Mistress Jasmines New Bike

I'd been out for a nice leisurely bike ride and was passing through the Bronx in New York City when the accident occurred. Jasmine, a name that mirrored the scent of her luscious body, suddenly popped out of nowhere in front of me and I had no room to stop. Of course I ended up knocking her over as well as coming off of my bike injuring up both—luckily it was only slightly. I pulled her to her feet and in the process learned her name and I apologized profusely. My bicycle was damaged but not in such a way that I couldn't fix it with a few small tools.

Jasmine asked me if I needed any help.

"No, but my bike is another story. Do you have a small toolbox I could use to fix it," I asked tentatively.

"Well, aside from this incident, you seem harmless enough so I guess it is okay if you borrow some. Follow me," she said.

We arrived at her house a short time later. House, hell, she owned a fucking 10 story building and lived on the top 5 floors by herself. She rented the rest to tenants—very wealthy ones. As we rode the private elevator to her "construction" room it was then that she began messing with my mind.

I had both hands on my bike, not wanting to appear like trouble or as if I was coming on to her, but she had her hands on me. Or so I thought. The contact was so light as if to appear accidental.

Being the gentleman I was raised to be I said, and did, nothing at the time. I must have been totally insane, oblivious or dead because she continued to touch me, to try and insinuate herself into my thoughts. Her subtlety was wasted on me. It wasn't until we reached the floor she wanted to stop on that she threw herself against me hard, forcing me out of the elevator and then began taking liberties with me more than she already had.

What was I to do? Jasmine was a female—and a gorgeous one at that---and I'd been raised to never raise a hand to a woman.

Would I fight back were I not raised to never raise a hand to a woman? Hell no! Jasmine moved like a cat stalking its prey and a very sensual looking one she was indeed. Her long, flowing, ramrod straight, jet black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like Angel Falls. The predatory way she moved, the erotic swing of her hips almost hypnotic in nature, told me she was a woman used to getting what she wants and that she usually gets it without delay.

I followed her where she led me—seemingly unthinkingly—but in reality falling rather rapidly into subspace (something I learned about from her rather quickly). She did not make love to me at first but, rather, ravished my body solely thinking of her pleasure and her pleasure alone. By the time we came to her "playroom", very nice and completely soundproofed, I was completely in her thrall.

No vampire was ever as skilled at holding a victim in thrall as Miss Jasmine was. I simply lost myself just being near her.

Aside from the most beautiful flowing hair Jasmine also had a set of legs like a gymnast, a face like a model and the breasts of a goddess---Aphrodite. Miss Jasmine moved with the sinewy grace of a jungle cat and her focused gaze was just as intense. I was mesmerized by her simplest movement or statement.

As Mistress Jasmine pulled my attention to her I barely noticed as she removed my clothing and strapped me tightly to a large wall of Velcro. I faced into the wall of Velcro and the wall had strategically placed holes in it for my arms, feet, face and cock to go through it. Imagine the sensation, if you will, as my every nerve ending was stimulated simultaneously. The strap that she used to pin my genitals to the wall seemed to vibrate as well. My member engorged as the vibrations passed through it and the pressure of the straps became tighter and tighter.

I could not help but respond to her ministrations, especially after she blindfolded me and, then, after a period of adjustment, plugged my ears as well. One by one she shut down my senses. Sight, sound, even smell where shut down until all I was left with was taste and touch. Her moist pussy was suddenly thrust in my face and I, like a starving man in the desert, had a ravenous appetite. An appetite she worked her hardest to intensify.

Mistress Jasmine used her touch—light and arousing—to intensify everything I felt, everything I tasted, until I'd reached the point of nearing terminal orgasm. Not that she intended to let me actually reach it. With butterfly kisses and caresses just as light Mistress worked her way up my body taking in everything, missing nothing. As she worshipped, for lack of a better term, my feet each toe got its own amazing blowjob.

Next came my calves which she examined intensely. The muscles bunched and relaxed alternately as she worked my body better than any doctor ever could do or any massage therapist ever did. Her skin, soft as melted butter, moved non-stop creating fantasies within me.

My thighs received a similar treatment as Jasmine avoided my most sensitive of all spots. Close Mistress Jasmine came to my cock and balls—so close in fact her mere breath aroused me—but not, at this point, did she touch me with anything other than her warm moist breath.

