Bitter Sweet 01

Big Tits

Chapter One.
Suffering the consequences.

We entered her two-level apartment and she took me through to a lounge. It looked expensively furnished with a thick, creamy white carpet and a plush velvet three piece suite. The coffee table looked like real wood. The only thing that looked incongruous was the old chrome dining chair.

I followed her across, enjoying the feel of the long-haired carpet under my feet, until I saw a white painted iron ring half covered by the pile. My brows creased as I looked and spotted three more; what their purpose was had me guessing.

She dropped the leash as she sat, and then fished out her pad. “Angla,” she said, holding the pad before her as she reclined back. I took the opportunity to get a better look at her; she had the kind of figure that turned me on, slim with moderate breasts. Her ash blond hair hung to her shoulders with just a little curl in smoothing the ends.

From where I was standing I could see the screen flash on with a photo avatar.

It started ringing and then the avatar changed to live video as a woman answered the call.

“Dafne darling, are you home already?”

“Yes and I got one!” she said excitedly. “He’s not bad looking and he’s got a big weenie. Here, take a look.” She turned the pad to face me, angling it up and down. “Can you see him? What do you think?”

“He’ll do splendidly,” Angla said when Dafne turned the pad back. “I’ll finish off up here and get changed. Why don’t you take him through to the chamber and get him prepped, see if we’ve got a cock cage big enough.”

Dafne smiled into the screen. “Sounds great. Would you bring my outfit down with you when you come?”

“Of course sweetie, see ya in a few minutes.” Angla signed off.

Dafne tapped the screen. It went dark and she tossed it back into her bag. She looked up at me, a thin smile curling the corners of her lips as her gaze flicked over me. She stood, grabbing the leash before turning to lead me over to a door in the far wall.

Inside, the walls were painted black, the floor was good imitation wood and there were dark beams across the white painted ceiling. Her heels tapped across the floor as she led me in, the leash drawing tight for a second as I looked around.

Chains and ropes hung down from the ceiling, and against one wall were three cages. The smallest looked like it could accommodate an Old English Sheep dog. On the other wall hung iron rings and a number of larger items covered with dust sheets. What was beneath them, I dared not to wonder.

I was beginning to panic. What had I fallen into? This was some weird shit around me. I hoped she’d read the rule that prohibited injuries or excessive pain. My leash jerked, pulling me on as she turned behind the door and stopped in front of one of a pair of cupboards.

“Kneel,” she ordered with a glint in her eye as she waited to see that I obeyed her.

I knelt, feeling the hard floor cruelly bite into my unprotected knees. A little smile of satisfaction play on her lips before she turned to the cupboard behind her. I could see skeins of rope and lengths of chain hanging in the lower half as she reached up to retrieve something from one of the upper shelves.

“Ah,” she said, plucking something from the back.

Turning to back to me, she grabbed my hair and pulled my head forward. She slipped a silky, stretchy balaclava over my head then, pushing my head back to adjust the eye and mouth holes.

“Stand,” she barked, stepping back.

She turned to the cupboard and began searching its contents.

“Ah,” Dafne said, satisfied. She held four leather restraints in her hands. “Left arm,” she ordered, reaching for it.

As I lifted it, she thrust the other three at me. “Hold these.”

Each restraint had two straps with buckles and solid steel rings attached to them. She quickly secured one around my left wrist and another on my right. Once done, she led me to a chair by my leash and told me to sit.

She ordered me to place one foot on her thigh and bent slightly forward to affix one ankle restraint before moving on to the other. She took a half step back and looked me over again, a satisfied smile on her face as her gaze travelled from my wrists to ankles.

“Bring the chair,” she commanded over her shoulder as she strutted to the other cupboard.

I carried the chair to where she wanted as she opened up the new cupboard. She dipped her hand into one of the compartments and sorted through several chromed wire items, comparing them against each other before finally selecting one.

“Time for some fun,” she said turning back to me, a smile lighting up her face.

She giggled as she grabbed my leash and pulled me closer as she sat in the chair.

She looked me up and down, her eyes searching as they met mine, her lips narrowing as she gave another giggle. She reached out, her fingers cupping my balls. My cock twitched involuntarily with the thrill, But then her fingers tightened painfully and my legs tensed anadolu yakası escort as it got painful. I swallowed the discomfort for several moments before I jerked backward.

