This is a five-part series of stories dealing with my infatuation with a powerful man and how I fall under his spell and become his submissive. Each part will stand alone as an erotic adventure but for continuity it is suggested that you read them in numerical order.
I know that readers like to visualise the characters they read about and describing myself becomes repetitive in a series so let me describe myself here. I am 5' 7" tall and weigh 140lbs, yes a little more than I would like. I have full breasts and take a 36D cup bra. I have blonde, spiky hair that sometimes has darker streaks in it and blue eyes. Oh and also I wear glasses.
Love
Jayne
My 'affair' with Lance continued through the summer. We repeated both the undressing and the posing in underwear scenarios and each time he watched me masturbate but he never touched me. In fact he never even kissed me let alone made love or, as he would undoubtedly have termed it, fucked me. I couldn't get my head around why that was but didn't feel that it was my place to question him about it nor, of course, about our whole relationship, well actually, our two relationships, which I termed as 'at work' and 'at play.'
The former was friendly, open, easy, slightly flirty and businesslike. He wasn't smutty or pervy, he treated me with respect and gave no hint of the latter parallel one that was based on sex but did not contain any formal sex. In the 'at play' he was totally different, but then I was too. He became a distant, rather dour, controlling and totally domineering man. As a person he showed me no respect at all although he did to my body, particularly my 36D+ breasts. That's what I felt I was becoming, a pair of big tits with a body attached to it. I wasn't a person, I was an object, a plaything almost a slave and certainly a slut. Not, though, that I minded, it was voluntary and I was an avid participant. My role was to be his submissive, totally and utterly. I acquiesced to him completely. There was nothing contrived about it. I was as willing, eager really to be his submissive as he was to be my master.
I never knew when we were going to have a scenario. He announced it out of the blue and I was expected to comply. He didn't take into consideration whether I had other arrangements or how it fitted in with my personal life but in the end that didn't really matter as I was happy to cancel or change almost anything. Although neither of us verbally expressed our pleasure or excitement at this unorthodox relationship we demonstrated them in our enthusiastic participation.
*
Gradually the content of the scenarios became more extreme and intense. I didn't question that and went along with how he was developing the experiences.
Twice, as it was gettinger dark we went for walks in Regent's Park. Each time I was not wearing underwear. Both times he flashed me by lifting my skirt as we walked along slightly away from other people but close enough that they were able, if they looked to see my legs and maybe my arse. He undid the buttons on the top of the dress and pulled it away from my breasts so that my nipples were on show.
As an example of the depth, or height depending on your viewpoint, of our relationship, another time time I wore just a Burberry raincoat and heels. We met at his house in Regent's Park around six and as often happened he told me to strip down to my panties and tights.
"Put this on," he said, throwing a Burberry trench coat at me. It smelt and looked new. "Now take your knickers and tights off."
We walked through the park, across Marylebone Road and down Great Portland Street. We didn't pass that many people until we got near to where I had an awful fear he was taking me The White House Hotel.
"No Lance we can't go in there," I gasped.
"We can and we are," he replied, gripping my arm.
I knew that we would so there was no point in arguing or trying to get out of it so I spent nearly an hour sitting in the bar naked under the coat.
He called his chauffeur who collected us and dropped him off at his house.
"Stay here I'll get them," he said to me. A few minutes later he gave me my clothes.
"Er what about this?" I asked, indicating the coat.
"Keep it, it's yours," he replied, amazing me as a new Burberry costs the best part of fifteen-hundred pounds.
As Harry drove away from the house I thought to myself. 'Hmmm becoming a whore now as well as a slut.'
My daughter was staying with me and I guessed she would be home so I knew I couldn't walk in the house carrying my clothes so I had to struggle them on without Harry seeing hopefully. My skirt and knickers were quite easy and I didn't bother about my bra but I took big chances putting my blouse on as obviously I had to take the coat off and bare my upper body possibly both to Harry and anyone looking in before getting the Burberry back on again.
As I said goodnight to Harry he smiled and it looked very much the smile of a confidante!
As well as rougher, or more deviant or, as some might call it, kinky practices our sex also became a little more experimental with a touch of BDSM and D/s role playing as well. He would smack my breasts or pussy quite hard and I enjoyed it. He pulled my hair and I enjoyed that too. Just whether it was the pain I endured or the humiliation and abuse that I experienced or the fact I was giving him pleasure I wasn't sure.
One evening just after I arrived at his house he said.
"Go into the bedroom, undress to your knickers and lay on the bed on your front."
As he said that he hardly looked up from his laptop and gave me no further greeting, not even the perfunctory kiss he had been giving me recently.
Naturally I did as he said.
"Put this on," he told me, giving me a blindfold and leaving the room.
I did as he said and laid on my front on the bed waiting for him to return and give me further instructions. I wasn't that surprised when he took ages to return as it let me get used to the sensory deprivation caused by the blindfold. Then, after what could have been twenty minutes I heard him come back in.
Then I felt something cold on my wrist. He pulled that above my head and I heard a click as he clearly handcuffed me to the bed.
"What the hell?" I grunted as he took my other wrist and repeated the action.
"Be quiet Jane, you'll love this."