My stomach, smooth-skinned and toned, felt her tongue caress its every nook and cranny. She especially loved the tremors she set off throughout me as she ate my bellybutton out as if it was a sweet cunt of a lover of hers. The thrashing she elicited would have been much greater were it not for the restraints holding me to the wall.

As she reached my nipples her teeth bit them lightly at first, then harder and harder as I became more and more aroused. The blood rushed immediately into them causing them to swell and tighten upon my chest. I roared, first with pain, then pleasure, as she placed clips upon each of them—clips that also had weights attached to them.

The cool metal of the weights bounced against me as I felt Mistress' hand begin to, for the first time since she put me up here, massage my shaved cock and balls. (I keep them that way because it is more comfortable when riding—cyclists, like Scotsman, don't wear anything beneath their clothing). Simultaneously Mistress was biting my neck and licking my earlobes as she massaged me.

Of course, as always, every time I approached the point of no return she backed off thus allowing my body to avoid that which was imminent. Panting, moaning, sighing I was doing all seemingly at once and my mind was beginning to confuse pleasure and pain with each other. The sensations were akin to the adrenaline rush an adrenaline junkie gets the first time he or she performs a HALO (High Altitude, Low Opening) parachute jump.

Jasmine worked her way around my body like a grandmaster chess player moves around a chessboard. Up and down, back and front, she moved constantly exciting me. Her hair, falling gently across my naked form, in a caress of its own, aroused me, as much, if not more, than her hands did. Silken tresses glided over my skin touching places her hands may not have been able to reach.

After working up one side of my body Mistress Jasmine reversed the process and went down the other side. Up till now I had been able to restrain my urgent needs but release was forthcoming. Unfortunately Mistress sensed it and, before I knew what was happening, something hard and made of heavy plastic was slapped into place over my rampaging member. This was followed shortly by something leather being tied around my very full balls thereby preventing me from making any mistakes—like ejaculating without permission.

Whatever it was that she put on my cock allowed me to lengthen but not to do much else. My girth expanded to fill the restraint she put me in but eventually that became uncomfortable yet somehow stimulating at the same time.

Eventually, though nowhere soon enough for my tastes, Mistress engulfed the head of my penis. As her tongue licked me like a cat licking milk from a bowl I moaned and thrashed in the nearest approximation of orgasm that I could reach—a dry cum, if you will. The sensation alone caused me to pass out. How long that was for I do not know. Time seemed to lose meaning after entering my current state.

Gradually, she had brought me to my current state and, somehow, though I didn't exactly know why, I suspect she kept up her treatment even after my lapse of consciousness. When I revived a drink, cold, refreshing and definitely needed was put before my lips. What it was I didn't wish to know as long as it quenched my thirst.

Alas the drink had almost exactly the opposite affect I expected. Whilst it did quench my thirst for liquid it also seemed to increase my thirst for other things. In other words, my already heightened libido jumped off the charts. Now I have several strikes against me to begin with. First, I am male. Second, I am Italian. And, last but not least, I am afflicted with the male version of nymphomania—a condition called satyriasis.

As my libido increased I could almost feel myself becoming ravenous, dangerous in my desires and Mistress Jasmine knew it. Knew it, heck, she feed that desire, that hunger until my mind receded into its most primitive, primeval urges were all that was left of me. Scent, touch, taste, hearing and sight all heightened and I reached the depths of depravity as deep as anyone could be driven to. How far can one go you ask? Don't! Not unless you really wish to know the answer—and have a very strong stomach.

Day two with Mistress began with me being released from the wall. Shortly after which a metal collar was clamped around my neck, adjusted and welded into place. My weak legs and arms kept me from fighting back—not that I had the will to anyway. Suddenly, my vision returned, albeit slowly, once my blindfold was removed.

What did I see? What could I have hoped to see? What was before me? Simply put a set of triplets—identical—all with long, flowing blonde hair, soulful, penetrating eyes, heart-shaped asses and enormous chests. Was I simply blurry-eyed due to being blindfolded so long? I didn't think so. They appeared crystal clear to me. I began to push myself up off the floor but simultaneously 3 stiletto heels pushed me back down forcefully.

"I see he is in serious need of some training," said the 1st triplet to speak.

"Obviously," mocked the 2nd.

"By me," intoned the 3rd.