Dafne immediately pulled on the leash. “Don’t move unless I tell you. Got it, bitch?” She reached forward and grabbed me again. “These are my balls now!”

I bit down hard when she clenched my ball sack the second time, holding my body as stiff as I could. She looked up at me, beaming, before giving them a final yank and releasing them.

“That’s better, slave. Be warned,” she said, coolly wagging her index finger in my face. “I don’t like having to tell a worthless slave the same thing twice.” Her face was sterner, more confident as she went on. “Now let’s see how big a boy you really are.”

She crouched and reached out between my legs again, this time taking my cock, fondling and playing with my head as it rose.

“You like that, big boy, hmm? Want me to play with it?” Dafne teased. Her hand slid up and down my shaft, bending it less as it stiffened further. “Oh yes. Look how big you’re getting.” It was nearly horizontal when she released me.

She dribbled some saliva into her palm and took hold again, massaging my head with her spit-slicked hand. She sent thrills through me, my cock getting harder and more swollen.

“Oh, that’s even better,” she squealed. “Let’s see how big you can get.”

She had me stiff and throbbing when she let go. She leaned to pick up chrome gadget tugging on the leash and pulling painfully on my neck as I tried to not get pulled off the chair.

She finally let go of my leash as she sat back up and concentrated on opening up the strange device. It seemed to consist of four chrome bars curved together at the top with encircling metal rings, a larger loop was locked around the open end and it was this she was removing.

When it was free she turned her attention back to me. Dropping the loop to the floor she reached in and took hold of my still erect shaft. She looked up at me with that smirking little grin then back down at my cock.

I could see what was coming; she was going to fit some sort of chastity thingy. I automatically edged back on the chair as she brought it near to my engorged head.

“Stay still worm,” she said firmly, glancing up to my face as she gave my shaft a hard squeeze.

“Yes Mistress,” I replied, hoping she’d stop.

“Damn,” she hissed under her breath as my helmet jammed in the entrance.

A flicker of movement caught my eye and I glanced around to see the face from her pad — It was Angla. She looked to be in her late twenties, early thirties. She wore suspenders, stockings and a bright red patent leather thong. Her breasts were thrusting out of a shiny black waistcoat; prominent nipples nestled above the quarter cup bra.

She walked over, peering at Dafne fumbling with the chrome tube. The heels of her shiny black knee-high boots clacked on the floor.

“He’s too big I think, Mistress,” Dafne said, looking up at her.

“Measure it, darling,” she said, stopping to look closely.

“It looks seven or eight inches. Should I still call you Mistress?”

“No,” she said laughing, “to both. You need to measure his girth. How thick is it?” Angla turned to the cupboard and reached to the top shelf. “Here,” she said, turning back and proffering a coiled tape.

Dafne took it from her. “I think it’s in his contract. I’m sure there’s his physical report in there somewhere.”

She put the chrome cage and the tape on the floor and leant out to catch the straps of her bag, pulling it over. Angla walked around the back of the chair, her stilettos clip-clopping. Dafne pulled her pad out and tapped the screen a few times.

“Here look, he’s five and a quarter. Pretty impressive.”

“Then we’re out of luck on that,” Angla said, “You’ll have to use one of the leather ones.”

Dafne put the pad down as Angla started looking through the cupboard. She turned to Dafne and handed her a three inch wide leather strap with a moulded hand grip on the end.

“Remember now, don’t strike too hard. Make it sting not hurt, and definitely no bruising. When you get your own clients then you’ll know what they like. This one’s just to learn on, okay?” cautioned Angla. “Your costume is in my bag, you can get changed now and we’ll do a bit of warming up to get you in the mood.”

A smile lit up Dafne’s face and she swivelled on the chair to stand and retrieve the bag Angla had brought.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as she pulled out a red waistcoat. Next was a pair of six inch, clear Perspex stilettos. Lastly was a little packet which held a red thong like Angla’s, and fishnet tights. Dafne laid them on the seat and started undressing.

“Here, hold these,” Angla said, handing me another strap along with a selection of multi-tailed whips and a rod.

I looked at the wicked-looking instruments in my arms and I began to worry how far they would take things. I knew my contract specified avrupa yakası escort no pain, but how well were such rules policed? Surely locals would know how far the law could be bent before actually breaking them.

Angla took up my leash. “Come slave,” she said giving it a jerk.

