by Anna Cundell
‘The little slut…’ she heard Gulliver say, and as she slowly recovered she felt herself being pulled up and turned on her back. Gulliver then took hold of her ankles and pulled them up until her legs were vertical. He had lowered his trousers to his knees and his prick, spearing out from beneath his shirttails, nudged against her buttocks. It was gnarled with a network of veins, and the glans was bulbous.
Her head lolled back, her hair sweeping the carpet, and in this upside-down world she saw Anouska getting to her feet and moving until the hem of the scarlet dress was immediately above Clare’s face. She reached behind her back, unzipped the dress and peeled it off, then she placed a foot on either side of Clare’s head and Clare found herself staring up Anouska’s beautifully contoured legs. She could see the tops of her stockings, pulled into peaks by peachy-coloured suspenders, and the crotch of her matching French knickers. Above that her breasts were neatly encased in a lacy peach bra.
‘You know what’s required of you,’ she said.
Clare was still in a daze from her unexpected orgasm. But her head cleared rapidly when she felt Gulliver’s cock prodding into her sex, sinking deep until his balls rolled against her buttocks.
Now she knew why she was there. Everything at the clinic was directed and watched over by Dr Hammer, but now her obedience depended on her own volition. It was another obedience test designed to show her that her submissiveness was not dependent upon one man.
Gulliver began fucking her vigorously, inducing a flood of sensations that echoed the orgasm she’d had minutes before. ‘Lovely tight cunt,’ the man said through gritted teeth.
Clare could see them both above her, their eyes fixed on each other, as if Gulliver was fucking Anouska through the medium of her body. He leant forward over the supine girl and kissed the brunette passionately, and she returned the kiss just as fiercely, their tongues twisting together.
Anouska lowered herself until her knees were on either side of Clare’s head. ‘You know what to do,’ she said.
And Clare did. She reached around Anouska’s thighs to support herself and lifted her head until her lips were touching the silky crotch of the French knickers. With her teeth she managed to pull the material away from Anouska’s sex lips and ease it to one side, then she kissed her shaven smoothness. The tremor of excitement she could feel in the brunette was matched by a similar reaction in her own body.
She tried to control herself and concentrate on Anouska, prodding her tongue between her labia and finding her clit. Circling it slowly she felt Anouska shudder as her tongue found that special spot and concentrated on it.
‘Yes, yes, don’t stop,’ Anouska urged throatily, and her thighs began to press tightly against Clare’s cheeks, and she could feel her clitoris pulsing as her tongue provoked it.
‘Oh yes,’ Anouska gasped. ‘I’m… I’m…’ She clamped her legs together, threw her head back and made an odd gurgling sound, as Clare felt a rush of juices coat her mouth and chin, the stool creaking quietly as Gulliver ploughed back and forth between her rubber-clad thighs, butting aggressively against her. It felt strange not to be bound, but the rubber cat-suit gave her the impression of constriction she had come to crave so much.
Suddenly Gulliver pulled out of her, and she felt it probe between her buttocks, against the puckered corona of her anus. The feeling of his glans nosing against her sphincter produced such an acute pang of deliciously wicked sensation that Clare gasped.
‘No,’ Anouska said.
‘Why not?’ he grunted.
‘You know the rules.’ Anouska reached down and pulled his cock up. ‘Let me do it,’ she said.
Clare felt the woman’s fingers wrap around his shaft, moving rapidly up and down, her knuckles brushing against Clare’s clitoris.
‘Oh yes… yes…’ Gulliver moaned, and his spunk erupted onto Clare’s flat tummy, pooling there and quickly cooling on her flesh. Clare pressed her mouth upward, wanting to taste the wonderful juices of Anouska’s sex, then lost all control and surrendered to the bliss that flooded over her.
Clare sat on the bed naked, eating the contents of the breakfast tray she had found by the door when she woke up. The rubber cat-suit lay on the floor where she’d dropped it the previous night.
Her room was as utilitarian as the one at the clinic, with a single bed and a wooden chair, but at least she had a window with a view of the large chestnut trees that dominated the walled garden at the back of the house. Like the clinic there was an adjoining bathroom – without a door or a mirror. There was no video camera either, or at least not one that she could see.
