Jd's Surprise

I'm waiting for you at the front door when you come home from work. I notice that you're carrying a small, unmarked gift bag in one hand. I've followed the instructions you left me this morning - I've bathed and am perfectly groomed, shaved smooth, scented, just the way you like me. I stand before you naked, keeping completely still as I wait for you to acknowledge me. You fondle my breast absentmindedly with a freezing hand, pinching my nipple as it reacts to your touch. You hold out your hand to me and, when I slip mine into yours, you lead me to the living room.

You sit down in a comfortable chair and instruct me to kneel at your feet, telling me to move around until you have a perfect view of every inch of my body. You place the gift bag next to your chair, tantalizingly close, but far enough away to stop me from seeing its contents.

The cool air caresses my skin. I have goosebumps and my nipples are taut and erect. The directness of your gaze makes me flush with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. You command me to spread my legs and start playing with myself. I am not allowed to orgasm and must stop the moment I'm on the edge of climax, never taking my eyes from yours. I blush and bite my lip as I shyly start to explore myself with my fingers. I'm surprised at how wet and sensitive I am.

I slowly rub soft circles over and around my clit, dipping my fingers into my pussy every so often to spread some of the wetness to my slippery nub. I increase the pressure. My breathing quickens. I can feel the pleasure building. My cheeks are still red, but my shame forgotten. I nearly forget myself and am about to give myself over to the feeling, but I catch your eye and let out a small groan of disappointment as I stop.

You stroke my cheek. "Good girl." You're obviously aroused, your hard on bulging, straining against the confines of your trousers. You lean back in your chair and pick up the gift bag. After a few moments you bring out something silvery and shiny. Fear laced with anticipation jolts me when I see you're holding clover clamps. They're attached to each other by a thin silver chain which is bisected by a longer chain.

I know my nipples are in the perfect state for the clamps and I try to brace myself against the pain when you lean forward, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. I can never prepare myself for this exquisite torture, but I've learned not to flinch. The punishment would be severe and I hate to disappoint you. Tears spring to my eyes when the second clamp closes over my nipple. You sit back, satisfied, holding the longer chain. I know that even a slight tug will make the clamps tighten and I keep my body very still.

You instruct me to play with myself again, observing the same rules as previously. This time I'm bolder, rubbing myself hard and taking every bit of enjoyment out of it that I can muster. The pain heightens my senses, pushes me to the edge in half the time it took before. I give a low moan and throw my head back in ecstasy. My disobedience is addressed immediately by a sharp jerk on the chain in your hand. Instead of stopping me, the pain makes me moan even louder with a heady mixture of pleasure and pain. I have to stop touching myself immediately and move my hand to my thigh as I look up at you. I can feel my juices lubricating my arse, running down my thighs. I'm panting, aching, nearly crazy with the need for release.

You run a finger across each nipple, cup each breast with your hand for just a moment, run your fingers down my body and slip two into my waiting cunt, pushing up into me forcefully, briefly massaging that sweet little spot deep inside me. I press down on your hand, squirming against you, wishing, hoping, praying that you'll make me cum. You laugh and pull your hand away. I'm flushed, panting, animal-like in my need. You offer your hand to me, and like the obedient pet that I am, I lick it clean, making sure I leave nothing behind.

"Again," you command me quietly. I touch myself for a second, but have to stop nearly immediately. I look up at you, silently begging. You shake your head. I touch myself more carefully this time, stopping every few seconds, willing the feeling to lessen, but every stop is followed by a tug on the chain and only serves to make the need stronger. My breathing is ragged, my eyes half shut with lust and longing. When my body starts to shake and I start mewling pathetically, you give the chain a long, hard pull. I cry out, words are beyond me and you finally let the chain drop and tell me to stop.

You run your fingers through my hair and gently kiss each eyelid. I dread what comes next... the removal of the clamps. "Clasp your hands behind your back." I try to hunch my shoulders forward in a childlike attempt to shield myself from pain. You cup my breast with one hand and quickly remove the clamp with the other. Searing, white-hot pain shoots through me. I barely notice you touching my other breast until the agony spreads. I've bitten my lip in an effort not to scream and I can taste blood. Tears are running down my cheeks freely, but instead of comforting me, you pat me on the head before you get up and walk away, carrying the mysterious little bag. "When you've collected yourself, come to the bedroom. Do not unclasp your hands."