She led me away from the now near naked Dafne and back into the lounge.

She dropped what she carried onto the settee. “Put them there,” she instructed brusquely, nodding at the tools in my arms.

Just as I put them down, she jerked on my leash again. “Lie down on the floor, slave,” she instructed. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her watching surreptitiously while pretending to examine her whip.

I lay down in front of her. “Not there. Here in front of my chair,” she said with a kick to my leg

I crabbed around, pointing my feet toward her as she sat.

“Closer. Open your legs up,” she urged, tapping my inner thighs with the tips of her stilettos.

I scrambled closer on my heels and elbows, feeling the luxurious softness of the carpet on my bare back and ass. Angla watched me move till my knees were astride the chair. She lifted a foot and put the sole of her shoe on my limp cock and started rubbing it.

My unwillingness and apprehension began to fade as my cock started to respond. As it grew harder, she continued to press down, squashing it flat, the spike of the heel pressing and separating my balls. It soon became uncomfortable, and I twisted my hips to let my engorged cock pop out from under.

Thwap! The leather strap struck me across the thigh. I jerked back as my skin prickled. Thwap! Angla struck my other thigh.

“Did I tell you to move, slave?” she asked, glaring at me.

“No,” I said through clenched teeth.

Thwap! She rained down another stroke in the same place as the first. “When you answer you will call me Mistress.” Thwap! “Understood?”

“Yes Mistress.”

She put her foot back, my cock now lolling on my hip. Her stiletto pressed down on the skin of my ball sack as she rolled my cock under her foot.

She looked up as the door closed. “Dafne, come and sit on his face and keep him still,” she said in a softer voice.

I craned my neck back as Dafne loomed over me.

Thwap! “I told you not to move without permission.”

“Is he being insolent again?” asked Dafne. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear, slave,” she said, spitting the word slave out. “Your superiors do not like having to tell you the same thing more than once. Geez, you have a lot to learn, bitch.”

My thighs stung with the repeated blows but I managed to remain still, staring up at the ceiling. Dafne planted her feet astride my head. As my eyes followed her in I could see she was wearing some crotchless fishnet tights with a little red thong covering her pussy.

She loomed above me, one hand holding a rod with a square of leather on the end, the other stroking her pussy as a little smile played over her lips.

“Would you like to taste me, big boy, taste the nectar of my powerful pussy, huh?” she tapped my chin with the platform of her shoe. I lay there wondering if the question was rhetorical as her smile hardened and her eyes narrowed. She tapped the side of my face with her other foot. “Would you like to taste me? Don’t make me ask you again!”

“Yes mistress,” I replied meekly.

She struck me again harder. “That wasn’t very enthusiastic.”

“Yes Mistress,” I said louder and with what I hoped was more feeling.

“That’s better,” she said, crouching.

The cheeks of her ass were on my forehead. She thrust one of the fingers she had been stroking herself with into my mouth and smeared it on my tongue. “Here’s a sample,” she said, giggling. The taste without the aroma was bland, there seemed to be a sharpness with a sweeter aftertaste.

I felt the rod against my cheek as she pressed on my tongue to force my mouth open and thrust all four fingers in far enough to make me want to heave.

“There, taste nice? You can have more if you want.” She pulled her fingers out, and slid down my face till her thong was over my gaping mouth.

She let go of my chin as she pressed down, the fabric covering her pussy stretched across my mouth.

Phat! I spasm when something hit my nipple.

“See what I mean,” said Angla. “The worthless slave won’t keep still.”

My nipple was still stinging when Angla ground her foot against my cock again as if she was putting out a discarded cigarette.

Phat! This time it was my other nipple.

“You’re not licking me, don’t you want to taste me, big boy?” chided Dafne wriggling her pussy on my face.

My tongue got busy, licking over the mound inside the silky smooth fabric.

The pressure of Angla’s foot stopped, then after a few seconds I felt the slickness of her hose. Her stockinged feet were caressing my balls and cock, each independently stroking where they pleased.

I could feel my cock swell, in seconds it eryaman escort was hard enough for her to curl toes around the shaft to start stroking it.

“You’re right about his prick, it’d give you a decent fuck.” Angla laughed. “I get to go first when the session’s over.”

“Hey, I paid for him,” Dafne complained.

“Teacher privilege,” she said.

