Melissa's New Position

Melissa found her flight uneventful. She napped through the majority of it, finding herself tired and sleepy. She was the only passenger on the flight, and the pilot stayed in the cockpit. She spoke to him a little a couple of times, asking a few questions, but she found that she preferred to spend the time alone. When she was not sleeping, she was thinking. Largely wondering just what she had gotten herself into.

Her parents had died right before she graduated from high school. She was an only child, had no relatives that she knew of, and what her parents had in assets pretty much equaled the debt that they owed and what it took to bury them. She managed to graduate, but found herself stranded in the sea of life. She had a secretary job, though she was not terribly interested in such work. It barely covered her little efficiency apartment and what modest expenses she had. She had few friends, and did not get out much. She was depressed, though she did not know it at the time. Overall, life had not been very good to her, and she was easily impressed by Roger.

She met Roger at a bar on a rare excursion out with a co-worker from work. He told her how beautiful she was, made her feel good about herself, and convinced her that he was a great guy. He was attractive, was financially successful, and she really enjoyed his attention. The relationship moved very quickly, and before long she accepted his offer to move in with him.

She was relieved to have the pressure of making her own way taken away. He had a very nice house, and it was not long before he told her that he would like her to quit her job and stay at home to keep house for him. She welcomed the chance to get away from the nowhere job that she had just like she had welcomed the chance to get out of the small, unpleasant apartment she had had.

He made some demands on her, expecting to have meals cooked and the house clean, but that seemed reasonable to her. She did her best to make him happy. And initially, it seemed like she did. But as time went on, it seemed as though she could never actually please him. She tried, but somehow success was always partial or just out of reach. She understood that she needed to keep trying, and that if she got it right, she would then be all right. He would complain about her cooking, and even if it was something he had liked at one time, he might be very critical about the same thing another time. He found fault with her housecleaning, and would actually do a sort of inspection sometimes when he returned from work, always finding things she had failed to do to his satisfaction. He would point out how well he treated her, how he was taking care of her and all she had to do was such simple work that she could not seem to get right. He disapproved of her friends, and did not want her going out. She only had a few friends anyway, and not very close ones, and it was not long before she was isolated from them.

She was busy full-time trying to get it right, trying to make Roger happy. She seldom got any real praise, and became satisfied if he was just not critical. Eventually, he took to telling her to strip and he would put her over his knee and spank her naked bottom for her offenses. Sometimes he would even use a paddle, and she would be expected to apologize for whatever misdemeanor he had accused her of every time.

She was expected to be available for him sexually at all times. Things got worse not long after she moved in, but by the time she had lived with him a year, she had learned how to work in the system, and while she seldom got it right, she learned how to avoid any real severe punishment. She adapted pretty well, and didn't see any place to go to get away. All and all, things were not that bad. Or so she told herself. Truth was, she did not have any decent alternatives.

Melissa was pretty sure that it was his having found a new woman to have move in that was behind his kicking her out. He had always kept erratic hours, but in the few months before he threw her out, he had been gone a lot, and had treated her particularly badly. He had tied her up more than once, one time using the paddle on her until she was red all over her butt and legs, and twice using his belt. Each time, he left her tied for the remainder of the night.

He was calmer and more gentle following a night like that, but she was bruised for days. She tried and tried, but whatever it was she did it was the wrong thing. Finally, he simply came home one evening, took one bite of his supper, threw his fork down and said "That's all I can take. Get out."

Melissa stared at him. In a way, she thought that he would never let her go. But to be thrown out? He stood up and said "Now!"

She backed away, and started for her room. He followed her in and continued to shout at her, warning her to get out now. She took a few clothes, threw them into a bag, and ran for the door. He grabbed her arm as she went by, and he told her to never come back or he would see that she regretted it. He told her to give him her key, which she did. He told her she was worthless, disgusting, and that he couldn't see what he had ever seen in her. He shoved her toward the door. She stumbled, turned, and left.

