Glancing over her shoulder uneasily, Nathalie's heart palpitated. Framed by the lush boulevard oak trees on either side of the Norman Rockwell-like suburban street, an immaculate blonde schoolgirl wrestled with her over-stuffed backpack full of books. She comedically fumbled to unlock her front door. It was Vera Malane, her daughter's classmate.
The screen door clattered shut over at Vera's house.
She shuffled through the mailbox full of daily bills and junk mail, but one letter was clearly out of place. Clandestinely tilting the face of the taupe envelope back exposed a large scribed letter "N." Nervously clutching the envelope to her chest, Nathalie glanced to verify that no one was watching her.
Hastily tossing the rest of the mail onto the foyer table, Nathalie pried the blood red wax seal from the linen envelope. Unfolding the letter revealed an explicit set of instructions along with an address to a house in the notoriously high crime area of Hazelwood. The list was vulgar and graphic. Wetness oozed indecently within her folds.
I should just stay home. Nathalie lifted her grey skirt pushing two fingers beneath the elastic of her white lace panties. The engorged nub responded to the slutty kneading by coating her fingers with a syrupy clear pleasure. She brought the glossy moistened fingertips to her tongue tip. I want this.
Nathalie looped her tongue around the digits and inhaled her scent lustily. Mrs. Beaumont sucks a good cock.
She ovaled her lips and greedily suctioned the two fingers, completely unaware that the front door to her house had been left wide open.
Nathalie Beaumont oozed sexuality. To Vera, her best friend's mom's prudish conservative dress and mannerisms were the epitome of beauty. Voyeuristically peeking between the slats of the living room blinds, Miss Malane humped her pelvis against the couch armrest. If Veronica Lake had a distant relative that had inherited her genes, it would certainly be Mrs. Beaumont.
She's fingering herself. Vera bit her lip and shamelessly forced her pubic mound into the leather armrest. Doesn't she know that anyone walking by could see?
An alert chimed on her phone.
Vera quickly thumbed a text reply; ":P YES. She has opened the envelope."
Impatiently, she tossed her phone back onto the leather couch, glanced up and pursed a frown. Damn she closed the door.
Her phone chimed again. A rush of anticipation stirred once again as she read the text;
"Now my control of her pleasure and your service to me shall take place."
--
Hours inched away to twilight when Nathalie finally reached the depressed neighbourhood of old Hazelwood. The address led her to a dilapidated wood clad three level Queen Anne squashed between two warehouses. Her spiked heels nearly ruined, as she charted a heaved, broken shadowy sidewalk bordered by overgrown patchy crabgrass, around the side, then back of the house, all the way to the lower floor entrance. She fought hard to get the unwelcoming basement door ajar. It complained loudly as it swung into the rock floor entrance, bashing the wall with a thud.
Conscientiously, Nathalie shouldered the door closed and attempted to lock it behind her. The sagging wood door would not cooperate. The old latch clicked over and over again frustratingly, until finally she was able to get it to engage.
I'm here. Anxiety knotted her stomach. WHAT am I doing here!
Nathalie tensed and squeezed her thighs together prudishly.
Ohhhh! Her moist freshly waxed folds skated indecently, whetting the black lace panties.
Yes, I am here! With one hand instinctively on her lower abdomen, she scissored her thighs and surveyed a surrounding assortment of bindings, sexual devices and toys hanging from a rack on the concrete basement wall.
I must do what Mistress told me. Piece by piece, Nathalie removed all of her clothes, except for her wet black panties. If her husband ever found out where she was.
Greedy fingers slipped over her pubis and parted her cleft. "Ohhh" Nathalie squeezed her thighs together. She was wet like a slut.
Wriggling within their sensuous stickiness, the panties slid over the smooth luscious mound into a swirl of expectation. Her eyes focused on the cast iron hand cuffs and ankle cuffs hanging on the wall.
The cool damp air wicked her perspiration. "Shit." A lusty rush of blood engorged her labia.
Mindlessly, Nathalie positioned her blouse, skirt, and bra tidily onto the robe hooks. Perfectly manicured suburban fingers briefly grasped the menacing and secure texture of the mediaeval style hand and ankle cuffs.
Focus. Remember what Mistress has instructed.
.
