by Ella Ford
As she approached me, I exhaled deeply, unable to contain the fiery lust that burned within me. To see her before me, so naked and vulnerable, so trusting and obedient, it thrilled me in a way that nothing ever had before. She was mine, my possession, to do with as I wanted. And I wanted to do so many things!
I sat forward in the sofa and motioned for her to stand before me. She complied without question and positioned herself inches from where I sat. “Part your legs please Lillian,” I requested in a playful tone. She did as she was told, and I reached forward and lightly touched between her legs. She shuddered at my caress, sighing audibly.
She’d done an excellent job with her grooming, removing every stray hair until her pussy was completely smooth. There was not a nick or blemish on her perfect sex, just a tantalising crease that ran between her legs and contained the riches of her womanhood. “Quite beautiful Lillian,” I said, dragging my fingers through her soft folds, “you’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Thank you mistress,” she said, visibly delighted with my complement.
“Now, I’d like you to kneel down here,” I added, gesturing to the floor in front of my feet, “I have a surprise for you that I think we’re both going to enjoy a great deal.”
She took a step back and lowered herself down to her knees, straightening her back and crossing her arms behind her back. Then she relaxed and waited for my next words.
Without breaking eye contact with her, I reached casually to my side and pushed aside a cushion. Then I took hold of what lay underneath and held it up before her.
She gasped and her eyes widened, the previous look of docile contentment swept away with an expression that was equal parts disbelief and fear. “Mistress, I…” she began, her voice trembling with apprehension.
I shushed her quiet and turned the object over in my hands, relishing the weight of the thing. Lillian’s apparent reluctance was understandable. The thing that I held up to her was a strap-on dildo, a ten-inch column of moulded rubber. It was bulbous and textured, rippled with grotesque veins and intricate features. The hideous flesh colored rod was several inches thick, with a bulbous helmet at one end and a complex harness of leather straps at the other.
I’d bought the dildo on a whim at a sleazy downtown sex-store earlier in the day. The store clerk, a filthy looking lump of a man, had fixed me with a sordid look when I nervously took it to the counter to pay for. “Anniversary gift for the hubby?” he’d asked with a perverted wink. My face lit up an angry red and I managed to utter a reply, “Y-yes, something like that.”
Then I handed over a wad of bills and hurried from the store with my new purchase clutched to my chest, not bothering to wait for my change.
Now, as I rolled the grotesque appendage around in my hands, I wondered if I’d bitten off more than I could chew. Or, rather, more than Lillian could chew. Perhaps I was getting too carried away with my role as dominant, perhaps I was asking too much of my maid as I pursued my deepest desires? But the brief flash of self-doubt was cut short when Lillian spoke up.
“Where does mistress want me?” she whispered and I gasped with surprise and delight.
I beckoned her forwards and she shuffled towards me on her knees, then stopped when she was inches from me. I reached down and took her chin in my hand, angling her head upwards so that she was staring directly at me. She looked into my eyes with an expression of guileless trust and total devotion. I wondered briefly what I had done to earn this girl’s loyalty when my intent was so plainly dishonorable.
Bending forward, I brushed my lips against hers, and she exhaled. I could feel the warmth of her breath, minty and fresh, on my lips and I shuddered, suddenly charged with an electric energy. I leaned in again, this time locking my mouth on hers. She returned the kiss, moving her lips against mine and parting them slightly, inviting me forwards. My tongue flicked out and licked her mouth, then plunged inwards and sought its twin. When our tongues met, they rolled together, dancing in the air between us, a desperate dance fueled by our mutual desires.
My hand moved to the back of her head and I gripped her ponytail, yanking her head back and holding her in place. Then I slipped off the sofa and kneeled above her, peering down at my submissive toy. She gazed back, lost in the maelstrom of her passion. I kissed her again, harder this time, more frantic, eager tongue probing for every taste that I could get.
