Admittedly, I was a little distracted that evening, but I somehow managed to hide my flustered state from Keith. My ass felt all tingly each time I shifted in my seat, knowing that I was edging closer and closer to a spanking. I could practically feel the heat building in my bottom. By the time we were finishing dessert, my pussy felt hot and swollen, my shaved lips slick against the wet satin of my panties. Keith and I had a great time, and even though I enjoy his company, I was desperate to get home, craving the feel of Sam’s strong hand.
Sam must have heard my car pull into the driveway, because I didn’t even have a chance to put my key in the lock. I walked through the open door and saw my husband standing there, waiting for me.
“Come here,” he ordered. I approached him with eyes downcast. It was almost difficult for me to walk. I was so turned on that every step seemed to send little sparks shooting through my clit.
Sam had me place my hands in front of me, then he took the scarf from around my neck and tied my wrists together. Without another word, I assumed the position over the arm of the couch, with my arms stretched out in front of me.
“Well,” Sam said as he lifted up the back of my dress, “let’s see what we have here.” He reached into my panties and stroked the full length of my dripping slit. I moaned loudly, unable to stop myself. I heard him chuckle softly before saying, “I think what we have here is one very bad girl.” He then reached forward, running his juice-slicked fingers over my lips. “Can you feel how wet you are?”
I couldn’t speak and barely nodded in response. I felt Sam ball up the fabric of my dress in his fist at the small of my back. “Now what did I tell you, Melissa? What did I tell you would happen if you came home with a wet pussy?”
“That-that I would be punished,” I stuttered. I was overwhelmed with the feelings swirling through me: yearning, arousal, and the near-frantic need to feel his hand connecting with my bare skin.
“That’s right,” he said, and a split second later I felt his hand come down hard on my ass. I gasped out loud but held my position, trying not to move as Sam began spanking me in earnest, alternating from cheek to cheek. My delicate panties offered no protection from the sharp slaps raining down on my upturned bottom. I reached my bound hands out in front of me, randomly clutching at the throw pillows as I gasped and moaned.
I lost count after the first dozen swats. My ass was glowing with warmth and my pussy was pulsing with need. I began moving my hips in small circles, trying to press my clit up against the arm of the couch as he continued to spank me. Sam quickly noticed and yanked my panties down to my knees. I immediately stopped moving.
“Such a bad girl,” he said. I could only imagine him playfully shaking his head as he looked at my well-spanked ass, because with my head down in the cushions and my long hair in a tumble around my sweaty face, I could see nothing. My entire world consisted of the luscious ache in my ass and the desperate hunger in my pussy.
I lay there motionless, waiting for Sam’s next move. When I heard the zip of leather being pulled out of his belt loops, I knew. “Look at you, trying to get yourself off while I spank you,” he chided. “What am I going to do with you?”
With that, Sam let the doubled-up belt fall on my bare cheeks. It was just a soft tap, but it made me jump. Without wasting any time, Sam then placed six lively strokes of the belt across my naked bottom. I shifted my weight from high-heeled foot to high-heeled foot, relishing the feel of the leather and the sharp report when it connected with my skin. Each lash made my pussy quiver. I was sure my dripping cunt was soaking the upholstery, but I was too turned on to care.
The whipping was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Sam tossed the belt aside, and then I heard the rasp of his zipper right before his hard cock plunged into me in one thrust. He grasped my tender cheeks and began fucking me hard and fast, as turned on from spanking me as I was from being spanked.
I cried out every time he thrust his dick into my sopping pussy. I had been waiting to feel this all night long: Sam’s cock pounding into my cunt over and over, while his hips slammed up against my well-spanked ass. It seemed the heat from my cheeks was rapidly spreading throughout my entire cunt. Sam kept up his rapid thrusting and reached around to strum my clit with his fingers. I was bucking and writhing so badly I have no idea how he managed to stay on target, but he continued to flick his fingertips over my swollen button as he fucked me.
