On The Other Side Of The Mirror Ch 04 06

All characters are over 18 years old and this story is solely a figment of my imagination.

My language is Spanish, I apologize for any grammatical errors I may make when translating the stories into English).

On the Other Side of the Mirror 4 of 6

In the half hour drive to the hilly area where you have rented a house, I am about to forget everything that has happened in the last few days, Tracy's tongue and fingers are magical, they play with my sore and swollen pussy after the violent use of the party, causing me one orgasm after another, leaving me so exhausted that you have to carry me out of the limo.

I wake up to feel a touch on my arm, and I get up screaming and scared, so worried that the nightmare of the past few days will continue, that I don't even realize I'm lying on a bed and no longer wearing the hood covering my head.

"I'm sorry to have startled you, Miss Cooper;" a young brunette-haired girl says to me from feet beside the bed, "But Master Scott gave orders for us to wake you up for breakfast."

"Do I have time to take a shower?" I ask the young woman remembering all that happened at Gemma's party.

"You may if you wish, but Master Scott already washed her personally before putting her clothes on and putting her to bed;" the young woman answers me.

I look at the 'clothes' the young woman refers to (a harness composed of several leather straps around my waist, chest and thighs, which covers neither my tits nor my pussy) and I am about to say something to her, but seeing that she is dressed in the same way, I decide to keep silent.

"It's the clothes that all the women wear in Master Scott's house, whether they are slave girls or not;" the young woman comments to me offering me her hand to help me up.

"Are you a slave girl of Scott's?" I ask the young woman after taking a good look at her, calculating that she must be a little over eighteen years old.

"I am not a slave girl, Miss Cooper;" she answers me smiling, "I'm Anya, Master Scott's sister."

The young woman's laughter fills the room, giving me to understand the look of surprise I must have made when I heard what she just said.

"And Scott doesn't mind men seeing you dressed like that?" I ask Anya again.

"Scott is the only man in the house;" she answers me again surprising me, "And he doesn't like anyone being late;" she adds hooking a leash to the collar I still wear around my neck in one swift motion.

"What are you doing?" I yell at her trying to get loose.

"You sure are a slave girl, Miss Cooper, and I don't want to be forced to punish you;" she replies triggering the watch, causing a shock from the collar.

"You're a fucking..." I begin to scream at her, though it doesn't take long for me to become mute and suffer another small shock.

With a devilish grin on her face Anya begins to walk off pulling on the leash, and I decide to follow her so as not to be punished again. We go through several rooms of the house, crossing paths with several women, all dressed like us, although by the tasks they are performing and by the collars around their necks, some are slave girls and others trainers.

At last, we arrive at the place where you are, a large room adorned with antique furniture, and a large table full of food in the center, with you seated at one end.

"Here I bring you Miss Cooper;" says Anya approaching you and giving you a kiss on the cheek, "I think she's very pretty for how old she is, but she's a little grumpy;" she comments provoking your laughter.

Anya leaves the dining room leaving me alone with you, who keeps looking at me, roaming my body with your gaze.

"You can sit wherever you want and tell me everything that happened;" you comment bringing a cup of coffee to your lips.

As I go to sit down, I get a new surprise, all the free chairs have a good-sized dildo sticking out in the middle.

"You can also kneel at my feet like a good slave girl and I will feed you myself;" you tell me without even looking at me.

"You fucking idiot;" I yell at you, though I finally walk over to a chair and get ready to sit down. The dildo is not as big as I thought it would be, but with my pussy sore from my orgasms it takes me a couple of minutes to fully sit up and rest my ass on the seat of the chair. When once seated I try to grab something from the plates on the table, I realize that it's not the dildo that's the worst thing.

Everything on the table, the sweets, the milk, the coffee, all the dishes, are placed so that every time I want to take something I have to stand up slightly on the dildo, pick it up and sit back down, impaling myself again.

As soon as I take the first piece of cake into my mouth, I realize that it's the first thing to enter my stomach (excepting multiple loads of semen) since I was kidnapped on Friday, so I ignore the dildo and start devouring everything on the table.

For the next half hour, I tell you everything that happened, and everything I plan to do with Gemma, Henry and the others. When we're done, you're the first to get up from the table.

"What's the first thing we do?" you ask me smiling as you watch me wiggle my hips on the dildo. "Although I remind you, that for the next few days you are my slave girl and I can do whatever I want with you;" you comment to me.

"Well, I don't know what you're waiting for to fuck me;" I shout getting up from the chair, leaning next to you offering you my pussy and ass.

