Unforeseen

He had to wait for a few moments alone. His skin was still burning wherever the dragon tail had seared across it. His cock still felt like it wanted to burst. The collar was slightly choking him now that Mistress's lap belt had forced him lower. Then he heard footsteps on the stairs. He could only turn far enough to see the entrance to the room by choking himself further into the edging of the collar, but as the pair paused and then the girl disappeared into the bathroom complex, he forced his head around and glimpsed a petite frame, with black cropped hair. Mistress came over to wait for the girl to emerge, tidying things around the St Andrews cross. Finally there were tentative footsteps coming towards them and the girl knelt on the carpet before Mistress, who had turned to face her approach, with her feet in a parted power stance and her commanding hand pointing to the floor.

He could see she had small breasts and was quite slim, almost boyish, although her wide hips dispelled any deep thought of that. She was quite pretty, but pale, he had thought, before her face was folded into her submissive pose. She was positioned side on to him, so he couldn't see any more, but was tantalised to think that shortly she would move and then would reveal herself.

Mistress gave a low command -- he did not pick up what she said -- but the girl shuffled around until she was between him and Mistress's feet, facing towards the boots in front of her. Her sex and anus were blatantly exposed to him now, although she was holding her legs firmly together. Even while his eyes were focused on the girl's crease, Mistress spoke again, more clearly audible to him.

"Kiss my boots, girl. And part your knees wide, show your slutty little arsehole and pussy to that male slave behind you. Show him how wet you are already. Come on! Head down, bum up! Present!"

He could sense the girl's reluctance, her embarrassment, but she adjusted her position obediently after some squirming and hesitation. Her head bobbed repeatedly as she followed her instructions. He was entranced by the scene in front of him, wondering for an instant if he was in a porn dream. Then his eyes locked with the cool regard of Mistress, a slight smirk flickering on her face as she surveyed the two of them arrayed before her.

She suddenly moved her foot. "Get up, girl, and stand against the cross. You know the position." Mistress took the several paces that separated them, and reached down to his cock, stroking it to a new level of taut agony. "Enjoying yourself, slave?"

As he watched her being cuffed methodically to the cross just as he had been, he could take in more of the girl's delightful body. Her breasts were modest but quite feminine, just heavy enough to form a slight crease beneath each breast, and with a dark nub in each centre. Her belly was taut, with some muscle definition. She had a piercing in her umbilicus, and he could see another glint of silver where her clit peeked from between puffy outer lips. Her mound was quite pronounced, especially because her pelvis was quite wide and her thighs slim, so the contours it threw were exaggerated by deep creases in her groins. She had little make-up on, her face pale, her eyes wide with both arousal and apprehension as they flicked around her surroundings, finally looking straight at him. Realising that they were looking straight at each other, her eyes darted away nervously to instead watch Mistress's face as she arranged her submissive's pose to her liking.

He thought she was cute, delightful, and his thoughts were flooded with the possibilities of what might unfold as the session progressed. He imagined his tongue lapping up and down that open gash, tasting the arousal in her juices. Then he started wondering whether Mistress intended to have the submissive crouch before his helpless body and service that strangulated cock. He would probably pass out if she brought him to the point of gushing into her mouth, he thought. The cords would largely prevent any emission, so his orgasmic contractions would be epic. And the huge butt plug would stop his ability to cum until his sensory system was pushed quite severely, so he was imagining something well beyond anything he had ever experienced before. It would be like having the first climax of his life all over again. Slowly his attention returned to his surroundings.

As she had done with him, Mistress now stood back from the lovely submissive strapped securely on the St Andrew's cross, regarding her work for a moment, before going for her phone and leisurely taking pictures of them both. She exchanged the phone for a flogger, but came towards him, causing mild instantaneous panic, before she merely reached down and handled him back to full tumescence once more.

"You disappoint me, slave. I thought you would stay nice and rock-hard through the whole session. If I see you drooping again, I am going to make sure you stay standing to attention."

Her voice rose to theatrical volume. "After all, slave, you have a most delectable sight in front of you. It is quite disrespectful to not stand at attention!" She chuckled quietly at her own joke as she turned away.

Then she was back at the wooden cross; back pressing up against the girl's flesh, invading her space, stroking her body and murmuring in a low voice close to her face. He had forgotten his discomforts; they could not break through his fascination with what was happening in front of him, underpinned by his conviction that sooner or later he was going to get a taste -- in some manner -- of the 'bonbon délectable' arrayed before him.

The girl's first cries shocked him, not because they were loud or unexpected, but because her timbre was a lower register than he had expected. He might have anticipated high-pitched mews and moans, like some petite Asian teenager, but she emitted a far more throaty response to Mistress's first whacks, a deep needy growling. Mistress worked the flogger's lashes up and down, left to right, covering her slowly writhing torso with flushed markings.

Again, he was so engrossed in what was going on that he took a second to realise that Mistress had paused and was looking over her shoulder at him. With a wry smile, she reached forward and slid her fingers into the girl's cunt. "Little slut you are, girl; dripping already. Let's see how my poor slave enjoys your arousal."

With that she placed one boot on the platform, leant forwards, and carefully smeared her slippery fingers across his upper lip and jammed them up into his nostrils. The aroma filled his consciousness; tangy, musky spice, yet fresh and clean, just as he would expect from a young girl.

"You are obviously not engaged enough, slave. Your cock is drooping again. I have the perfect solution." She disappeared across the dungeon behind him, and soon the rapid clopping of her heels preceded her arrival before him, carrying metal objects.

"I think you can take 12mm, but let's see here."

