“Oh now, there’s no reason to be jealous! Although I admit, I rather like it on you.”
“Who said I was jealous?”
Jonathon reached over and felt her forehead, “Just checking to see if the fever’s back. You’ve got to be sick if you think I thought of another thing the entire time but you. In my mind it was you sucking my cock.”
Ellen lurched in front of him, “She sucked your cock?” Through the pain she managed to crawl from the bed and stand upright for all of one minute.
Jonathon caught her before she hit the floor, “Whoa there pony! Let’s not add a banged head to your list of illnesses.” He settled her back on the bed but she glared at him furiously the entire time.
“Before you burn me at the stake, let me remind you that you’re the new queen bee of the club now. I imagine there’ll be a lot of cock sucking in your future too, little lady.” And he settled back beside her on the bed confident she was too weak to retaliate.
“Why me? Did I swat their little penises while they were fucking my mother? Now they have a special place in their rotten hearts for me because I gave them an added thrill from the womb?”
Jonathon laughed as he rested his head on his hand on the pillow next to her, “That’s pretty harsh, Ellen. I’d really prefer if you didn’t talk that way. But no, it’s simpler than that. If the Club mutinys, the victim instantly becomes their new master. It’s a bottom line deterrent but it has worked, till now. Look, I’m not going to say some serious changes don’t need to be made; Elise’s been too tired to pay much attention to what’s going on. I think Cynthia took that as an opportunity to slide back into management. She’d trained most of the old dudes, so they respected her. If she said you needed branding then they brought the matches. But you have to admit, you’re in the perfect position to make the club what it can be.”
The pain medicine was taking over and Ellen felt light headed as she leaned back against the soft pillows. “It’s stupid you know, having one woman run the whole thing.”
He stared at her speechless, “What do you mean?”
She sat upright as much as possible, “You’re training the wrong people, dumbass. Train the wives to control their own fucking husbands!”
Repeating words I’d read somewhere, I lord over him with clothespins in hand, “Do you consent?”
Tara Townsend
~Tara Townsend
My Path to the Pole
3 Masked Men
“Why Tara! You look stunning today dear!”
I blush, “Oh Jonathon. I swear sugar just drools from you! Thank you.”
“Yes, yes,” he murmurs as I step into the open doorway. “I take it you’re happy with the changes taking place?”
I smile graciously and take his arm as he leads me into his massive over cluttered library. As a matter of fact, it’s so full of heavy furniture and varying shades of book covers, upholstery and leather, that I find it difficult to focus on one object. Fortunately, he points to a chair and hands me chilled vodka or else I’d stand here all day long examining objects of interest. I study the room in detail as I sip the strong liquid from the tiny glass. Jonathon always seems so well put together, organized if you will. It’s almost startling to see the menagerie of collections that encompass three walls of dark stained bookcases. I’ll bet not a single knick knack in the room isn’t valuable; it’s the sheer number of them that makes it resemble a dusty antique shop. And here we are… one mention of the word ‘dust’ and Vagina is awake and excited to find herself at Jonathon’s.
“So things are going well?” Jonathon sits across from me on a matching leather sofa wearing the look of an expectant parent. Except, of course, for the bulge in his pants, which is rather evident and manners say I shouldn’t notice.
“Pretty well. No reaction from Simmons of course, but that’s kind of the way I expected it.” I lean back and relax in the overstuffed arm chair, crossing my legs and giving him a ‘Paris Peek’ as I do. It’s not that I mean to sound depressing, but well, it is depressing that my hair is blond again, my teeth are whiter, my nails are long and red and I’m wearing clothes that accentuate my features, yet my husband hasn’t bothered to once look up from his writing to notice.
Jonathon grins like a man with a secret, “Oh well. This is sad news. But Tara, I promise you still that Simmons will come around. There’s hope for him yet!” he cheers.
I shake my head, “I’ve got to be honest with you, I’m not sure he’s worth it anymore. I think he’s having an affair.” There, it’s the first time I’ve said it out loud and the words sound harsh to my heart.