In what felt like seconds, I was screaming out loud as my orgasm burst forth, overwhelming me like a tidal wave. I was crying and shaking and kept thrusting back at Sam, wanting to feel his cock explode inside me. Just as my orgasm was beginning to fade, Sam groaned loudly and his cock pulsed the moment before I felt the warmth of his spurting come fill my cunt.
Sam wrapped his arms around me and gently collapsed onto my back. We were too breathless to speak, but neither of us needed to. Moments later, we shared a tender kiss before Sam led me to bed, where we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
—Ms. Melissa K., Chicago, Illinois
A Cock Cage Keeps Him Secure and Under His Mistress’s Control
I have been under my wife’s thumb since before we married. Veronica and I started playing mistress and slave as an occasional bedroom game, but I guess we both took to the parts so well that it eventually became a lifestyle.
Veronica’s dominance of me really took off the day I brought home a locking cock cage. She was pleased with my purchase and cooed with joy when she saw how snugly the leather straps wrapped around my cock and balls. When she snicked shut the little brass padlocks and saw my helplessness, her face lit up with a smile. Bowing my head, I presented her with the key, offering myself as her slave for the night.
Of course, she happily accepted my offering and ordered me to lie down on the bed. Straddling my face, she demanded that I eat her to at least three orgasms before she would let me rest. Without waiting for my answer—not that I would have refused—she plopped her pussy down on my face.
Well, nothing pleases me more than making my mistress come, so I immediately set to work, causing her to writhe ecstatically on my face. I lapped up her musky juice, and my cock swelled as much as it could inside the leather and metal contraption. It held my cock and balls in its unforgiving grip, and I knew I would be unable to achieve orgasm until my mistress deemed I was worthy. The relentless lapping of my tongue and the sight of my cock in bondage combined to bring her to the height of ecstasy. In mere minutes, my mistress was quivering above me as she shuddered through her orgasm.
Veronica gleefully kept my cock and balls locked up for the entire weekend and demanded that I serve her every need. I followed her orders to the letter, wearing nothing the whole time except that wicked cock cage. I cleaned the house, washed her clothes, and prepared all of our meals. I thought if I were the model of obedience she might allow me release, but all she left me with after my weekend of servitude was a hard, throbbing dick.
The cock-and-ball cage was only the beginning. We’ve been married more than ten years, and she’s developed all sorts of devious ways to control me and reflect her dominance over me. She speaks of my cock and balls as just another possession of hers, like a purse or a pair of shoes. I know that I exist solely for her pleasure. She controls all my ejaculations, commanding me to jerk off for her whenever her mood calls for it and denying me orgasm as she sees fit. She’ll often make me stroke my cock until it begins to drool, then make me put it back in my pants with no relief. It is difficult to do, but I strive to please her. Nothing makes me happier than seeing her satisfied smile, even if my desperate cock is aching in my shorts. I am willing to do anything for her.
On the infrequent occasions that I am allowed to ejaculate, she rarely allows me to continue stroking myself to completion. She orders me to kneel on the floor in front of her and beat off while gazing up at her overpowering presence. As soon as I squirt one spurt out onto her foot, she orders me to stop touching myself, which cuts my orgasm short. Then I am required to sit on
my heels as my cock twitches helplessly. When she gives her permission for me to move, I am allowed to squeeze out whatever remains in my cock onto her shoe.
Next, she will order me to turn around. She pushes my legs apart and grabs hold of my balls, trapping them in her palm. The cock cage holds them out from my body as if I am presenting them to her. She tugs on them as she raises her leg, presenting me with her come-spattered foot. “You know what I expect!” she barks. “Clean up your mess!” Without meeting her steely gaze, I humbly lap up my still-warm come, not stopping until her shoe is shiny with my saliva.