I sink back, letting my bum rest on my heels while I listen to you moving around, opening closet doors. A few minutes pass, but my legs are like jelly and I don't think I'll be able to get up just yet without using my hands for support. As the blood flows back to my aching nipples the tears stop flowing and my breathing returns to normal. I hear the splash of the shower being turned on. Are we staying in? Going out? What's waiting in the bedroom. Curiosity starts to get the better of me and I try to stand up.

I'm dizzy when I get to my feet and my legs are numb. I slowly walk to the bedroom and arrive just in time to see you coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your waist. You walk over to me and press your body against mine, hugging me from behind, pushing your half erect cock against my hands while you kiss my neck. "Get dressed," you whisper in my ear before quickly nipping my earlobe and pushing me in the direction of the neatly laid out clothes on the bed.

I'm still soaked. "May I clean myself first, please?" I ask. You smile at me. No. I carefully slip on the garter belt and perch on the end of the bed to put on the sumptuous silk stockings. You fasten the six straps for me, letting your fingers brush my inner thighs, teasing me affectionately. I put on the black half-cup bra. My areolae peek out above the lace trim, my super sensitive nipples rubbing against the silky fabric. I slip on the low-cut black dress and notice that it barely covers the tops of my stockings.

I look around, but there are no panties in sight. I look at you questioningly. You dip your hand into the bag and a pair of panties appear that are no more than a waistband joined by a string of faux pearls. You beckon me over to where you're sitting and make me slip a foot into each side, allowing me to lean on your shoulder to steady myself while I stand on one leg. You pull the panties up, making sure the pearls are positioned between my pussy lips, teasing my clit.

Every movement makes me aware of my need for release and causes more wetness to gush out of me. I slip on the heels you've left out for me and realise that I'm nearly as tall as you. The heels exaggerate the rubbing even more and I'm not sure how I'm going to survive this evening with my dignity intact. I stand beside the bed, waiting for you to get dressed, wondering, worrying...

We get into the car. I barely kept from moaning during the short walk outside, between the feeling of my nipples rubbing on silk and lace and the evil pearl panties. I know I'm going to soak my dress if I sit on it. The only solution I can think of is sitting on a towel and raising my dress above my hips for the journey. You watch my preparations with more than a touch of amusement. I still have no idea where we're going, but I'll be damned if I turn up looking like I've wet myself.

While we drive you fondle my bare thighs, letting your hand stray to the top of the panties every now and then and pulling on the pearls, letting them cut into me. I stare at the road, concentrating on where we're going, the streetlights, the other cars, stray dogs at the side of the road, anything but your hand.

We pull up outside a suburban house. There's nothing sinister about it. I had started to picture a trip to a dark and gloomy Gothic mansion, but this house looks friendly and inviting. You get out and open my door for me, gallantly allowing me to take your arm as we approach the house. With every click of a heel on the pathway leading to the front door I get more excited. When we reach the door you turn me around to face you. "You're wishing you're allowed to cum, aren't you?" you ask me softly. I can only nod and look down shyly.

You kiss me very sweetly, letting your tongue briefly dart into my mouth until I relax against you. You hold my wrists down at my sides and let met melt into the kiss. I didn't hear the door open. When the blindfold is slipped over my eyes it takes me a second to realise what has happened. I try to move my head, but you have my bottom lip clasped between your teeth. The blindfold is fastened and you push me into the house.

I can hear people moving, breathing, but I have no idea how many there are or who they are. "Be a good girl now. I don't want to have to punish you when we get home." You release my wrists and I stand there, dumbly. Someone tugs down the front of my dress and pops my nipples out of my bra, giving a low whistle as they're freed.

"Very nice. I see you've warmed her up." A male voice. I feverishly try to identify the speaker, but it's no one I know. "Let's see how well you've done." A hand is shoved up my dress and fingers pressed against my pussy. Instinctively I try to fight the hand away.

You grab me by the hair, pull my head back, and hiss: "You will be punished. Hands at your sides." I reluctantly drop my hands.

"Bring her through. Let's teach her her place." Another male voice! You take my hand and pull me along. I stumble after you blindly.

We come to a stop, you unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor. I'm excited, scared, confused. You roughly pull my panties down and guide my hands to a table, bending me over. I can hear a swishing sound and before I can wonder about it too much, the flogging starts. "I think a set of twelve strokes... Can she handle it?"