She found a motel that night. She had little money, and she carefully conserved that until she could find a job. Only she couldn't find one. Not until she found this one. It seemed ironic to her that she was receiving more respect and courtesy in her position as a "sexual plaything" than she had gotten from Roger for years. She was contemplating this when the plane began to descend for landing. She would be arriving at her new residence quite soon.

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"Very nice to meet you."

Ron, the man who kept the entire place running, held out his hand to shake hers. Melissa took his hand, feeling awkward as she was introduced to this man wearing the thin satin robe that constituted her entire wardrobe. Better than being naked as a jay bird. He was wearing a pair of shorts but no shirt. He was fairly tall, deeply tanned and muscular. She found herself looking at his chest and the dark brown hair there before looking down at his shorts, and then his legs. She found it difficult to look him in the face.

She merely replied "Hi. Nice to meet you, too," though she only met his eyes for a brief instant. He appraised her closely, looking her over, clearly experiencing no embarrassment of his own.

"Well, let me show you around some. Come down this way. Your rooms are right off of this hallway, and then the living room is over here."

He continued to point out different rooms of this large, elegant building as though he was a casual tour guide, but Melissa's head was spinning with the whole situation, and did not really hear all that he was saying. Again, she wondered what she was getting into. It was not until he had showed her several different common rooms, numerous bedrooms, and the kitchen, library, and dining room, all of which were pretty good sized and very well appointed, that he brought her to the "play room." There were various contraptions that were clearly used for restraint and display, and she knew with a sinking feeling that there were likely to be more "kinky" times than she had expected. A sinking feeling and another bump of anxiety.

Her own room was small, comfortable, and she liked it immediately. There was a bed, a stuffed chair, and a mirror. No closet and no dresser. No need for these. There was a small shelf by the mirror, and on it were several different kinds of makeup, a brush, and similar items. Attached was a bathroom, nearly as large as the bedroom, and nicely appointed with a large bath, a separate shower, even a bidet.

She wanted to sit on the bed, to be alone for a bit, but Ron said "You can come back later. Let's get the prep work done so we can relax," and walked out the door. Melissa had no clue, but she followed him as he left the room. He led her down the hall to the "play room."

There was a sort of bench or table over in one corner of the room. The top of it was upholstered in leather, but it was shaped strangely. On one end it was about 16 inches wide, but at the other end, there were two narrower arms that made the whole thing look a bit like a "Y."

Ron said "Here we are. This is the 'wishbone.' Let me take your robe" and led her to the table, to the crotch of the "Y." The subtle humor in the name escaped her for the moment, though she would think about it later and get it all too well. Instead, she just handed him her robe, again naked in front of a another stranger. There was a short stool she had to use in order to be able to get up to sit there, which she did.

Ron pulled up another stool, one he could sit on, and took out the leather bracelets from her bag, which she had still been carrying when she followed him on the "tour." He put the two on her wrists that went there, and then snapped the locks shut. They were soft leather, and were made of multiple layers sewn together. Each bracelet fit snugly, but not tight. He repeated this procedure on the bracelets for her ankles. All the while, he talked about life at the Lagoon, giving her something to think about besides the feelings she was having about having been fitted with restraining devices. As it was, the latter demanded most of her attention anyway, and again much of what he said escaped her.

"There will be situations where it will be necessary to restrain you, though that will be only to make you more accessible or to make the scene more erotic. You might be uncomfortable some times, but you will not be physically harmed. Just having the bracelets on, especially since you are wearing nothing else, really makes you look hot. Appearances are a big thing in all this, as you can imagine. People get really turned on by knowing that they can control a beautiful woman sexually, that she is available to them in any way that they want. As you probably know, you are a big reason why people will want to come here. We will do everything we can to make you sexually appealing. Not that you need a lot of help," he added. "We will get you tanned more, and with exercise you will become firmer. Right now we are going to clean you up a little and add a little jewelry."