He leans forward, “You aren’t still considering divorce are you?”
“I don’t know Jonathon, I swear I don’t. There’s not another man in the world I want, but he’s never home anymore. We have no relationship at all.”
Jonathon chuckles and doesn’t seem to be taking me seriously, “I doubt he’s having an affair, dear. He’d be a fool. I don’t believe Simmons to be a fool do you?”
I shake my head, “No I don’t. But men have needs.”
“Yes we do, and so do you! That’s what today is about, needs. Upstairs there are three men who need satisfying. Do you think you can handle that for me, Tara?”
With an evil grin, I nod. And I’m glad he changed the subject. As long as I have sex on my mind, the problems at home don’t seem quite as weighty.
Jonathon chuckles, “You seem confident about that, my bright shiny penny!”
“I think I am more confident now. You, everyone has been so gentle with me. I have to tell you I’m waiting on the torture part.”
He sits forward and gazes into my eyes and I see love there, “Have you ever had a splinter in your finger, Tara?”
“Of course,” I answer, feeling once again like I’m visiting the principal’s office and this is a test.
“Then you know how wonderful it feels when it’s gone?”
I nod my head in acknowledgement.
“And when it’s gone, you can think of nothing else but how good it feels to have it out of your skin, though it really didn’t do any harm. But that’s not the important part. The important part is what were you thinking while it was still inside you?” Jonathon studies me like a professor searching for a light bulb in his student’s eye.
I consider his question, “While it’s there, all I can think about is how bad it hurts!” I think I sound silly but Jonathon touches his forefinger to his nose.
“Exactly! And that’s why it feels so good; it’s gone! There’s a powerful release involved with instigating and removing pain. Being a woman of religion, I’m sure you’ve heard ‘give and you shall receive?’”
“Sure.”
“Alright then, you understand how giving pleasure can be quite satisfying to the giver?”
And I consider the bathroom at the bar, how Vagina and Clitoris had partied, oh how they’d partied. Sucking that cock, feeling it harden and spit its powerful venom into my mouth. Well he has a point; it excites the hell out of me. “I think giving is a powerful emotion,” I answer plainly.
Jonathon stands in front of me. I struggle from the deep chair as he takes my hand, “Great! Then I want you to climb all the way up to the fourth floor, and there you’ll find today’s lesson.”
Oh no! I don’t know anything about dominating anyone? What should I do? Boil some water! Lordy bee’s, I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies! “Ugh, Jonathon, I don’t know what to do.”
He chuckles, “And you never will if you don’t climb those steps.”
So I climb the stairs, all four flights of them. By the time I reach the upstairs landing, I needed an inhaler and another shot of vodka. Again the unmistakable scent of Chanel Number Five erupts my senses. I search around in the fading afternoon light but find no one to blame it on. The only thing on the top landing is a small table beside a door. I pick up a handwritten note left on it and read, “Lock the door after you enter. You may use as many of the
accoutrements as you wish. They all have the same safe word, ‘Jupiter.’ They are instructed not to speak at all, but if they say that word you must instantly release them. You are only to use the parts open to you.” I laugh; it’s a silly safe word but not one that can be mistaken during sex. I wonder who in the world thought that one up. I open the door and close it behind me. As I’m fumbling to lock the door, I realize I’m far from alone.
My eyes adjust to the room slowly, but they’re working overtime to absorb what little is already coming into focus. There are men here, three of them. Flight instinct blares to the forefront of my mind, but curiosity wins the battle as I wander towards the man closest to me. He’s wearing a dark leather ski mask. I had no idea such a thing exists. And it has chains that secure his head to the table he’s lying on. His wrists, stomach and ankles are also tightly chained to the table, and I’m fascinated by the intricate difficulty that’s been put into securing him. I’m starting to have a Hannibal Lector moment. In an attic… with three extremely dangerous men! Vagina hides behind her sister. But what startles me the most is that he’s wearing a dark suit, like he’s just popped in after work for a little bondage before heading home to dinner. On the right front lapel of his suit jacket is the unmistakable crest of the Sand Dunes Club. I gawk at it, because it is so undeniable. A small lapel pin with a tiny sand dune and the ‘all seeing eye’ above it. Still there’s a task at hand. His pants are unzipped and his cock stands straight up through the opening. I wonder at his excitement, what happened before I walked in? Someone had to be here to chain him this way? My eyes scan the room rapidly but all three men are securely chained in various stances around the room and there are no other doors inside the attic space.