"Well," Mistress Jasmine said, "I did only just break him in last night. So, yes, he needs some training and I thought I'd start his slut training immediately."

"Lucky us," they said in unison, "We get to help we hope."

"Of course," replied Mistress Jasmine.

Leaning into my face closely she then told me to do as they ordered or she would flay the skin off of me.

A sudden chill, having nothing to do with the temperature, blew across my skin upon hearing her words.

I shivered in response to her very threat.

As the 1st triplet stepped forward to rate my potential I felt like a prize bull. I was woman handled onto all fours and she worked her way around my body testing every part. When she reached under my ass and tested both the fullness and hardness of my cock and balls she let out a moan of approval.

The other two triplets then rushed forward to see why she was moaning. When they both grasped me simultaneously one hand above the other and realized I was still sticking out nearly ½ a foot beyond their hands they moaned too. My prodigious endowments, aside from being enjoyable to use, have always been a bit difficult to deal with. When buying clothing especially it is like being 7' tall and trying to by a car you can fit into comfortably. In my case all my clothes are either tight and worn commando or custom tailored at great expense.

As the triplets played with me my arousal, already quite obvious, became even more evident as my cockhead swelled to the size of a large apple with the color to match.

As if reading my very thoughts the second triplet quipped, "Anyone want to bob for apples?"

The triplets seemed to smirk simultaneously as if reacting to my confusion. And the smirk was a combination of smoldering sensuality and knowledge of the unknowable. Perhaps they really could read my thoughts. Maybe it was just my body language. I don't really know, but they sure acted like they knew my very thoughts the moment they entered my head.

As proof of their abilities they gave me the most fantastic triple blowjob I'd ever had. (Yes, I've had more than one or two of them) The expert fellatrixes devoured me with gusto both physically and mentally. With movements that were perfect in orchestration and effect they played my skin flute better than James Galway ever played a metal one. One bobbed down on my cockhead while the other two worked me over from the sides. Sisters though they may be they still enjoyed the occasional "kiss" though how real it was I honestly could not say. This show was all for me and how much as acting and how much was real was difficult to tell with my mind addled by the blowjob they were giving me.

This lovely treatment was but the first submission of the day. Next came me being locked into a set of stocks that would have made a Puritan proud. My thighs were spread wide—attached to a spreader bar—then my feet were locked into place to the floor. Access to my head and hands was in the normal manner and, as you can imagine, it was rather full as well. Eight hands massaged my body, eight breasts with eight nipples were dragged across it and four tongues licked me in ways most men can only dream of.

Submission, especially as erotic as these women made it, was something to be yearned for, sought after and given into freely and willingly. I could do no less than that. I offered myself to these lovely goddesses without delay or reservation.

Now I should mention what these sisters were like. The "triple threat" as I came to think of them, consisted of 3 women of incredible beauty—the kind of beauty that seems to provide its own internal light. Each of these women had hair that was nearly floor length and woven into exactly 9 perfectly braided, perfectly spaced braids. My god, they each had their own built-in cat of nine tails on their bodies.

As tight as their braids were their asses were even tighter and twice as enticing. Each woman possessed a lovely pear-shaped tuchas that just made one drool at the sight of it. While they took their time training, as was to be expected I think, they spent a larger than normal amount of time teaching me to massage, manipulate, tease, arouse and finally eat, as well as fuck, those gorgeous globes of female flesh.

The touches they taught me to use ranged from feather light to intense and demanding, from the ticklish to the serious—and I mastered all of them quickly. Now satisfying triplets may be a lot of mens fantasies but trust me it is not as simple as one would think. It is one thing to satisfy an individual woman but to satisfy multiples—and make each one think that they are the only one—now that takes talent. I'd be licking one's ass whilst simultaneously manipulating a pussy with either hand; licking a pussy, fucking another and massaging a third's ass or some other variation at all times. Each Mistress enjoyed my attentions and each, in turn, both pleasured and punished my body.

Mistress #1, aka Mistress Jean, was very much into the pain aspect of domination. Jean caned my exposed ass with such ferocity that you'd think I was someone she really, really hated. The handle of said cane turned out to be an extremely thick phallus-shaped handle which, immediately upon finishing her beating of my ass, she turned around and savaged the self same ass with. Unfortunately for me the ridges on the handle for gripping it almost literally tore me in twain, but that is a story for another time.