As I licked her to orgasm one recent evening, she told me that she wanted to have sex with one of the male nurses at the hospital where she works. His name is Derek and the word among her female coworkers was that he was hung like a horse, which really appealed to my wife since I have an average-size penis. She got herself—and me—all worked up as she talked about exactly how she would fuck him:
“I want to feel that monster cock inside me, stretching my pussy to its fullest and making me come. After I’ve reached orgasm a few times, he’ll come inside me, and my quivering pussy will milk his big cock dry of all the wonderful juice his balls have to offer. Then I’ll come home with my pussy filled with his cream and rub it all over your face as proof of what I’ve done!”
The idea of Veronica screwing another man and making me eat his come out of her well-fucked cunt was incredibly thrilling. However, I didn’t think she would actually do it! But one Saturday evening, Veronica had done her hair and makeup, and was wearing the sexiest dress that she owned: a little black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline. She had me strip naked and kneel in front of her, ordering me to put my hands out and snapping a set of handcuffs around my wrists. I tested my bonds and, of course, there was no chance of escape—not that I wanted to do anything of the sort. My cock was pointing straight out and was rock-hard as Veronica described her wicked plan to me.
Her dominant girlfriend, Wendy, was due to come over any minute. When she arrived, my wife would leave me in her very stern and capable hands, while she went off on her date with Derek. As soon as the words fell from her lips, the doorbell rang. Wendy entered our house, dressed in a black satin corset, leather pants, and stiletto heels, and attached a leash to the slave collar around my neck. “Have fun, Veronica!” she called out to my wife as she headed out the door.
Wendy is the kind of woman who makes my body tremble from just looking at her. Everything about her says “severe,” from her slicked-back, jet-black hair to her towering height of six feet to her sharp black boots. She tugged on the leash, ordering me to get on my hands and knees.
She sat down on the couch, then eased off her leather pants. Although I was only inches away from her, she didn’t let me taste her. Instead, she played with her pussy while she regaled me with her thoughts about what my mistress and her well-hung lover were doing. “Look at your puny little cock. I bet Veronica’s getting fucked good and hard by a man who can really give her what her pussy needs!” she said, noticing how my dick swelled against the confines of its cage. “I bet you wish you were there watching them, witnessing the proper way to fuck your mistress. You wish you could taste me, too—but you can’t,” she said as I salivated. I was transfixed by the sight of her finger rubbing her clit, then diving into her hole. Wendy teased me as she masturbated before me, never allowing me a taste of her sweet pussy. By the time Veronica returned, my cock was absolutely begging for relief.
As my mistress swept through the door, I saw that her cheeks were flushed in that special way of a woman who’s recently been fucked. She smiled when she took in Wendy’s disheveled, but satisfied, state—she’d brought herself to orgasm three times in my presence and was sitting there smoking a cigarette. Wendy put on her clothes and informed Veronica that I was very well behaved in her absence. Veronica thanked her and walked her out, before returning to me.
“Well, slave, you’ve been a pretty good boy, and I think your cock deserves a brief respite from its cage, even though I like the way it looks locked up tight,” she said. As she knelt and unfastened the cage, her hair fell out of its clip and brushed against my skin, making me shiver.
“Eat me while you jerk off, and I’ll tell you about my date,” she demanded. I got right down to business, sticking my tongue into her hole while jerking myself off. She spared me no detail of her wild encounter, which involved them fucking in the car, her giving him a blowjob in the bathroom of a restaurant, and him making her come five times with his fat cock.
As I lapped at her dripping pussy, I tasted her juices and his! She made sure to tell me that he’d ejaculated inside her and that I was eating his come as well as her nectar, which only spurred me on. I cupped my other hand down below and released my load into my palm. Then I focused solely on her cunt, sparking her sixth orgasm of the night. When she was done, she had me draw her a bath, then recaged my cock, making sure I knew that she’d decide if and when I got to come again.
Since then, she has done the same thing almost every two to three months. Her pussy gets the itch for Derek’s big cock, and she plans a meeting to get her fill. I think I love her now more than ever.