I’m not going to lie, I feel disappointed. I’ve been waiting to meet the illustrious Ellen Devereux for some time now. Even through my jealousy, I’m anxious to meet her. I keep catching whiffs of her perfume around the house. There are so many things I’d like to ask her, so many things I need answers for. Patty adores her.
But I turn my attention back to the lesson at hand, three men, all chained, and a table full of interesting looking devices. I pick up a handful of silver clothespins and study them, wondering if they’re the same ones Elise used on Jonathon. The image of him, tied to a table in this warm attic stirs Vagina to bravery.
Repeating words I’d read somewhere, I lord over him with clothespins in hand, “Do you consent?”
The masked man’s head nods ever so slightly. I’m mesmerized by the lack of eye holes in the leather mask he’s wearing. Suddenly I’m interested to know who he is, but the instructions say only use the parts open to me, and with the dangerous array of items on the table over there I dare not break the rules. I admit they frighten me a little. I think they’ve been gentle on me so far, but I sense that if I get out of line, I’m not immune to the accoutrements on the table. I scan the dark room to see that each man has a part of them void of clothing and I can’t help but wonder what they’ve done to be chained here like this.
Again I’m curious as to who they are. We can count Jonathon out because he was just downstairs. I study the man below me again, smaller than Simmons, and I can see the dark shadow of a long day on the small part of his neck that’s free. Just as I thought: He stopped by on his way home from work! He’s still wearing a red and yellow striped tie; it’s currently thrown over the right side of his suit coat and his cock is stone hard. I peer down at it, interested to notice the veins bulging from its sides. A female voice sounds behind me, “Suck it, pinch it, love it.” I spin around, but no one is there and I’ve locked the doors. It’s was a woman’s voice, plain and clear! Speakers, it must be speakers! If they’re small enough they wouldn’t be hard to miss in this dim light. So Ellen or someone is watching me.
And that thought excites me. Vagina and Clitoris are busy studying the man on the table but hot blood courses through my veins at the thought that someone is watching. Now I want to suck it, and pinch it and make love to it. I want to show off, prove that I can do this. I lean over and open my mouth wide, taking the offered cock in to the back of my throat at once. My intention is to startle it, catch it off guard. And I succeed; balls below me shrivel and thrust against my chin. I nuzzle them gently with a small sway of my head as I suck the hard cock. It surrounds me now; the masculine smell of his dark curled hairs against my cheek, the way he throbs in my mouth. I can tell he’s struggling. I feel compassion for him because I think he’s fighting against his own pleasure so that he can please me! I know for a fact now that restraining an orgasm is torture. Suddenly I love this man. The more lessons’ I have, the more I’m starting to believe I’m going to need a Harem. It absolutely has to be impossible to feel love for this many men. But I do love them in my own way. Not like I love my husband, but I love them all the same. I love that they’re willing to teach and learn, that they’ve never given up trying new things. It’s courageous and I want to feel their strength. Suddenly I realize my plight. In this case, I’m the professor and these three men are my willing students. Well, okay, they’re chained and bound, but what teacher hasn’t fantasized they could bind their students to their seats and gag them? I giggle again assuming the power offered me.