It felt funny to have her body discussed that way, especially the part about becoming firmer. That felt a little like she was not good enough, and she was thinking about that when he asked her to lay back, which she did. It was slightly uncomfortable having laid back and still having her legs hanging off the front of the table. Ron clipped her wrist bracelets to hooks down on the sides of the table, puling her arms nearly straight. This pulled her shoulders down a bit and caused her breasts to stand up more. He then took her right leg, and straightening and pulling it to the right, attached it to a strap set in the end of the leg of the apparatus. He did the same with her left leg and tightened the straps a little so that her legs were straight. He then adjusted something on the arms her legs were on that allowed him to spread them more, resulting in her legs being spread quite wide. It was hardly a modest pose, though modesty seemed to have been abandoned altogether by this point, and she wondered why it even occurred to her. She could not see what he was doing after that, and was beginning to be anxious about it.

She figured that he was going to shave her pubic hair, and she thought that he might take advantage of the availability of her vagina, or perhaps her anus, but she was not expecting what he did do. She felt something pushing at her anus, but it was not his penis. It was some kind of phallus, like a dildo, and it was pretty long, though not as thick as the penis that had been stuffed there the night before. It was well lubed, but she still felt the pain of its entry, and caught her breath as she tried to accommodate it. Her anus was still quite tender and sore. And tight.

He paused after it had entered her, and allowed her to relax before he shoved the entire greased shaft deep into her. Again, she had to make herself start breathing again. She had just begun to relax a little when she felt the phallus pushing down slightly, pinning her to the table. Ron had secured the thing to the table somehow so that it held her that way. He then tightened the straps more, pulling on her legs so that they were held straight out, and so that they pulled her onto the phallus all the way. The flare at the base of it was firmly against her bottom. Her legs were spread so that her sex was quite open and exposed. She could not move her bottom an inch.

She was working just to keep breathing. She felt as powerless and helpless as she ever had. The phallus was so invasive and it accentuated her feeling of powerlessness. Being bound by her wrists and ankles felt that much more confining. She did not have even the slightest bit of control over anything; she could not move her arms, her legs, or even her torso, and her arched back thrust out her exposed mound. Her tits stood up pointing to the ceiling. She could not see Ron very well, and then only his face. Whatever his hands were doing were out of her sight.

She felt, rather than saw, the scissors beginning to snip away her pubic hair. He had stopped talking now, and seemed to concentrate on his work. She then felt him apply a hot wax and it became clear that it was not a shave she had to look forward to. He added some kind of cloth to the wax and then removed the cloth, wax, and her hair in one motion. It hurt like hell and she yelped a bit when it happened.

"Sorry. I know it is uncomfortable. It won't take that long, though. Hang in there."

As though she could go somewhere. . .

He repeated the wax and remove process nine more times. She did not enjoy the last any better than the first, but it felt good when he rubbed cream on her tender, naked mons. She felt her exposed flesh, free of hair for the first time since she reached puberty, cool in the air. It felt very strange to her, and she was trying to decide what it was like, when she felt something very different.

Ron had taken her clitoris between thumb and finger, and pinching it, pulled it up. It felt good, in a way, but it was also an uncomfortable sensation. The feelings shifted to not a bit good and much more uncomfortable when she felt some kind of clamp pinching her, squeezing her clit and pulling it away from her body. She gasped, but then there was no movement. She saw Ron again go across the small room for something, and when he returned, she felt a cold wash of alcohol and then a sharp pain in the hood right above her clit. She screamed, though because she has having trouble breathing at the moment, it was not a loud scream. More of a squalk, really.

The shock of the experience was almost as great as the pain. He had clearly pierced her, and now was working something into the hole he had made in her clitoral hood. It took him some time to do whatever he was doing, making it connect. She could not move, though her initial reaction when she felt the pain was to jerk away. She could not move her pelvis even the slightest. The phallus held her such that no movement was possible in any direction. Finally, she felt a small click, as the two ends of whatever he had inserted had secured one with the other. Ron stood up and seemed to have some satisfaction with his work. She felt the weight of whatever it was that was piercing her laying on the top of her clit. Ron washed her with what felt like alcohol, and it was very cold and stung a little, adding to the now throbbing pain of the piercing.

