmured. "That was lovely." I reached my arms up to him, to stroke his arms, back, and chest as he rocked, barely fucking, more just enjoying the warmth of being inside me. We lay like that for several minutes, relishing the sensations, gazing into each other. This was not what I had expected when I first walked out on stage. I had expected to be taken and used; I had not expected to even "have sex," let alone anything as far along the path to "making love" as this was. I could really see dating this guy. Mostly he was sweet. And a good lover. Really good—uninhibited and with a sense of humor. What more could a girl ask for? A cock like Dan's? Nope. I'll take Dave. But I would hope to end up in bed with him like this after a nice dinner and a movie instead of a gang bang by his buddies. And the fucker

bought

me! Would I really date someone who would buy a woman? But then, would

he

date a woman who would auction herself off to the highest bidder?

My breath was getting tighter and my skin pricklier. He too, clearly was feeling it as he sped up. We slid back down through having sex to just plain fucking. But it was awfully nice fucking. Breath gasping. Sweat drops flying. Hips bucking. Eventually, spasming and shaking, I stumbled over the finish line of orgasm and came, a little. Soon after, he too staggered over the edge, pulsed once strongly, twice more weakly, and collapsed.

We lay there for a few minutes while I struggled to breathe with his full 180 pounds flattened on me. Eventually he rolled off, still puffing quietly. I stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds and then rolled up on my left side, facing away from him. He reached over me and kissed me between the shoulder blades.