You laugh. "Easily." Blows land on my back, bottom, the back of my thighs, until my skin's on fire. I recognize your touch when you run a hand down my back, over my bottom, slipping a finger into the crease of my arse. "Stay bent over and spread your cheeks."

I cringe at the though of exposing myself to strangers in this way, but I comply. Someone drips lube onto my arsehole and starts massaging it, clearly preparing me for being entered by something or someone. He slips a finger in, stretching me, before something pushes against the opening. It feels huge, but the person's being very careful not to hurt me while working it in. I'm starting to relax and excitement's replacing apprehension. I know you would never cause me harm.

Once the plug is pushed all the way in, the person wiggles it for a second before telling me to stand up straight. I feel fuller than I ever have, stretched, slightly uncomfortable. I'm turned around and moved back until the back of my legs are against the table. I'm pushed into a sitting position in complete silence, pushed back until the table's edge is halfway down my thighs. The plug pushes into me even deeper. Someone removes my shoes while someone else pushes me down.

I lie down with my hands at my sides, head hanging off the table. I feel a strap going around my middle, tying me securely to the table, cuffs on my wrists being clipped to the strap. My legs are spread and bent at the knees, with a strap being fastened securely around my thighs and shins, keeping my legs drawn up. Once my feet are the correct distance apart, ankle straps are applied and securely tied, forcing my legs to remain open.

I'm displayed, exposed, completely vulnerable. I strain against my bonds when I feel strange hands caressing my breasts, pinching my nipples, moving down my stomach only to be replaced by a new set. Hands moving down my body. I find counting difficult. My nipples are pinched, pulled, my breasts roughly mauled. I have hands touching my thigh, fingers on my clit, in my cunt. I can hear breathing. Someone touches my face, forces my mouth open, shoves a rigid cock into my mouth and starts to enthusiastically fuck my throat. I know my muscles are moving, contracting as I swallow it down and the person can't resist the temptation of stroking my throat, squeezing and choking as he gets closer to exploding.

Someone presses a vibrator against my clit, while someone else pushes a very big dildo into my cunt. I can feel it pressing against the plug in my arse. My throaty moan of pleasure causes the man in my mouth to cum. I feel like I'm about to drown as he fills my mouth. I feel it running over my face, up my nose and frantically try to swallow. With a satisfied grunt he pulls his cock out of my mouth. I'm covered in a stranger's semen, being fucked by another, being touched by another, and another. I feel dirty. Filthy. But it pleases you and I love it.

Orgasm is followed by orgasm, mine, theirs. My throat is fucked, my pussy, my tits are aching, my sensitive clit pinched, rubbed, tortured with a vibrator until the sensitivity turns into one long orgasm. Every thrust into my pussy causes the plug to slam into me in tandem. I'm grunting like an animal, lost in pleasure. At some point I'm sure I hear you saying: "Be careful what you wish for, girl." When the last man has been serviced someone softly and very lovingly cleans my cum covered face with a downy towel. I'm brought to orgasm one last time, but I'm so tired that I barely react.

I have no idea how much time has passed. I can hear people talking and laughing, but I don't care. My restraints are loosened, but the blindfold remains in place. You sit me up and hug me to you tightly, rubbing my back, whispering to me, comforting me. You take off my bra, let me step off the table into my dress, pull it up and zip it up for me. I'm so grateful to you for leaving my underwear off that I could cry. You slip my shoes back on, but I'm so weak that you and your friends have to half carry me to the car. I lean against you, dozing as we drive home. I'm exhausted and forget to ask you to remove the blindfold. Or am I relieved that it's there because I feel used and dirty and I don't want to look you in the eyes?

When we get home you help me inside, undress me and wash the evidence of the evening's activities from my skin while I lie in the bath. When you're finished you wrap me in a big fluffy towel. You walk me over to the bed and lay me down. You gently turn me over and start rubbing my back, tickling my spine, moving down to my behind, going lower with every stroke. "You know," you murmur, "I'm very proud of you." You start massaging my buttocks. "The only thing is," you carry on as you part my cheeks and tap the butt plug, "you haven't satisfied me entirely." I'm purring like a kitten when you pull the plug out, drip more lube into me and start fucking my arse, slowly, hard, deeply, the only place you wouldn't share. I'm proud and content waiting for you to spurt into me so I can fall asleep in your arms with your cum slowly dripping out of my stretched arsehole.