Thunk! Angla’s toes wedged themselves under my nuts. Her arched foot pressing against them hard enough to hurt. My hips jerked and I felt the pressure of Dafne’s crotch lift.

Phat! My cock danced as the pain lanced down.

“She told you, don’t move!”

Phat! The pain surged, but this time the other side of my shaft was set alight. I yelped.

“You’ve stopped licking. I didn’t tell you to do that,” Dafne said agressively.

I franticly started licking again.

Thunk! “You moved,” Angla said accusingly.

She pushed my legs apart with her toes and heard the chair creak as she sat. I felt her stocking feet on my thighs, she slide them up to pin my cock against me with her one foot as the other began stroking my still tingling shaft.

She got me good and hard but she stopped as quickly as she began. I heard the chair rustle and creak again as it was being moved as I focused on licking the wet sticky fabric covering Dafne’s crotch as ordered. Suddenly I felt the weight of Angla’s entire body on my thigh as she stood on me, balancing on my thighs before she walked up to my hips and turned around.

Somehow she balanced on one foot and pressed my helmet into my abdomen with her heel before moving her foot back to squeeze and roll my shaft with her toes. Above me Dafne began to chuckle.

Phat! She hit my nipple again.

I tensed, trying to hold still and wondering how much I could take. Surely this wasn’t in the contract. Could consenting heterosexual sex stretch this far? I was experiencing genuine pain while they were enjoying inflicting it. Did men really enjoy this sort of play? I certainly wasn’t getting any sexual thrill out of it.

“You’re not exciting me enough,” Dafne complained, wriggling her ass on my face. “I don’t want to wait all day for your feeble efforts to get me off,” she said in exasperation

Phat! “Take my thong off. Let’s see if you can do better with the real thing.”

Angla was now standing with both feet on my cock, kneading me with her heels, her hose making purchase difficult.

Angla’s thong had bows at the side, similar to what held up the bottoms of bikinis. I guessed the bows on Dafne’s thong worked similarly. I reached up for them, running my hands up her stocking-clad thighs and pulled the bows open. The thong dropped from her perky ass cheeks. The heady aroma of her nether region and a hint of perfume hit me immediately.

She reached reached down and pulled my mouth wide before nuzzling her crotch in my face. Her pussy was shaved clean and I could feel the slick smoothness of her mound as I slipped my tongue between her lips. I slid my tongue up and down, parting her pussy lips.

Her juices trickled into my mouth and over my chin. I gave her my best. Hoping that it might distract her and minimise the arbitrary punishment being meted out. She wiggled on top of me, spreading her pussy wider. In response I pushed my tongue in to circle her hole, making the occasional probing flick inside.

Angla lifted herself from my legs and turning delivered another kick to my balls. I was half expecting something and gave only the slightest of jerks. She laughed and kicked again. I twitched with the harder blow, expecting more punishment for moving. She kicked again but this time at my thighs as she prodded my legs wider.

Nice as it was lapping at Dafne’s juices, I was having difficulty concentrating on servicing her orally with the random stabs of pain being inflicted by the pair of them. The cushioned chair creaked as Angla sat again. I felt the soft fabric of her hose as her feet started stroking my thighs.

Dafne’s giggle started me franticly licking again, but it was too late as she levelled another strike to my bare nipple with her leather tipped rod.

“Lick harder,” she commanded, rubbing her slick crotch on my mouth. I redoubled my efforts.

I extended my tongue deeper into her folds as she moved back and forth over it, her fresh juices dribbling down into the back of my throat. The response of Dafne’s delicious pussy and Angla’s stroking was bringing my throbbing cock stiffly upright

“Oh, that’s nice,” cooed Dafne, pressing harder. “Pleasing your mistress like a good slave.”

I felt Angla’s feet slip up into my crotch, the silky soft fabric stiffening my cock further as her toes curled around to grip my shaft. An almost electric thrill shivered through me as she began to stroke it.


“You moved!” she said threateningly. “Keep still when you’re told to do so.”

My thigh stung as I waited for another blow to fall.

Thwap! This time my nipple as Dafne complained: “Keep licking.”

I stuck my tongue back out and her slick, hairless lips started skimming over mine again as she shifted her hips back and forth. Angla started to stroke me again, and I stiffened my limbs as the pleasure began building up and my body betrayed me once more.

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.