My ex and I had messed around with tying up a few times, but had usually used my panties or tights, not bloody handcuffs. I had found being restrained quite exciting as he did, but we didn't get too far into it. This, however, was a completely different ball game, for in addition to being manacled I was also sight deprived. I had never had that before and surprisingly, it aroused me.
"Kneel for me," he told me.
I did.
"Keep your face on your hands."
I did.
He began to massage my shoulders in slow, sensuous movements. His hands were surprisingly soft and his touch remarkably gentle, almost like a woman's I recalled from some previous spa massages and one from a woman I became overly friendly with.
This was one of a number of things that I particularly enjoyed with Lance. He has this way of introducing complementary aspects and differences into our sex. Aggressiveness and gentleness, sordidness and decorum and romance with raw sex. The combination of being handcuffed and blindfolded with a languid, sensual, caressing type of massage was a classic example. As were the words he used.
"Your tits look fantastic like that, you sexy, dirty bitch," he said pulling my panties down to mid-thigh but not removing them.
With one hand he gently massaged my back and with the other he pinched my nipples hard making me gasp with the sudden pain. His hands slowly moved down my arms, pausing to touch my breasts softly before cupping them and then, after removing his hand slapping them, again making me jump and gasp with the sharp pain. He moved on to my hands that he massaged not missing a finger.
Maybe wrongly, but I was sinking into a deeply relaxed state as he turned his attention to my back and buttocks. I didn't object or try to wriggle away when he massaged between my cheeks passing right across my anus.
The massage kept moving downwards; along my thighs, past my knees, onto my calf muscles and then my feet. He massaged the soles of each one and then I felt his tongue licking them I'd not had that done to me before nor had anyone ever sucked my toes, one by one and then all five on each foot at the same time.
"Hold this," he said, passing me something that was fairly heavy and cold. "Warm it up."
I held it in my hand pressed against the bed as he rubbed warm oil into my buttocks, thighs, calf muscles and feet. It was lovely. Then his hands were between my legs and he started to stroke my sex. My first impulse was to push back against his hand and open my legs more to give him greater access. I guessed, though, that if I did he would only push me down again so I stayed as I was and revelled in his fingers applying slow, sensual and so fucking sexy strokes to my labia.
My skin tingled when he leaned forward and hovered his body over mine, kissing softly the back of my shoulders. He took the mysterious object from my hands and I felt more oil being dripped onto my back. His magic hands continued their seduction of my skin; I could have purred.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Mmmmm blissfully so," I sighed.
"You need to pull your knees more under you, but keep your head on the bed.
I did as he told me, aware that my bum was very much on display. I felt totally exposed and vulnerable. In addition to the pleasantly erotic sensation of the sight deprivation, I was pleased that I was blindfold for, in a way it gave me a degree of anonymity although I knew full well he could see everything; a female's tortuous logic perhaps!
He covered my back in light kisses and soft licks, gradually moving further down my back. Then, my insides somersaulted when he ran his tongue from the back of my neck all the way down to my clit in one long lick. That was sensational.
He whispered. "Jay, I need you to stay relaxed and not overthink what I am going to do. In a moment I am going to prepare you for the fuck of your dreams, but you must trust me. Ok?"
He said that with that sexy as fuck voice that continually mesmerised me. He could have been saying anything to me and I would have gone along with it. With one hand under me cupping and squeezing my breasts and nipples rather hard, he gripped the slight excess of flesh on my hip with the other. His fingernails dug welcomingly painfully into it, reminding me to work harder at the gym. He licked and kissed from the bottom of my spine to my clit that he sucked into his mouth.
"You are fucking beautiful down here Cat, you have a gorgeous cunt and arsehole."
"Mmmmm," I sighed, probably too far gone to put a full sentence together.
He muttered. "Don't move." Then his mouth was on me. His fingers parted my folds for his tongue to inflict the maximum devastation on my self-control. Licks, kisses and flicks of his tongue all over my pussy and clit quickly had me panting and wanting to plead with him to put me out of my misery and fuck me. But I didn't. I was becoming a junky for his continual torment, but was both pleased and relieved when I felt his fingers sliding up me. I writhed against them in an effort to wring every last bit of pleasure from the penetration. Somehow, he managed to get his tongue on my clit at the same time and that made me feel as if I would cum, and heavily.
Just when my release was imminent, he stopped and removed his fingers. I thought I might explode with frustration until I felt his finger pressing on my anus gently probing it. It went in quite easily, probably up to the knuckle. Then so fucking frustratingly he removed that too. I almost screamed with the loss of that degree of pleasure. Then I felt warm oil being drizzled on to my lower back and gained a lovely sensation as it ran down between my bum cheeks. He rubbed me there including on and just inside the hole.
The pressure on my bottom returned, but it was different and increasing. At the same time, his fingers slipped back inside my pussy and began pumping slowly up and down. That, together with the increasing pressure on my anus created a feeling of sublime fullness that was accompanied by an inexplicable expectation, but I had no idea of what.
The pressure against my vaginal wall was increasing from both sides, but for a moment or two I could not work out how or why. Then it hit me. He was penetrating my anus with either a dildo of some form or a butt plug. Then, of course I realised that was what he had asked me to warm up; it was a butt plug that he made me keep in all evening.
*