The male servant who’d served dinner had locked her in. There was food waiting for her on the bed, and exhausted, she’d taken a shower, eaten the food and gone to bed, falling asleep almost the moment her head touched the pillow. She had no idea how long she’d slept, but when she woke the sun was high in the sky and she was sure it was almost noon. Once again her sleep was apparently dreamless and undisturbed. In fact, she couldn’t remember sleeping so well. Sleep had taken on the dimension of a sensual delight.
She finished the tasty food and showered again, and was just towelling herself dry when she heard the key turning in the lock and Anouska walked into the bathroom.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said. ‘I hope you slept well. That is the point of all this, after all. Helmut is very good at what he does.’ She was wearing a short black skirt over a tight white V-necked top, which moulded itself to her breasts.
‘I thought you and I should go on a little journey this afternoon, a little exploration,’ she told Clare. ‘Come with me.’
Anouska walked back into the bedroom and Clare followed. Lying on the bed was a red satin waspie, with black laces and black suspenders, a pair of glossy black stockings and a pair of red high heels.
‘Put those on,’ Anouska ordered. ‘I want you to look your best.’
Clare picked up the corset. It was heavily boned and curved inward to the waist dramatically. She stepped into it and managed to pull it up over her hips. The material was cold and immediately made her nipples tighten.
‘Lie on the bed, so I can tighten the laces,’ Anouska told her, and Clare lay on her stomach. She felt Anouska’s fingers first freeing the laces then beginning to pull them tight one row at a time, starting at the top and working down. By the time she reached the middle of the garment she was using her knee in the small of Clare’s back so she could exercise the maximum force, cinching the laces tighter and tighter.
‘That’s better,’ she said eventually, tying them off.
Clare felt as if a giant hand was squeezing her. At first it was even difficult to breath, but that soon passed and very rapidly she found the sensation of being gripped so rigidly was not at all unpleasant. In contrast, her breasts and buttocks, free from constriction, both felt soft and malleable.
She sat up, and as she leant forward to roll the stocking over her left foot the boning of the corset dug deeply into her waist. She rolled the sheer stockings up over her legs and then clipped the black welt into the suspenders, the metal clip hidden by a sash of red satin. She repeated the process with her right leg, then smoothed both stockings up to eliminate the slightest wrinkle, readjusting one of the suspenders to hold the stocking more tightly.
When she was finished she stood up and stepped into the shoes.
‘Sit on the bed,’ Anouska said. ‘You’re going to need make-up.’
No matter how many times it had happened to her Clare found it hard to sit and let another woman make her up. Without a mirror she had no idea how she looked.
‘Good,’ Anouska said when she had finished. ‘Now follow me.’
Clare followed out onto the landing. They walked down a flight of stairs then turned into a corridor with closed doors on either side. Anouska led the way to the end and opened one, then gestured for Clare to
go in.
The room was small and dark. The walls and ceiling were painted black and the carpet was black too. There was a wooden beam running across the middle of the ceiling and hanging from it were leather straps, chains and white nylon ropes. There was a finely crafted wooden rack containing a whole collection of different types of whips and canes. Next to it was a line of brass hooks from which hung leather harnesses, ropes, metal handcuffs, leather helmets, gags and blindfolds.
The two men Clare had seen the previous night were standing stiffly in the middle of the room, as though at attention. Both were identically dressed in rubber G-strings, stretched tightly over their genitals but concealing little. Both wore black leather ankle and wrist cuffs and a studded collar.
‘I don’t think you were properly introduced last night,’ Anouska said, seeing Clare looking at the men. ‘This is Bill…’ she indicated the man who’d served dinner, ‘and this is Ben. They were once patients of my husband,’ she added without further explanation. ‘Well, gentlemen, I’m going to leave the lovely Clare with you. You know what to do. I’ll be back shortly.’ With that Anouska turned and left them alone.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ Bill said the moment the door was closed. He looked Clare up and down appreciatively, then moved forward and caressed her breasts. ‘Great tits.’
‘Aren’t you in enough trouble?’ Ben said. ‘She didn’t give you that last whipping for nothing.’
‘What the eye can’t see the heart can’t grieve over,’ he said, sliding his hand around the satin waspie and down to her buttocks. She could see his cock had started to swell, pushing at the thin rubber that covered it. ‘Isn’t that right, sweetie?’
‘Let’s just get on with it,’ said Ben. ‘Bring her over here.’