—Mr. Lee H., Atlanta, Georgia
Being Blindfolded and Strung Up Gives Her the Freedom to Savor His Cock
When the phone rang late yesterday afternoon, I was in the middle of composing a press release, so I let the machine pick up. “Sherry, I know you’re there. Stop what you’re doing right now and pick up the phone…”
I smiled to myself. It had to be Doug, my boyfriend for the past three months. He always seemed to want to try something new and mischievous, and he especially loved trying to distract me, tweaking my nipples while I’m talking on the phone or coming up behind me to rub his cock against my ass while I’m trying to prepare dinner.
I tried to ignore him as I typed, my mind half on my client and half on Doug’s fabulous cock. “You’re not going to listen to me? Okay, well, then maybe I won’t give you the present I just got for you,” he said, his voice lilting upward as he teased me, knowing I can’t resist a gift.
I tore myself away from the computer and picked up the phone. “Doug, don’t tease me like that! What is it?” I asked, laughing as I spoke.
“Do you think you’re going to get me to tell you so easily? You don’t know me very well, then, do you? Finish what you’re doing and slip into your purple nightie, the short one that barely covers your ass. Do it now!” he commanded, and then hung up. Rather than getting upset at his peremptory tone, I was soaking wet. Somehow, when Doug tells me what to do, my pussy instantly responds. I quickly turned off the computer and scurried to do as he’d instructed, and I had slipped the short silk gown over my head, feeling it fall to just below my ass, when the doorbell rang. Had he called while standing outside? How else could he have arrived so quickly? But I didn’t have time to ponder what he was up to—I simply raced to the door and threw it open. The sight of my guy, looking extra-sexy in his black T-shirt, black leather jacket, and faded jeans that molded to his body, sent my heart racing.
“Hi, baby!” I said, jumping up and wrapping my legs around him while giving him a big, juicy kiss.
He returned the kiss as he stepped forward into the house. He lifted me off him and positioned me so I was facing the door. “Close your eyes, Sherry,” he said, moving swiftly from our greeting to the real attraction between us—our pure sexual need for each other. I dutifully shut my eyes, and he brought his hands up to cover them. “I’m going to give you a night you’ll remember for a long time,” he whispered, his breath tingling along my sensitive neck. Then, in hardly any time at all, he’d replaced his hands with a blindfold, slipping it easily over my head. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel the light pressure of the band against the back of my head. “This way you won’t be able to see what I’m about to do to you,” said Doug, as his fingers slipped between my legs to stroke my pussy lips. I pressed down against him, my body shuddering
as the strength of his touch made my cunt ache. He pressed his fingers inside me for a brief moment, then brought them to my lips so I could taste my juices. Then he delicately lifted my nightie over my head so I was wearing only panties. I could hear him undressing as well, and was sure of it when he rubbed his hard cock against my backside, but that was just a small glimpse of what was to come.
Then Doug swooped me up and carried me into the bedroom, where he arranged me, faceup, across the bed, first taking my panties off before spreading my legs wide. He took my panties and whisked them briefly under my nose, the heady scent of my arousal strong. “I want you to be nice and quiet; if you’re not, I might have to stuff these panties in your mouth,” he said, and I moaned as the image of him doing so sent delightful shivers to my pussy.
I was sure that my juices were starting to dribble out of my cunt, but that was nothing compared to the jangling sound that then rippled through the room. Doug didn’t say a word, but I could feel him moving around me, and when he lifted one of my hands above my head, my breath began coming out in short, ragged gasps. “I want to make sure you stay still for me; I know how animated you can get.” I blushed because he was right—the other day, I’d gotten so aroused and moved around so much that we’d almost fallen off the bed. Hearing the clink of the handcuffs as they snapped into place made me all the more turned on, and when he followed suit with the other wrist, I tugged against my restraints. There was enough give that I could move slightly, giving the illusion of possible escape, but a sharper tug proved that I was trapped, just as Doug wanted. He must have read my mind because he said, “Go ahead, Sherry, tug all you want, but you’re going to stay right there until I’m done fucking you.”
Letters to Penthouse XXXII Page 11