With one hand I reach over and grab one of the clothespins and snap it gently onto his balls, the pain will distract him. I understand that now. It’s the splinter he needs to slow his orgasm. He’s learning control, and he stiffens as the full closure of the clothespin takes effect. I watch in awe as he adjusts to the slight pain in his balls. With a tightening of my lips I begin again, pulling him into my mouth like drinking a frosty through a straw. But as I lavish him with my tongue I can feel him losing this battle. His orgasm is back with vengeance, and he’s grinding his jaw again in an attempt to control his thoughts. I realize I’m not a very good teacher; compassion for him matches my desire to feel his orgasm in my mouth. Although I want to continue licking him, tasting the small stream of slipperiness that escapes his control, I realize there are two more men in the room. I lift my head up, “You can come now,” I whisper as I release the clothespin. And he comes, and comes, and comes.
I’ve always said the reason southern men start their girlfriends on raw oysters right away is to train them to like come. In my case it’s worked, and as his hot orgasm spills past my lips and chin, I take care to swallow what I can. His body shivers with the last thrust and I lick it gently from his tip. I hate to leave this beautiful man, after all I’m in love with him, but Vagina and Clitoris urge me to move on. Softly, I peck his lips, allowing him a small hint of his juices that now belong to me.
The second man is on his back on a similar table, he’s dressed and bound the same except… and I scan his body… he’s fully clothed! I search for something I’ve missed but his clothing is fully intact. The only unclothed parts are his hands, but they’re bound tightly to the table and of course his nose and mouth. That’s it. His mouth! Vagina and Clitoris jump for joy. They’ve waited patiently through my soul searching blow job and are ready to take their turn. I bend over and pull my dress over my shoulders. I’ll leave the red bra on and I haven’t worn panties so I climb onto the table unencumbered. Turning around I put my knees on either side of his head and my hands on his stomach. His tongue shoots out to greet Clitoris as if they are long lost lovers. They play Hide and Seek, and Ring around the Rosie as I swing them forwards and backwards with my hips. I feel giddy, my skin crawls with tiny sparks each time his tongue touches me, and the sensation spreads straight to my breasts. I push my head into his clothed crotch as I grind myself into his face, like the Tramp I am. I can’t help but notice the faint scent of formaldehyde on his slacks. But my every thought is consumed, taken away, leaving nothing but his mouth. My strokes become longer and slower, allowing his tongue to slip inside me at intervals. Vagina loves it; I shiver with anticipation. And swiftly that anticipation is paid in full beneath his strong tongue. My body roars with orgasm. On my hands and knees I must look like
a lioness roaring into the wild, but I can’t control it. It bursts from me without permission. I feel my hair slap against my back as my head groans ecstasy into the air.
Even as I climb from the table and bend to kiss his lips with gratitude, I know that Vagina is nowhere near finished. I step towards the third and final man and she dances with Pom-Pom’s as I see that his pants are open and a beautiful cock stands at her beck and call. On the table next to him is a packaged condom. Now I haven’t used a condom in my life. I was a virgin when I married Simmons, or did I tell you that already? Of course I was! ‘Goody Two Shoes,’ remember? Well, never mind, just know that I have no idea what to do with this. I pull one side of the package and open it. It’s one piece of thin rubber, how difficult can it be? After a few moments of moving it around a bit in my fingers, I think I have a fairly good grip on the anatomy, so I lean over the hard cock and slide it slowly on. A thin rubber band holds it in place at the root and I wonder if it’s not too tight. I could ask? “Is this too tight?” I whisper. But my voice is gruff with need and I sound strange to myself.
The cock bounces high in front of me as if to raise its hand to say that it’s okay. I giggle a little as I climb on top of it and wet it with my lips. Strawberry flavored condoms? Now I’ve heard it all. But Vagina’s screaming and I can’t concentrate on anything else. I lower myself onto him slowly, feeling the sweet pressure of being completely filled. Sitting upright to absorb him fully, I examine the man below me. He’s large. I love large powerful men. Actually he may be the same man in the bedroom when I was blindfolded! Quickly I glance down at his hands, although I never saw them that day, I feel like I’d recognize them if I did. But his hands are gloved. Vagina puts her hands on her hips, I guess that means you aren’t supposed to play with that part! Now can we get moving?
Goody Two Shoes Page 21