Panting heavily, I pulled back and released her hair. Her head fell forward and she gasped.
“Get on all fours, put your head down and your ass up,” I commanded. She complied instantly, and fell into the position. I shuffled around her, positioning myself behind her magnificent behind. Her upper half was almost touching the floor, her arms stretched out in front of her, and her pussy was exposed at her rear. I tapped her thighs, indicating that she should spread her legs. She did, and I rewarded her by plunging my fingers into her damp lips.
She cried out as I found my mark, her head lifted up and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. With rough motions, I toyed with her clitoris. I found myself driven by desire, fueled by lust and possessed of an energy I had never experienced before.
I withdrew my hand and stood up, then began to frantically undress myself. I cast aside my blouse, my skirt, my shoes. With trembling hands, I tore at my bra and panties, tossing them aside, never once taking my eyes off the glorious sight of her gaping pussy. Then I reached down and grabbed the monstrous strap-on, stepping into the leather harness, first one foot, then the other.
As I tightened the straps, the thin cord that ran between my legs brushed against my clitoris and I gasped, realizing then how exquisitely aroused I was. Lillian turned to looked at me, her eyes imploring me for satisfaction, and I felt a strong wave of desire washing over me.
I fell to my knees and shuffled over to Lillian’s rear, enjoying the way that the immense cock swayed in front of me. It thrilled me with a sense of immaculate power, a feeling of total control. Was this how it felt to be a man?
Lillian was breathing heavily now, desperate for attention, inviting me forward with the glistening pink of her young pussy. I got into position behind her and gripped her pelvis with my left hand. With my right, I began to slowly tease the blunt end of the strap-on shaft against her lips, soaking it in her wetness. I could smell her desire, thick and rich, a heady cocktail of intoxicating lust. I longed to plunge my mouth into that steamy crevice, to devour her as she had devoured me before. Perhaps later, but for now, I had work to do.
I positioned the dildo against her puckered hole and lightly pressed forward, tightening my grip on her hip to steady her. She inhaled deeply and threw her head back, then moaned as I slowly eased the thick girth of my plastic cock into her. I peered down, captivated by the sight of the shaft disappearing into her stretched entrance, invigorated by the sound of her moans.
I thrust forwards as far as I dared, then pulled back, reversing my stroke and the intolerable pleasure that she was experiencing. She gasped, simultaneously relieved that the thick pole was leaving her and distressed by its sudden absence. I pushed forward once more, harder this time, deeper, rocking her body forwards with the motion of my own. She squealed, begging for more and begging to stop. But I plunged on, thrusting back and forwards, back and forwards. My thighs slapped against her ass, skin on skin, and I pulled her towards me by her waist, impaling her deeper than ever.
She sound incoherent now, her labored cries were those of pure pleasure as she moaned a perfect cacophony of physical ecstasy.
Over and over I thrust into her, feeling the insistent tug of the leather harness against my own throbbing pussy. It felt real, it felt like I was actually fucking her with a real cock. And the physical sensations were matched and exceeded by the eroticism of the situation, how it made me feel. The raw ecstasy of domination, the feeling of controlling her young body, the endless possibility of total submission.
I joined her cries, joined my voice to hers and we reached a crescendo of pleasure.
Then I s
ensed her voice change, more of a wail than a moan now. With each thrust into her, her breathing quickened and her cries became more frequent. I felt her losing control, felt her body begin to tense. Her skin was slippery, glistening in the dim room as tiny beads of sweat formed on her pale body. Harder and harder, faster and faster, deeper and deeper. Until finally, inevitably, she screamed out one final time, a high pitched screech that passed beyond human hearing to become a silent cry.
Her head pushed back and her neck muscles tensed, popping out against her skin with the sheer brute force of the orgasm. Her leg kicked out and she dug her clawed hands into the carpet. Overcome myself, I slapped her bare ass, revelling in her moment of total ecstasy.
