Morning came; sunlight streaming through the window, falling on the pathetic figure of Margaret Harrison, Miss Rich Bitch.
She lay motionless on the floor, still in her corset and stockings.
I sat down on the couch, looking at her. You couldn't have posed her better if you tried. She was on her side, both tits exposed, defying gravity. Her black stockings were dotted with dry cum. She was quietly snoring with a moan mixed in. I had a raging hard-on. I thought, why let this pass when a little more cum wouldn't hurt her.
I pulled my pants down and started jerking off inches from her face, looking at her lying there still in her heels. It was enough to get me hard. She moved slightly, looking up at me with pleading eyes.
"Why are you doing this to me? Please give me a break. I can't take anymore."
I touched her lips with the end of my cock. She automatically opened her mouth, swirling her tongue around my dick. I looked down, smiling at her as she struggled to please me. It was a difficult angle for her to deep throat my cock. It was hard not to cum, with her whimpering for me to stop. My jism was boiling up, and unable to control myself, I let loose.
My first spurt of cum went down her throat; then the rest coated her forehead and cheeks. She started gagging, close to throwing up.
"Good girl, you're getting the hang of it."
She started crying softly.
"How can you keep doing this to me? Haven't you any shame?"
She attempted to get up but was in obvious pain from being manhandled and then having to sleep on the floor.
I still had a hard-on from seeing her lying there, a cum soaked whore. She looked up at me, whispering.
"Help me up. I'm going to get sick."
I smiled, "I told you not to drink too much cum."
I gingerly helped her up, carefully keeping her at arm's length. She was a sticky mess.
She kicked off her heels and staggered to the bathroom. She was quite a sight, hugging the toilet still in her corset and stockings. I took a few pictures and even got some video of her retching her guts up.
They would be helpful for blackmail.
She crawled out of the bathroom and climbed into bed, begging me to leave her alone for a while. Looking at her, I didn't want to do anything until she cleaned herself up. I made a mental note that she would have to change the sheets.
I had work to do. I had two other jobs in progress that needed my attention.
I returned at four o'clock. When I opened the door, I was met with silence. I noticed the dirty sheets on the floor by the laundry room. This was a good sign she had done something without being told. The domestication of Margaret has begun.
I found her in the basement. She was looking for some clothes she had put away. What surprised me was how she dressed: sheer black stockings, a full pleated skirt reaching midthigh, a black garter belt, and killer heels. What caught my eye first was the sleeveless white nylon top and no bra. Those magnificent tits were slapping each other silly every time she moved.
I snuck up on her from behind and reached around her, cupping her bouncing tits. She squealed until she realized it was me.
"I see you feel better; that's good because we are going to dinner."
I squeezed her tits unmercifully, paying particular attention to pinching her nipples, making her squirm, trying to wiggle out of my grip. Finally, I gave her ass a good slap and then told her to get ready. My dick was hard as I ever felt it. I watched her scurry down the hallway and then climb the basement steps. It was childish, but I told her to wait a minute on the steps so I could look up her skirt. She bent over, exposing her panty-covered ass. I ran my fingers up the crack of her curvy butt. She flinched but bent over a little more, giving me access to her mound. I caressed her pussy, feeling some wetness.
"We are going out to dinner, and then when we get home, I'm going to tie you up and use your body the way I want."
She started trembling and whispered.
"Please don't hurt me. You don't have to tie me up."
I smiled coldly,
"That will be up to you and the way you act."
With no warning, I thrust two fingers into her cunt. She screamed out in pain and bent her legs, trying to change the angle.
"Ohhhh god, please be gentle." She moaned.
I slapped her on her cunt and told her to get dressed. She hurried to the bedroom, her braless tits jiggling like crazy.
I opened her bedroom door, and hearing her in the shower, I jumped on the bed, waiting for the show.
I heard her hair dryer, and minutes later, she walked in with only a towel, trying to cover her perfect body. It was impossible to contain those tits. They swayed with every step she took.
She started putting on her make-up,
"I want you in dark eye shadow and pink lip gloss.
And wait till I shower; I want to watch you dress." She sighed.
"Is there anything in particular you want me to wear, Bob?"
"Surprise me, Margaret, but in a good way. It would be a shame if I had to spank you before we go to dinner."
I noticed a look of dread sweeping over her face. She looked at the floor. Barely whispering, "I won't disappoint you, Bob."
I showered quickly, resisting the urge to jerk off. I had a monster load of cum for that face.
I was walking back into the bedroom with my robe on and my hard-on visible.
She had laid out on the bed a pale yellow corset with matching panties and sheer off-black stockings.
She stood still, eyes cast to the floor, her make-up flawless. I let the tension build, then said.
"OK, get dressed, and take your time. But first, get me a drink."
I could see her wanting to put something on beside the towel as she struggled to wrap it around her.
But to her credit, she knew better and kept her mouth shut. Margaret was back soon, trying not to spill any of the drink, all the while losing the fight to keep her overripe tits covered.
She was blushing furiously as she wrapped her corset around her and began fastening the hooks. Stepping into her panties and pulling them up, she sighed.
"Could you lace me up? Just not too tight."
I ignored her and made them as tight as I could. The only sounds in the room were her gasping for air and tugging at her corset. She finally settled down, breathing somewhat normally. The dark stockings were next, and she pulled them all the way up. She was running her hands over her legs, smoothing out any wrinkles. Extending her legs one at a time, inspecting them. She looked at me with a sly smile, saying. "Does everything please you?"
Her corset was mostly lace with sheer nylon panels. The cups were underwired, forcing her tits up while the lace just covered her pink nipples.
All the blood in my body raced to my dick.
Margaret obviously didn't want to go out and risk one of her wealthy friends seeing us together. So she was trying to tempt me. She hoped after we had sex, I wouldn't want to go out. She reached for her spike heels and slipped into them. Taking her time, she bent over from the waist, keeping her legs straight while she fastened the delicate ankle straps on her heels.
I walked over to her, fondling her taut butt.
"Get your dress on, I'm hungry."
"Don't you want to fuck me? I'll do anything you want."
"First, it's not up to you to decide what I will do to you. I know you don't want to be seen with me, but that's too bad. We are going out to eat. Now get your ass in gear."
The look of disappointment on her face was rewarding. She probably had always gotten everything she wanted, using her body as the prize.
The tight dress she had picked out was black with dark blue patterns that emphasized her tits while the hem reached mid-thigh. The scoop neckline showed the tops of her boobs. She really hadn't planned on me making her go out. Seeing a white shawl on the chair, she reached for it.
"Don't even think about it. I want your tits on display. It would be a crime to keep them covered."
I reached over, exposing some of the yellow corset.
"Please don't do this to me."
She pleaded as tears formed in her eyes.
I drove to the center of town; it was busier than usual. I headed for the closest restaurant with valet service. As we pulled up, I noticed the valet was Latino. This should be interesting, knowing that she was a racist. I was driving her new BMW. She hadn't noticed him yet.
"Don't be a prude; give the guy a show."
I said, reaching over and pulling her dress up. She squealed, trying to pull it down, in the process exposing more of her tits.
The door opened; the valet stared at her long legs, her dress up to her stocking tops.
"Good evening, Mrs. Harrison; we haven't seen you in a while. I'm sorry for your loss; he was a good man."
At the same time, he checked out her world-class tits. The manager met us at the door to the dining room. He bowed to us,
"Your usual table?" He asked.
Margaret was clearly nervous here, her cheeks bright red. She walked carefully, conscious of the noise her heels made on the hardwood floors. I noticed as we walked in that more than one of the couples turned in our direction; some of the women snickered. Margaret couldn't look any of them in the eye. Her one-time rich person's swagger was gone as she hurried to our table.
As we settled into a booth, her sliding-in hiked her skirt higher. She was in the process of pulling her dress down when I raised my hand slightly.
"Leave it where it is. I want to see your legs while I'm eating. And so does the waiter."
She was so mortified she couldn't look at anyone, casting her eyes on the floor.
Finally, she whispered.
"Please don't do this to me. I look like a tramp."
Giving her a stern look, I said.
"If you complain anymore, I'll make you walk out of here with your dress pulled up to your waist."
The look of fear on her face told me she would do anything I wanted. A tear ran down her cheek. In a voice barely audible, she asked,
"May I use the ladies' room?"
"Of course, you can, but before you return, adjust the neckline of your dress so I can see more of your tits."
Her Royal Majesty was going to argue but thought better of it; she was learning to do as she was told.
Finishing my drink, I saw Margaret slinking across the dining room. The tops of her cups showed her jiggling boobs. She quickly sat down. She murmured.