Nathalie stood, eyes cast to the floor beside a hand hewn wood plank table. A solitary Hitchcock-like light-bulb luminesced just above her head.
Line Three; Wait completely naked, wearing only the panties that your husband gave you. Ready to submit.
--
The unwilling groan of a door announced that someone had entered the room. There was a tattle tale click of stiletto heels on the cold bare concrete floor approaching. Nathalie lifted her eyes slightly, cautiously.
"Well now Mrs. Beaumont, you seem to be much more of a slut, as opposed to the chaste suburban housewife that you present yourself as." Mistress Elaine surveyed Nathalie with a knowing smirk.
"Yes, Mistress Elaine," she responded properly. Her pussy gushed like a streetwalker.
"On your back slut." Mistress Elaine gave her thigh a quick sting of the riding crop.
Nathalie complied laying on her back. Mistress Elaine shackled her wrists then secured them up over her head. Next, her ankles were shackled.
Nathalie rocked her head to the side as her legs were spread apart and secured. Her cunt juices flowed, whetting the black lace panties lusciously. Soon she would be a slut.
The sound of heavy boots striding across the concrete floor caused her to crane her neck off the table and look.
Next to Mistress Elaine stood a striking male. A black leather mask hid his face, but not his strong stubbled jaw. His chiseled muscular chest looked like it was going to explode from the drawstrings of the worn rawhide vest. Powerful, well muscled arms framed his sexy sculpted abs.
Nathalie stretched her neck up from the table uncomfortably and gasped at the sight. "Holy fuck!" A thick beastly cock drooped in a predatory semi erection between muscled tree trunk legs. His bulging quads were semi covered by leather riding chaps.
"Yes, my dear Mrs. Beaumont, my studly man, Mason is going to ride you like a slut. I thought it quite suitable that he wear riding chaps, don't you?" Mistress Elaine explained, obviously proud of her stallion of a man.
"And look at this big thick nine inch cock," she exclaimed, using her riding crop to lift and manipulate the hardening horse sized penis. "Mason is going to stretch your slutty cunt completely by the time he is finished doing my bidding,"
"Yes, Mistress." Nathalie responded meekly. The sight of Mason's monster cock was frightening, but she wanted it. She wanted to feel it's thickness inside her, laying waste to her soaked pussy.
"Show me the slut's cunt!" Mistress Elaine instructed her stud.
With a swift grasp and wicked sounding tear, Mason ripped the crotch of Natalie's expensive lacy panties wide open.
"Noooo!" Nathalie wailed. How would she explain this to her husband. The sexy lingerie he gave her destroyed.
Mason continued ripping the panties off of Nathalie's squirming body, until they were four small lacy black rags.
"You're a slut Mrs. Beaumont, and we are going to prove it to you," Mistress Elaine stated in a matter of fact voice.
Reality was setting in and Nathalie was losing control. She sighed loudly as her pussy oozed juices all over her inner thighs.
"We have a special surprise for you, Mrs. Beaumont."
Nathalie's eyes opened wide to see a figure walking towards her from the shadowy corner of the basement room. Reality had suddenly changed for the worse!
--
Vera Malane strode towards Nathalie. She was barefoot wearing an extremely skimpy school uniform.
"Oh my god, no," Nathalie muttered. Vera was her daughter's best friend and neighbor, and only eighteen years old. How could Mistress Elaine do this?
Anticipation raced through her shackled body. She was a beautiful young lady. Nathalie moistened her lips. Vera's pert breasts peeked through the opening of the unbuttoned blouse. Her smooth pussy was visible just below the hem of her hiked up plaid school girl skirt.
"Hi, Mrs. Beaumont." Vera sassily chirped. Her blue eyes sparkled with cunning and sexuality as she flicked her long blonde hair.
"Mistress Elaine says I get to help make you a dirty slut!" The nymph-like girl strode proudly around Nathalie and stopped between her legs.
"Oh, look at your cunt, Mrs. Beaumont. You got a Brazilian. It's all smooth, and hairless and, and, and look you are all wet. Wet like a slut!"
"Can I make her a slut now, Mistress Elaine?"
"Make her a dirty whore!" Mistress Elaine handed Vera the riding crop and walked away.
"Oh goodie, goodie, goodie, I'm going to make you a slut, Mrs. Beaumont. A dirty slut!"