Later, once she did not hurt so bad, she would find that the little gold ring with its small ball at the lower end would stimulate her clitoris with the slightest movement on her part, that walking would get it to tap on her clit. All she knew now was that it hurt. She would find out about the constant clitoral stimulation later.

She had never considered that what he meant by adding some jewelry might involve piercing her and now that she knew that it could she immediately thought of her nipples. She wondered if he would do that too, and thought about how it would certainly hurt every bit as much as her clit did. She was pretty certain that would happen next, when he walked around to her.

He came over and stroked her head, gently, kindly, and then stroked her breasts in turn. She was surprised when he walked back to her other end, and removed the phallus. As it withdrew from her, she felt a hollowness, like some kind of vacuum deep in her. She also found it was easier to breathe. Her clitoris was still throbbing, though not as sharp a pain as it was just a few moments before. It still really hurt. He loosened the straps that drew her legs so taught, and then came back around and unclasped her wrists. He assisted her in sitting up, and then removed the straps from her ankle bracelets. She was once more sitting on the edge of this strange table, but now she was shaved clean and had what she saw was a ring through her clit. The ring was golden, large enough for her to put her finger in and seemed fairly heavy. There was a little ball on the bottom. It tapped her clit itself when she moved and, and that made her move very gingerly. Ron helped her down from the table, and the weight of the ring was more noticeable. She walked with her legs slightly apart, not sure how to make sense of the experience.

Melissa had trimmed her pubic hair before, but when she stood up without any of it, she felt more naked than ever. She even felt herself getting red in the face, it so embarrassed her. The ring stood out as well, and its motion bumped her clit and made it stand out in a more pronounced way. Her legs were shaky and felt weak. She was not certain what to say or do, and just stood there, until Ron said "This has made me horny as hell. Would you please suck me off?" Just like that. What an odd thing to say. What an odd way to say things.

Melissa stood there motionless for a moment, and then understood that she needed to relieve him. She really could not say no, though the last thing she wanted to do right now was to suck this man's penis. She was at least glad he had not wanted to enter her vagina, since the ring in her clit would have really screamed at her.

He had not removed his shorts, and she tentatively went over to him and touched them. The band was snug, but it allowed her to tug them down, which she did. She pulled them past his thighs, and they fell to the floor. He penis, though not fully erect, was really large, and she reached out to touch it as though she was afraid of it. Which, truth be told, she was. She went to her knees, and touched the head of his penis with her tongue, licking it and then placing the head in her mouth.

She felt the ring dangling and touching her clit, moving with every movement she made, reminding her with dull pain and some arousal of the fact that it was there. She sucked on him, and drew him into her mouth slowly. He did start to become even harder, and the length of his cock grew as well. She was nowhere near all the way down on him when he reached the back of her mouth.

She pulled out, and slid him in as far as the back of her throat twice more before she tried to get him into her throat. She relaxed her throat, fought the gag reflex she felt, and moved her nose toward his belly and the trimmed dark hair there. She felt his cock slide down into her throat some, but she could not take him all. She withdrew, swallowing and breathing with just his head in her mouth, and then went down once more. Slowly, steadily, she kept repeating this, sucking on him while she pulled back, and relaxing while she slid him in. She still could not get him all in. She reached around and felt his balls from behind, stroking them slightly, waiting for a sign that he was about to discharge in her mouth. Soon, she got that sign, as he started to contract, and she pulled out just in time for him to fill her mouth and not her throat. She swallowed, and managed to keep up with the volume that he gave her, sucking until he stopped twitching and he had been drained. She tasted the sticky fluid that coated her mouth and throat as she opened her mouth to breathe deeply.