And then it ceased. Her body went limp, collapsing down to the floor like a broken down doll. Limp and lifeless, her arms collapsed by her side and she exhaled deeply. I slid the enormous strap-on out of her, and dipped my finger into her exhausted pussy. She shuddered at my touch, body still aching and sensitive from the exertions of the orgasm. I coated my fingers in her wetness, then withdrew them and absentmindedly placed them in my mouth, savoring her exquisite taste.
---
Some time later, she began to recover. I shifted back to the sofa and settled back to watch her tired body re-animate. She glanced up at me, sheepish and content, blushing slightly at the memory of what had happened. Then she raised herself up to her hands and knees, and crawled over to where I sat, then she curled up beside my feet and sighed contentedly.
I realized then that although my actions might appear self-serving and my original good intentions may have gone awry somewhere along the way, we had both ended up with what we wanted. I had my maid, my lover, my possession - she fulfils a need in me that I never knew I had, or chose not to recognize. A need to dominate and control, to mould another person to my whims.
Meanwhile, Lillian gets structure, discipline and a firm hand to guide her. To her, this surrender of self and submission to my authority is what she craves. An unorthodox need in this modern world, to be sure, but a valid one.
And so, we both complement each other. Maid and mistress, owner and owned.
I look down at her and she looks back at me. Her timid expression awash with love and devotion. “Lillian, I think I’d like to change something.”
She looks back at me, her expression changing to mild confusion. “Mistress?”
“Your name,” I began, “I feel that Lillian is the name from your old life, that old world that you belonged to. You belong to me now, you’re mine.” She smiled at this. “From now on, I will call you Lilly.”
And Lilly it was, until the day she left my service and possibly beyond.
Epilogue
When playtime is finished, I help Lilly to stand up from the table and untie her arms. She winces as her aching joints straighten for the first time in hours. Her exhausted face is streaked with tears, but flushed red with the afterglow of her pleasure. I reach around her head and unfasten the ball gag, and it falls from her mouth.
“Thank you mistress,” she croaks, and smiles warmly.
“That’s quite alright Lilly, now run along to the living room. You may sit at my feet tonight. I shall join you presently, but first I have a phone call to make.”
The girl’s face lights up, and she scurries away. The sweet, young thing enjoys curling up around my stockinged feet of an evening like a pet cat. I watch her leave, captivated by the long length of her legs, highly alluring in the seamed stockings and absurdly short dress. Maybe I would make the playtime uniform her everyday uniform as well? I might as well. The need for practicality vanished when my maid started spending more of her time fucking me than she did cleaning my house.
I follow her into the hallway and pick up my mobile telephone from the small table by the door. With fingers still thick with the smell of Lilly’s pussy, I select the number I wish to dial. The phone rings twice and then a young gentleman answers.
“Hello, yes, I’d like to reserve a table,” I pause while they hunt for their reservation book. “Yes, it’s for eight o’clock tomorrow night. Three people. My name? Certainly, my name is Klein, Ms. Olivia Klein.”
And with that, I hang up and wander into the living room, wondering idly whether I will let Lilly pleasure me later on.
THE END
Taken By The General
by Ella Ford
Prologue
The midday sun shone dappled light through the dark leaves of the olive grove. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of burning crops and sang with the distant sound of fevered battle. Kate looked around, momentarily disoriented. She was naked and in a raised kneeling position, her hands folded behind her head. She turned to look around, confused but not distressed. A dim part of her realized that this was not real, that she was dreaming. The same dream that she had known since her teenage years, and possibly long before that.
The harsh smoke stung her eyes and the ground on which she knelt was rough and uncomfortable. Yet she felt a rightness here, a sense of belonging. She briefly considered attempting to stand, but a strange inertia compelled her to remain kneeling.
Beside her was another figure, another woman, mirrored in the same pose. Kate blinked to clear the tears welling in her eyes, but found it impossible to focus clearly on her companion’s face. She opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to produce any sound. She turned her head away and focused attention on herself.