Reluctantly Bill took Clare by the arm and led her to where Ben was fiddling with a long, narrow tongue of wood attached to the wall. He folded down a sturdy metal leg, swung out to support it horizontally rather like an ironing board. The wood was padded and covered with black leather and two broad straps hung from it.
‘Lie down here,’ Ben said, indicating the board.
With Anouska gone Clare was tempted to ask the men what was going to happen to her. But she decided she would find out soon enough. She sat on the edge of the padded board and lay down. It was just wide enough for her body, but only long enough to support her torso and head, her legs hanging over the edge.
Bill then lifted and wrapped one of the two leather straps around her waist, trapping her arms at her sides. He buckled it tight. Ben lifted the other and secured it around her shoulders just above her breasts.
It was the first bondage she had experienced at the house and, as if she had any doubt about the effect it had on her, she felt a sudden and powerful surge of excitement. Her already stiff nipples seemed to knot tighter, and she felt a deep warmth spreading out from the pit of her stomach.
The bondage restricted her field of vision and with her arms pinioned to her sides so effectively it was difficult to raise her head for long to see what the men were doing. They disappeared for a moment, and then she felt hands on her ankles and the familiar grip of leather cuffs being wrapped around them.
Both men stood on either side of her. Ben had also developed an erection and she could see it distending the rubber G-string. There seemed to be some sort of complicated pulley arrangement attached to the wall and the ceiling above her. They both took hold of lengths of rope and pulled it down to her legs.
‘Lift your legs,’ Ben ordered, and she did as she was told. It was a considerable strain on her stomach muscles but each man held and supported them, and then tied the rope to the D-rings on the ankle cuffs.
Bill then began to crank a handle, which made a clicking noise on each revolution. Slowly Clare’s legs were drawn up higher, then back towards her head as well as being parted, her feet almost touching the wall above her head, her buttocks lifted and her sex exposed.
‘Having fun?’ Anouska had returned, and Clare rolled her head to the side as the brunette came into her eye line. ‘Well, well, you do look comfortable.’ She was wearing a black PVC corset strapped tightly around her body by means of four wide buckles made from gleaming metal. Under the buckles were a line of metal eyes threaded with laces that had been tightened to the maximum, cinching the garment around her waist and moulding it across her breasts. She wore tiny thong panties in the same material, the crotch so narrow it only just covered her labia. Her legs were sheathed in PVC stockings that clung to them like a second skin, and she wore matching PVC gloves that went right up to her shoulder. Her high-heeled ankle boots were PVC too. Her long hair had been pinned up, making her look even more severe.
She looked down at Clare, gently ran a finger over her lips, and then pushed two fingers into her mouth. ‘Suck them.’
Clare did as she was told, and she could feel the beautifully manicured fingernails against her tongue.
‘We’re almost ready to begin,’ Anouska said, moving away.
Ben leant into Clare’s field of view. He was screwing something into the wall immediately above her head, and when he took his hands away she saw it was a small video camera. Bill had positioned another camera on a tripod.
Anouska moved around and pushed forward so that Clare could feel the slick PVC pressing against her upturned buttocks. ‘You’re wet,’ she observed. ‘Does being tied up so tightly excite you?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ Clare admitted.
‘How convenient.’ Anouska’s gloved hand patted Clare’s sex, then slapped very lightly but enough to make Clare gasp. Then she gasped louder when Anouska’s PVC-covered fingers slipped into the mouth of her vagina and thrust deeper until her knuckles were hard against her labia. Then Clare felt her screw them around.
‘Oh…’ she moaned, her sex closing tightly around the intruders.
‘Mmm… very silky.’ Anouska slowly pulled her fingers out then rested one against Clare’s clit. The tight bondage had already excited her, but the way she was positioned and immobilised seemed to focus everything on her vulnerable sex.
‘You want more?’ Anouska goaded.
‘P-please, mistress.’ It was incredible how needy she had become. She turned her head to look at the two men. They were staring at her, the rubber G-strings obscenely distended by their erections.
‘Like this?’ Anouska moved her finger over Clare’s clitoris, frigging it rapidly, her eyes riveted to her victim’s face, and Clare was overwhelmed by the sudden burst of sensations.
Anouska continued for a moment, then stopped abruptly. ‘Not yet,’ she teased. ‘You’re going to have to learn that your pleasure has to be earned.’
She sucked her fingers, licking the juices from the PVC glove.
‘You know, I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be submissive,’ she mused conversationally. ‘It does have its attractions, doesn’t it? