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Miranda's Thesis

36100 words

Style: Male Dom - M/F

Miranda thought of herself as liberal and sexually liberated. She was no stranger to sex, and had had many lovers while growing up and during college, where she majored in psychology. Deciding to do her doctoral thesis on abnormal sexuality, she investigates the bdsm scene, visits clubs, and begins interviewing subjects. But getting into the head of those strange women who get off on being treated badly is difficult for a strong young feminist -- until a handsome shop owner she is interviewing begins to demonstrate exactly what it's all about. Miranda finds her preconceptions turned upside down as she is taught the ins and outs of being a submissive, and experiences the dark, animal hunger and powerful sexual heat of giving up all control of her body. By the time she's finished, her study will have a much more intimate insight into submission and domination!

Price:  $7.00

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God, I was too horny for this! I should just go home, I thought, and try again later. But he spoke about himself, and his interest in the different types of leather, and how he got into making specialty things for a neighbor, then selling them to others, and gradually expanding and opening a shop. It really was quite interesting, and even aside from my horniness he was a guy who was well worth getting to know, either as a friend or maybe as something more.
And so when he offered to drive me home I agreed, even though I figured there was a better than even chance I'd be naked with him as soon as we got there. And why not? He looked like he'd be a lot more fun than my vibrator, which was what I'd be grabbing as soon as I got home otherwise.
He didn't have the usual big SUV. Instead he had a little black Audi sports car, and he drove like a maniac!
“Holy shit!” I gasped, holding the strap up high. “How many accidents have you been in?”
“None so far,” he said cheerfully as the car swerved around a Dodge, then swerved back again. “If you're moving faster than the other cars, you don't really have to worry about what's behind you, only what's in front of you. And I have quick reactions.”
“Bet you have lots of tickets, too.”
“A few,” he admitted.
I gasped as he braked sharply, then swerved again.
“Don't worry, Miranda. You're in good hands,” he said with a grin.
His hand came down on my thigh, very high up, and gave it a squeeze, but was gone again before I could think about pushing it off.
Assuming I wanted to, of course.
We pulled over to the curb and stopped suddenly, and I blinked in surprise, looking around.
“Where – ?”
“My shop. I thought as long as we were passing you might as well have a look.”
“Oh that – .”
And he was already out of the car, leaving me with little choice, really, as he showed up at my door and opened it.
I got out, a bit irritated at his presumptuousness, at his making a decision without asking me, but I followed him to the shop anyway. It looked respectable enough, with a paneled glass door and brass sign. It didn't say “Fetish wear” or anything so crude. Instead it said “DM Morgan Specialty Goods.”
Although it was almost nine it was still bright outside. The store was a little dimmer, though, and I realized as we entered that the big glass window, as well as the panels in the door were tinted. Still, it was light enough to see by, even before he turned on the discretely set overhead pot-lights and track lights. No fluorescent tubes here.
There were a lot of shoes and boots, all leather. All the ones for women had very high heels. One wall had an entire array of mannequins, alternately male and female, and all in a variety of leather harnesses. On the other side of the small store, a similar array, all in other leather outfits, corsets, thongs and jackets, corsets, catsuits and uniforms. Many of the mannequins also had blindfolds, collars, and restraints around their wrists and ankles.
A row of head shaped stands on a table displayed a variety of hoods and masks, and there were shelves of leather straps, and other devices, many of which looked like the things I'd seen at the club. No dildos though, I thought with a bit of gratitude.
“You uhm, do a lot of business?”
“We get by. It's a niche market, and we cater to the high end customer.”
Standing beside me, he slid his fingers lightly along the back of my neck as he talked and I turned to him with a jaded smile. “Measuring me for a collar?”
He grinned back, not ashamed. “I think you have a lovely neck. But a collar or a choker serves to accentuate the face and separate it from the body. And you have a lovely face.”
I moved along with a toss of my head. “Glad to see you have no interest in my body,” I said.
“There are a number of ways of accentuating the body,” he said. “We have a number of such fashion accessories here, all designed for various parts of the body.”
“So I see,” I said, examining a leather cock ring.
I should have been blushing with such obvious sexual gear around, but I felt unusually comfortable with him, maybe in part because he was so unashamed of it all. It was a little like talking to a doctor about medical conditions.
“So do you make everything here?”
“Oh no. The business is too big for that now. If I spent all my time in a workroom making things I could only accommodate a very few clients. I've designed some things which others make. And I buy quality merchandise wholesale to resell, like any other merchant.”
He picked up something from a rack and I stared at it, not sure what I was seeing at first.
It was a strap, about a hand-span wide and quite long. Two straps crossed it at right angles, and were a pair of... well, dildos, one curved, the other straight, actually attacked to the strap.”
“I don't understand how this...”
“This is the inside,” he said with a grin.
“Uhm, oh.”
I blushed a bit then and he chuckled.
“Imagine a woman wearing it to work,” he said.
“Because her master or mistress orders it, or because she wants to have a secret all day, to be aroused, to be excited, to be darkly thrilled at her boring job – or at school, without anyone having a clue.”
I couldn't help thinking about wearing that to class, in my present aroused state, and the thought was – well, exciting, nasty and exciting.
He put the thing back, then pulled out something else, sort of two tubes arranged in an X.
“Slide your hands through here,” he said, holding it before me.
I hesitated, but just for a moment. I was still hot, still aroused, and more than a little curious about what he intended. And you can't rape the willing, right?
I slide my hand through one, letting it settle around my wrist, then slid my other hand into the other one. He tugged on straps and they tightened around my wrists at once. Then, with a grin, he raised my arms above my head.
“See? This is one I developed. It works behind the back too.”
“Very uhm, nice,” I said.
He winked, and motioned his head towards the window. I thought he was pointing towards something going on on the street outside, but as he led me over I saw him reach up above for a chain dangling just above the picture window. He snapped it to a ring set in the leather restraint in a moment, leaving me – bound. I was a bit nervous being in front of the picture window, but it was pretty obvious you couldn't see inside.
“See how easy it is? No complications. Simple gear which wears well. You don't feel any rough spots against your wrists, do you?”
“No I – .”
He was very close, reaching above, feeling for the fit around my wrists – supposedly, but he was looking at me, and I felt a tightness in my chest and a sudden breathlessness as he leaned in.
His lips kissed mine delicately, just for a moment. “And now,” he said softly, “The master can have his way with his naughty little slave girl.”
“I'm not a – .”
His lips pressed more firmly against mine, and it felt – weird, not being able to slide my arms up around him, not being able to do anything. It felt weird but – hot! I felt his arms slide around me, his hands sliding onto my ass, squeezing and kneading my buttocks as his tongue flitted at the entrance to my mouth. I could feel my heart beating faster as his hands skimmed up and down my back and over my butt, his hands warm and firm as his lips moved against mine.
I felt a deep sense of anticipation, wondering if he would take me while I was tied up. A part of me felt an academic acceptance of that, almost like it was a good idea to experiment so I could relate later – anonymously, of course – what it felt like from a personal perspective.
But mostly, I was just hot!
A lot of strange things swirled through my mind as he kissed me. One of them was, well, what if I change my mind? What if I say no? I can't stop him. That wasn't frightening, though, because I couldn't imagine, hot as I was, saying no. Instead it actually aroused me further. I mean, I wanted him to do me, hard, so the thought of him forcing himself on me, given the things I'd seen and experienced that day was actually kind of darkly thrilling.
He pulled back, though, leaving me panting, and grinned down at me, sliding around behind me.
“How many times do you think I can make you come?” he purred, his arms sliding around me, his hands cupping my breasts. I shuddered, for they were already hot and swollen, the nipples aching.
He pressed his body against me from behind, his lips nuzzling at my throat as his fingers kneaded my breasts. He undid the buttons down the front and slid his hands in opposite sides, rubbing my breasts through my bra. Then he undid it and I moaned as my I felt his bare hands against my breasts.
He was grinding himself into my ass from behind, and I could feel his erection, could feel its size. I rolled my head weakly as waves of heat swept up my body, and I shifted, but was pulled up short by the restraints. The ever constant reminder of my bound state drove my heat even higher, and I knew it would take very little to make me come.
He proved that a few moments later as his right hand slid downward, undid the clasp at the front of my trousers, and plunged inside. The feel of his fingers as they pushed unerringly into my thong and stroked across my clit sent me over the edge. My hips bucked frantically as I let out a strangled cry of pleasure, and he bit into the nape of my neck and crushed my breast in his other hand as his fingers rapidly stroked across my burning clit.
I writhed in place, helpless, hips bucking and jerking, body arching and twisting as he rubbed me right through the orgasm. I felt – overwhelmed. My head jerked back, my body shaking violently as the force of the orgasm tore through me like a long, drawn out explosion. Then I sagged weakly, but was still held in place as he eased back.
He moved around in front of me, grinning, then kissed me again, softly. His fingers finished undoing my blouse, then he sank downwards, gripping the waistband of my pants and tugging them down along with my thong.
I blushed a little, though I'm sure my face was already so flushed he wouldn't notice a thing. He gazed at my pussy from his knees, and I felt a sense of pride at the lust in his eyes. Then he tugged my pants down around my ankles, lifted my feet up one at a time, and pulled them off, along with my shoes.
I looked nervously at the plate glass window. The street was right outside, and cars were passing back and forth, sometimes pedestrians too.
“Legs apart,” he said, his hand reaching behind me and slapping my ass.
I gasped a little, shifting my legs apart as his fingers caressed my thighs. He kissed one thigh, then the other, up high, on the inside, then licked and sucked lightly at the flesh for a few long moments before turning his attention higher.
You know, I put a lot of time into developing my oral sex skills, and had often been impatient with men who hadn't bothered. A lot of men, kind of suck, pardon the pun, at licking pussy. Derrick was not such a man. He started in slow, circling, avoiding the most sensitive parts as I recovered from the climax. He mouthed and sucked and licked at my pussy lips, spread them gently, and eased his fingers slowly up into the mouth of my sex, pumping them in and out slowly as he circled and teased my clit lightly.
And while his actions would have been exciting if I were laying on my bed, standing with my wrists bound in front of a plate glass mirror looking out onto a busy street just about doubled the level of excitement. This was the kinkiest thing I'd ever done, and my body was primed for it from the events of the day.
When Derrick kissed my clit, he let his lips push in slowly and softly around it and began sucking as his hands kneaded my buttocks. I felt my hips jerk involuntarily at the intensity of the sensations his mouth was rousing inside me. I moaned and pulled against the restraints instinctively, and was again reminded that I was tied, bound, held helpless. I rolled my head back, moaning, feeling my hard, sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric of my loose blouse as he sucked and licked at my clit.
I wanted to – to move – or at least my body did. I couldn't keep still! And since my arms were bound my lower body began to roll and buck and grind against him as he held my ass tightly and kept his mouth locked against me. I let out soft, breathless curses and gasps as the wild heat spiraled rapidly upwards. I'd only come about two minutes ago but heat was already pouring off me and I felt myself whimpering in a sort of dazed confusion, overawed by the dark heat flooding up into my body from the volcano between my legs.
I was sopping wet, and when he drew a hand off my butt and thrust two fingers up into me I came again, crying out in a long, drawn out curse as my hips jerked frantically against him and the power of the orgasm set skin itself flaring with incredible pleasure.
I was hardly aware of him standing, of him moving behind me. I felt his hands on my back, on my breasts, his lips on my neck. He kissed and licked along the nape of my neck and up under my earlobe as his fingers squeezed my breasts. At first they were gentle, but they got progressively less so, as did his kisses. They became rougher, more demanding, until I imagined I could hear him growling into my ear like a wild man.
One of his hands slid down my quivering stomach, and my hips bucked as his fingers rode across my horribly sensitive clit, the intensity like a raw explosion down there. He drew his hand back up, and I gasped as he jerked back on my hair. This time I was sure he growled as he bit into the side of my throat, an open mouthed bite that brought pressure down hard, but not hard enough to do damage.
Then I felt something else sliding along my thighs, rubbing against my inner thighs just below my pussy. It was unmistakeable, and I moaned dazedly, still gulping in air from the second climax, as he rubbed his erection upwards, and I felt the head push against the opening to my sex.
He let the head force apart the lips of my sex, but instead of pushing into me, he rode back and forth along the entrance, up across my clit, up, and down, and up, and down, making me jerk and flinch, and gasp every time he did it. He drew back, and I yelped as he slapped my bottom and the sting of pain accompanied the crack of flesh on flesh.
“Push your butt out,” he growled.
Gasping, I obeyed, only to get another slap, and another sting of pain.
“Spread your legs!” he ordered.
Chest heaving, I obeyed almost without thinking, hardly even indignant, though normally any sort of violence or implied violence against women would incense me.
I cried out weakly as he jerked back on my hair, pulling my head back between my arms.
Then another slap on the bottom, another sting as he again ordered me to keep my ass pushed back. I started to feel a bit – anxious, feeling a sense of who-does-he-think-he-is. But then his cock pushed slowly up into me and I shuddered and pushed my ass back, cursing helplessly as he sank into me, as I felt the thickness of him and the length of him driving higher and higher. He was thick enough to stretch me and feel incredibly tight, maybe even aching a little.
And he was looong, and I whimpered again as he seized my hips and jerked me back, thrusting in and out in a slow, deep stroke that pushed the head of his cock into the deepest depths of my pussy. It did ache, but the ache was irresistible!
He forced himself into me to the balls, as if not caring whether it hurt or not, and whenever the force of his thrusts caused me to ease my hips forward – subconsciously, a harsh growl, a slap on the bottom, or a jerk on my hair would order me to push my ass back again, and I would obey, instantly, gasping, as he jammed himself high into my belly again and again.
His hands released my aching breasts, which had been squeezed and crushed and kneaded, and slid down my body to seize my legs from the front, pulling them out and apart as he began to thrust faster, harder. His hips slapped against my buttocks so fast my entire body shook continuously from the blows.
I didn't want to come again. The muscles in my abdomen ached, and I was still trying to catch my breath. I felt dazed and overawed by it all. And yet when I felt the heat deepening and the sudden flooding heat I gleefully plunged myself back against his hard cock as the third orgasm in ten minutes howled through my quivering, spasming body. He fucked even harder, his hips slapping brutally against my buttocks as he jerked back on my own hips. He pulled my thighs apart to drive himself even deeper, and I quivered and shook and cried out as the helmet head of his cock rammed into my cervix again and again.
Dazed, I moaned as he eased back. I would have staggered, light-headed, but the restraints held me in place.
He reached up and unlocked one of the leather sides of the restraint and gently eased my arm out, but he didn’t let it go. He pulled it back only long enough to pull my blouse and bra strap over my hand. Then he returned my wrist to the leather restraint and tightened it. He did the same to my other hand, slowly, methodically, not seeming terribly excited or anything. I didn’t resist. I had come three times, and my lower belly ached. I was still panting, gulping in air.
And I was still aroused.
It had eased somewhat with the orgasm, but now as he removed the last of my clothes, it rose again, unstoppably, astonishing me. What difference did it make pulling off my top and bra? They’d been hanging open anyway. I was for all intents and purposes naked. Only now I WAS naked. Completely. I was naked and my arms were shackled above my head and I was staring out the big window at the street scape just as a pair of old black women stopped right in front of the window.
They weren’t looking into the window. Their backs were to it. They seemed to be waiting for something. And then I saw there was a bus stop out front. And I thought, how bizarre that they were right out here, perhaps six feet in front of me, carrying on their routine business, perhaps going shopping, and I was here naked and bound right behind the window, gasping and flushed from three successive orgasms.
And when was the last time I'd had three orgasms in the same sexual session, I wondered weakly.
Then a hand grasped my hair and pulled my head up and back.
“Open your mouth wide.”
I obeyed almost without thinking, feeling his groin against my bare bottom as my head tilted back. In fact, pulling back on my hair opened my mouth automatically. Then he showed me what looked like a dildo, no, a half a dildo, well, not even that, quite... And then it was pushed through my mouth. It was quite thick, but not very long, and I felt it sliding across my tongue as it slid deeper into my mouth.
It was attached to a two inch leather strap which he pushed closer and closer. I pulled a bit, instinctively, as the dildo pushed deeper, but I could not resist. And then, thankfully, the smooth leather of the strap was flat across my mouth, covering my lips and the space above and below, ending just below my nose on top. He pulled it all the way around my head, drawing my hair out of the way with his fingers so the leather rested firmly against my skin, then fixed it together in back.
The dildo gag thing filled my mouth pressing down on my tongue, holding my jaws wide, and resting uncomfortably near the entrance to my throat. Of course, it couldn't go anywhere but I felt a sense of anxiety anyway, that it might somehow slip down my throat.
“I want you to get a sense of how it feels,” he said, sliding his hand up and down my bare back. “Try to let your imagination roam free. Pretend that you are involved in the scene, and that you’re a slave to a man, to a dominant, a master who controls every aspect of your life. Try and put your mind into that place where you don’t question what he does, what he orders you to do. Your body belongs to him to do with as he chooses. All you can do is ride it out, experience whatever he chooses to make you experience, good or bad, pleasure or pain.”
I moaned into the gag, shaking my head a bit, but it wasn’t a denial of what Derrick had said.
His hand slid down my smooth, flat belly and in between my legs, and I squirmed helplessly. I was still horribly sensitive down there, and I normally didn’t like to be touched so soon after climax. But now I could neither resist nor complain. I tried, as he said, to pretend I was a slave girl, that I had given myself so thoroughly to someone that I had no reason to believe I had any right to my own body. The thought was absurd, but still, I had a good imagination - and frankly, there really wasn’t anything I could do at that moment.
So, in effect, I WAS a slave girl, totally helpless to resist as his fingers rubbed insistently at my too-sensitive clit, and I moaned and twisted in helpless response to the powerful, raw sensations coming from down there.
I yelped as his open hand caught my butt with a stinging blow.
“Stand still, slave,” he said sternly.
I obeyed, chest still heaving.
“Spread your legs.”
I reluctantly shifted my feet apart on the floor. I couldn’t spread them too wide without putting undue pressure on my wrists. I stood there, naked, legs apart, staring at the backs of the two black women as Derrick slowly let his hands explore my body. His skin felt hot, or maybe it was mine. He took his time, caressing my back, my ribs, sliding along my belly and abdomen. And most especially, he took his time kneading and stroking and caressing my breasts and my bottom; plucking at my nipples, even pinching and twisting them so they ached and throbbed.
He moved before me and took my stiff nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and then pulled them up and out. I gasped, and of course, my back arched accordingly, straining up as he dug his nails into them a little. They began to burn, to ache, and I felt a a strange sense of thrilling heat fill my chest and slide down through my belly to my pussy. I moaned into the gag, shaking my head at the pain even as I drew my thighs in as if to rub them together.
He released my nipples, which ached and burned, and moved behind me again. I moaned, staring down at my hard, red nipples, ignoring him for a moment. And when I next took notice he was squatting beside me, fastening a leather restraint of some sort around each of my ankles. He had a pair of thick bolts of some sort in his hand. Actually, they looked like the old fashioned fuses you would screw into a fuse box. Only he popped them into small holes in the floor I hadn’t noticed, and they snapped tight. Each had a little ring sticking out, and he attached straps to them.
I watched this with a degree of curiosity and excitement, then moaned a bit as he pulled my left ankle out to the side and attached one of the straps to it. He moved to the other side, gripping my other leg and pulled it, ignoring my gasp of protest as he pulled it too far to the side for me to stand without pulling on my wrists. I had to rise onto the balls of my feet as he attached the strap to the restraint around my ankle.
He rose very suddenly so that I jerked my head back with a gasp, and he had an evil grin on his face as he seized my nipples again and gave them a sharp twist.
“Now you’re completely helpless, my pretty little college girl,” he purred.
He gripped my hair and forced my head up and back, then growled as he nuzzled the front and side of my throat, biting lightly, licking and sucking, his free hand roughly kneading my breast.
He grinned and drew back.
“Now, what next for my little student slave,” he mused.
He waggled his eyebrows, then moved away again, back into the shop, as if searching for something new to use on me. I stood, helpless, legs apart, my wrists feeling the pressure of the restrains as I stood before the window. The two black women were still there, and now had been joined by a white haired older woman, and a pregnant young woman with a very young boy at her side, all apparently waiting for the bus.
It felt so surreal! And I felt a sense of wonder that I was doing this, that I had somehow let myself be talked into this! It was the craziest thing I'd ever done! I was increasingly anxious that they could possibly see in, or at least, if they put their faces to the glass, perhaps bored, might see me -- like this! And I was anxious about Derrick, and the degree of control I had ceded to him. As he had said, I now had no say, no control at all over my body!
Derrick returned with a thick gold chain. It had a simple loop on either end, and he easily fit one over my right nipple, then with a deft touch, the loop closed firmly, then even more firmly. I winced and gasped and twisted helplessly against the restraints as my nipple burned, but he was already placing the other end around my other nipple. In a trice, he had tugged that closed too, and both nipples were aching and throbbing as he released the chain to let it dangle, an unfamiliar weight tugging on my throbbing nipples.
He moved behind me, and again I started and moaned as I felt something cold against my back opening. I squealed and my hips jerked in denial, but he ignored me, and I felt his finger slowly pushing up into me, riding a layer of something slick and slippery. He drew his finger back, and something else replaced it, something which grew thicker with every inch which pushed into me, slowly spreading my sphincter to the point of aching. Then, suddenly, after a moment of sharp pain, it slipped into me and I felt my opening snap closed - almost.
“Ever had a butt-plug inside you before?” he asked.
I shook my head helplessly, and then gasped as I felt him pull back on my hair, felt his hot breath in my ear. “It’s to prepare you for when I fuck you in the ass,” he growled low in his throat.