It was a beaded sounding rod, perhaps 120mm long, with a ring at the top. She worked it in past the tender narrow point in his meatus, slid it up and down in his shaft, but removed it again. He was wincing at the abrupt treatment.

"That was too easy, slave. I don't want it slipping out and having to reset it. You're not my main fascination right now."

From her palm she produced a thicker rod, dipped it quickly in lube and fed it down his shaft without further preparation. He jerked against his restraints, moaned, and contorted at the rude painful invasion. But she continued without reacting, clipping a fine chain to the ring, feeding it through the D-ring at the front of his collar, and tightening it until his erection was brought up to point directly at the female form facing him. He was humiliated at being treated this way, but thrilled also at being so blatantly displayed. It had been a long-standing fetish of his to be displayed in public, and Mistress would certainly have been aware of it when planning this scenario. A few more vigorous strokes embedded the sound in his shaft, and renewed the turgidity and angry colour in his poor organ. Now he couldn't wait to reach some relief, but he reckoned that was going to be a while off.

Mistress returned to the subbie, who had been waiting motionless in her bindings. Once again, her body was subjected to stroking, slappings, her nipples pinched and rolled, her labia gripped and pulled, her vulva opened, the soft inner flesh of her thighs slapped hard enough to have her whimper. The treatment was obviously intended to humiliate her in front of him, as well as arouse her before the next session of impact play. Mistress fed all her wet fingertips into the submissive's mouth, forcing her to submit to the invasion, before wiping them clean on her cheek.

The next implement to be used was a slim tawse of supple red leather, one of Mistress's favourites. She started off gently, slapping the girl's breasts alternatively, waiting each time for her response, then striking again, varying her strokes so that there was a melody of impact and vocal responses, a duet played by dominant and submissive. He was struggling now; the stainless sound was creating agony, the ring was stretching his peehole upwards, but the tip was pressing down into his shaft, which was mildly arousing. Pain and pleasure, layered in frustrating denial. His arms were aching, and his anus felt like it would never return to normal. Each time he tried to raise himself off it, each time the leather belt implacably denied him any relief, it seemed that the plug cone slipped in even deeper. What was worse, every few minutes Mistress crossed to him, still carrying whatever implement she had been using, and stroked his cock to new levels of engorged pain, while the girl gained some time to stop hyperventilating, for Mistress had pushed her repeatedly to the verge of screaming out, before pausing and stroking her body while murmuring to her.

Each time this had happened, Mistress had finished the interlude by slipping her fingers into the girl's crease, working her thoroughly, and then depositing the thick, creamy emissions around his nose and upper lip. And each time she then gave his poor cock a few firm strokes and whacks, returning it to full hardness and distress. Each time the chain from his collar jerked his throat and jabbed his glans with a shock of nerve-endings. Each time he moaned pathetically in pain and frustration, while at the same time dully processing the deep pungency of feminine arousal that filled his nostrils.

The combination of inhaling those aromatic pheromones and being brought repeatedly to the edge of exploding was curdling his brain. How much longer before he would be allowed to savour the taste and dampness of the girl's skin in her groin, to smell her sweat? Perhaps to be allowed to have his tongue right where those musky aromas had come from? He could hardly dare desire that much.

But right at this moment, Mistress was wheeling across a fucking machine in front of his vision, and she placed it before the watching submissive. Then she crossed to him, and his anticipation soared. But all she did was uncouple the chain from his collar, remove the sound, and untied the lace from the base of his genitals. Then she unbuckled the belt and let it drop away to the floor. He was waiting for her to release him fully, but that didn't happen. Instead she returned to the cross and started setting up the fucking machine between the girls splayed legs.

Relieved of most of the source of his discomfort, he became aware that his arse had no sensation at all, even though when he tried to contract his sphincter, the immense perimeter of the cone's base blocked his muscles, and pain jumped at him. Would it ever return to normal? He lifted up as far as the collar would allow, but soon had to slump back down again.

Mistress was sliding the dildo tip repeatedly into the girl's pussy, probably finding its depth and lubricating its sides. As he watched transfixed in a haze of arousal, she fixed the shaft into its base, straightened the machine up, and started the piston tentatively moving. After a couple of cycles, she set a slightly faster rate on the remote control, then came across to where he dully watched her boots approach him, not daring to look up.

"Well, have you enjoyed yourself, slave? Are you ready for the best bit of my creation?"

He managed an eager nod.

From a pocket, Mistress produced metal brightness. His chastity cage.

Surely not, he was thinking, as she roughly manoeuvred his slick bits through the encircling ring then worked the tube cruelly down his protesting shaft. He was not sure if he heard the key turn or not, but she had it in her hand.

Surely not, as she undid his wrists, bringing fresh pain in his shoulders as his arms dropped freely forwards.

Surely not, as Mistress unclipped his collar from the post, unbuckled it and extracted the ballgag from his aching jaws. Surely not. This was just a tease. Now she would lead him across on hands and knees like a puppy before the panting, moaning babe, and he would be ordered to tickle and lick her clit with his zealous tongue while the plastic cock pistoned just below him.

She stood back as he was still trancing this scenario, hands on hips. "That's your part of the session, slave. You did well, I am pleased with you. But we won't need you from here on."

Before he could splutter any kind of protest, she added, "now unhitch yourself from that plug, slave, and make sure to not make a mess on your way to the shower. Just think, you'll have to wait until tomorrow to jerk off to the memory of all this! That truly tickles me!"

As he limped in humiliated frustration towards the bathrooms, he heard her laughing to herself.

"The maid will let you out, slave. And don't bother to try and become a spectator. I'll be watching out for you going up the staircase. See you again soon!"