You grab me by the waist, but to my surprise you don't start fucking me, instead you lift me into the air and easily carry me to a wooden frame I hadn't seen when I came in.

"You are a slave girl and I will fuck you when I feel like it not when you feel like it;" you tell me, easily chaining my hands above my head and my ankles to the floor.

Seeing me bound I start to insult you, and again as happened to me with Anya, my voice is muffled by the collar.

"If you promise not to insult me anymore, I deactivate the collar;" you indicate me, triggering the watch so I can answer you.

"You bastard, you son of a..." I insult you again until you again activate the collar.

"Yourself, the problem is that I'm not going to stop whipping and masturbating you until you beg me to stop and ask me to fuck your ass;" you point at me, "And without being able to speak I don't know how you're going to do it."

I have given myself to you and you have refused me, not in my wildest dreams am I going to beg you to fuck me, let alone my ass, I tell myself as I watch you walk over to the dining room wall and unhook a long, menacing whip that looks familiar and causes me to start struggling against the restraints and screaming silently.

"I see this whip rings a bell;" you tell me striking the air with it, making a sound that makes me shiver. "Kiss him!" you order me bringing him close to my lips. "Him you have to thank for recognizing you, as soon as I saw the Flower of Aphrodite on your back, something made me suspect it was you, and when I discovered the scar on your shoulder, I was sure."

"I have practiced a lot since that day; now I am able to spend hours whipping a slave girl without leaving any mark;" you comment to me, "Although if I wish I can mark your back forever;" you add.

"Although I prefer to use another whip that you know very well;" you tell me approaching the wall again to unhook a different whip.

I see you coming towards me with both whips in your hand, not sure what your intentions are. You stop a couple of feet away and start playing with the handle of the first whip in my pussy, slowly inserting it.

"As tight as I've always imagined;" you point out pushing a little further, until you insert almost fifteen centimeters of rough leather into my pussy. "I'm going to give you twenty lashes all over your body, if you drop the whip or reach orgasm I start again;" you tell me.

The first lash falls on my back, the second on my thighs, you move slowly around me, hitting each time in a different place, my tits, my belly, my pussy. I have tried to keep count of the lashes, but have been unable to do so, and when I receive a new lash and feel my body tense and notice how the handle of the whip escapes from my pussy, I scream again silently.

"You have failed, we start again, although we are going to change toys;" you tell me inserting something hard and wide into my pussy again. "Count for me;" you order me.

"One;" I exclaim not realizing I have a voice again.

"Two;" I cry out as I feel what you have inserted into my pussy begin to throb hard.

"Three;" I whisper with my voice cracking with pleasure.

"Four;" I try to say as my orgasm hits me.

"You have failed again, let's start again;" you indicate inserting the vibrator back into my pussy.

"One;" I murmur getting closer and closer to surrender.

"Two;" I say closing my eyes, searching for the strength to resist without finding it.

"Please Master Scott, fuck my ass;" I beg you completely broken.

You throw the whip to the ground and rip off the shorts you are wearing, revealing a fully erect cock, you stand behind me and grab me tightly by the waist ready to fuck me.

I hold my breath, knowing it's going to hurt like hell, but I don't want to give you the pleasure of hearing me scream, I feel your cock pushing its way inside me and an intense scream escapes my mouth.

It is not a scream of pain, but of pleasure, it is not my ass that is stretching your cock, but my pussy wet and lubricated by orgasms, I am not in hell as I expected, but in paradise, in a paradise where sex and pleasure are the most precious gift.

Without stopping fucking me you release my restraints, and you grab my waist again and lift me off the floor, doing the opposite way than a few minutes ago, bending me over the table to place me in the same position in which I put myself and asked you to fuck me. You continue to fuck me, each time with more force, taking your cock in and out with each movement, until on one of the occasions, when you put it in, you change the hole, introducing it in my ass, an ass that without realizing it you have been lubricating and preparing.

Time seems to have stopped, you move from my ass to my pussy and vice versa every few movements, the sex is intense and neither of us want it to end, when you cum in my pussy, finally concludes something that began seven years ago, something we both wished had happened that day and what we did not dare. When you grab my face and give me a passionate kiss as you release your last load, I can't help but wonder what our lives would have been like if we had done this then.

"Come on Christine;" you tell me bringing a hand to my neck, removing the collar. "We have three slave girls to play with."

Silence fills the dining room, as if something has suddenly disappeared, and as I follow you in search of the three slave girls, I can't help but think, this was the first and last time we fucked, although given the kind of life we both lead, maybe it's for the best.

To be continued...