My eyes widened, and it wasn't the notion of anal sex which did it, for I'd done it before. It wasn't my favorite thing, but it didn't exactly scare me. No, it was the way he said it, the certainty in his voice. He hadn't even asked. He was going to fuck me in the ass, and that was that. He took his right to do so for granted, without even consulting me as to my opinion. And that was what was so big a difference from every other sexual experience I'd had.
I had no control over anything, and my partner intended to do whatever he felt like, without asking me first, without caring what I wanted or thought. And I could do nothing, not even complain!
Then he released my hair and came around in front of me, holding up something which looked sort of like a big, hair clip. It was about three inches long, purple, and basically consisted of two arms about as thick as fingers, attached at one end, bowing outward a bit, then joining together at the end, though not attached.
“I bet you’ve never seen one of these before either,” he said.
I hadn’t, and I watched as he slid it down between my legs, and felt one of the clips push up through the mouth of my sex, sliding up inside my warm, tingling pussy. The other arm of the clip rose up on the outside of my sex, over my clit, and pressed firmly against my groin an inch and a half or so above it. There was some sort of spring pressure in the clip which kept the one inside pressing against the one outside -- with my flesh in between.
Then it began to buzz.
“The inside one is supposed to be right over your G spot,” he said, “While the outside, well, I don’t need to tell you. I can’t say from personal experience, but it’s quite a popular model among the ladies.”
He ran his hands lightly over my body again, then slapped my bottom lightly.
“Now, I have a few things to do in back. I’ll leave you alone to contemplate the life of a slave girl for a while.”
And then he left!
And so I found myself all alone in the front of the store. There were about eight people waiting in front of the window now, six feet in front of me. And I was standing completely naked, and finding it increasingly difficult to keep my hips from rolling and grinding!
God! This was so perverted! But I had no difficulty at all in seeing the attraction. It was wild and kinky and darkly thrilling! I was breathless, my chest tight, my nipples aching, my breasts throbbing, my pussy soaking and getting worse by the minute! The little clip thing was a vibrator but not a strong one. It was, in a way, a torture device, for it roused me to the kind of sexual arousal I had rarely felt in my life, but wasn’t enough to push me over the edge.
The sight of those people in front of me was anxiety producing, but also darkly thrilling, for it added to the kinkiness of the situation. And the aching in my nipples added even more, especially since every time I moved, the chain moved, and I felt a new sensation of pressure against my nipples.
I looked down between my swollen breasts flushed with heat, down to the purple clip sticking out of me, for I was sure I must actually be dripping wet! My pussy kept squeezing down and again, and I kept moving, continuously, hips rolling and jerking and grinding, rising and falling on my acing ankles, pulling against the wrist restraints or against the ankle restraints, my head pulling back between my arms, then pushing forward again.
I couldn’t keep still!
I wanted someone to fuck me, and fuck me hard! And in that instant I didn’t care who it was! Anyone would do!
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only about fifteen minutes or so, Derrick ambled out from the rear of the store.
“And how is our nasty little slut doing?” he asked, jerking back on my hair.
I gasped and moaned, feeling a strange sense of indignation mixed with embarrassment mixed with heat at the use of that word.
He chuckled and I felt his hand cup my buttocks, pressing against the base of the butt-plug. Then he pulled the latter slowly out. I felt myself being opened from inside, felt the wide part of the butt-plug push back my flesh and slowly emerge. But almost at once, something else was pushed into me. It was round and malleable, but thick. I moaned as it was twisted and turned and pushed deeper into my ass.
“This is one of our more popular models,” he said. “A metal center with soft silicon surrounding it.”
I moaned as it pushed deeper still, way deeper than the butt-plug had gone. He pulled back and pushed forward, slowly working it deeper.
“Release your muscles,” he said.”
He slapped my bottom sharply and I gasped, and in that instant he was able to push it a few inches deeper still, so that I felt a kind of aching, a cramping inside me.
“Don’t let that fall out or you’ll be punished,” he warned.
He moved around in front of me, his arms folded, and I trembled, face and chest flushed, body overheated. I felt very… well… inferior, standing there naked and helpless. He was so calm, so casual, and of course, fully clothed.
“Ready to start?” he asked calmly.


Argus is always a delight. This is one of his best.

5/5- ~grace

Top, great stuff, excellent storyline, elaborated bdsm scenes and great insight in the minds of the players.

5/5- edsubject

Very very nice! One of the best recently. (Not very realistic, but hot!)




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