Blinking her eyes again, she looked downwards, never once shifting out of the kneeling position. Gazing over her naked form, Kate felt a sudden rush of vertigo as she realized that this body was not her own. Instead of her own pale skin, she saw dark, Mediterranean coloring. Where she expected a trimmed tuft of wispy blonde hair, instead she saw a unkempt, dark patch. Her breasts, normally full and curved, were smaller and pert. She regained composure and took stock. None of this felt wrong, she realized.
She was suddenly aware of a figure behind her. A strong, masculine figure that carried a presence that she did not need to see to be aware of. She longed to turn her head, but instinctively realized that she must continue to face forward. In the distance, the sound of the battle continued, the relentless beat of war drums describing a chaos that Kate felt remote and disconnected from.
A voice spoke though she could not understand the words. She realized that the looming figure behind her was issuing a command. Without thinking, she leaned forwards onto her hands and parted her legs, exposing herself to the entity. She glanced to her side and found her kneeling companion was doing the same. Kate looked forwards and felt a heat rise from her breasts, a flush of anticipation and fear. She was consumed with a longing that she could not explain, she only knew that this was her place, that this was her destiny.
The distant drums rose to a thronging crescendo as Kate felt strong hands grip her hips and pull her backwards. She didn’t resist, she didn’t want to resist. The pounding drumbeat became a thunderous cacophony…
Chapter 1
The storm raged against the gothic windows of Kate Shaw’s office in the museum, a long roll of distant thunder rousing her from the light sleep. She must have dozed off, she realized, rubbing her neck and shoulders. She struggled to remember the dream, but already the feeling of warmth and comfort was faded and intangible.
It was ten o’clock, long after the museum had closed to the public and the last of the administration workers had gone. Even the janitor had finished his rounds hours before and wished Kate a good night and a safe journey home. Kate had wished him the same, before spending a long time fretting about what she was about to do, eventually falling asleep at her desk.
Tonight, Kate would deliver her resignation letter and never look back. It was finally time to end her five year career as assistant to the curator, and this saddened her greatly. She truly loved her job and was grateful for the opportunity to work at such a prestigious institution, but after years of being passed over for the role of curator she’d decided it was time to take her talen
ts elsewhere.
Today had been the final straw. After reaching the final stage of interviews for the curator role in the ancient Greece wing, she was removed from consideration for the job. It was the same old story: “we recognise your abilities and your commitment, but a promising external candidate has been approached and he is interested in the role.” She’d thanked them for their time, assured them that she would be happy to work with the new curator and meekly returned to her desk.
Kate had spent the rest of the afternoon blankly staring at her monitor. She’d given it everything this time. Her presentation to the governing board was masterful, the answers she’d given to their probing questions were eloquent and hit all the right notes. She’d even made the effort to improve her normally bookish appearance - a fancy haircut, makeup and nails professionally done, all rounded off with seamed stockings and heels so high they made her nervous to take the stairs. But attempting to fire up the passions of the dinosaurs on the board of governors was a lost cause and in the end they’d chosen to employ another dinosaur who would run the wing in the same way it had been run for the last hundred years.
As she’d sat there, counting the hours till she could return home and dive headfirst into a bottle of wine, she’d considered her situation. Kate was twenty nine, educated and brilliant. She’d sacrificed her friends, family and relationships for her career and all for very little pay off. Reluctantly, she’d admitted that her time here was at an end and had decided to quit there and then, quickly penning a terse resignation letter before getting cold feet and spending hours staring at it.
The thunder rolled again and brought her back to the present. It’s time to stop being a baby and get on with it, she told herself. Turning her attention back to the letter, she added a final flourish, hit print, proof-read the printout and placed it in a crisp, white envelope. She stared at it, took one final deep breath to settle her nerves and placed the envelope on her boss’s desk.
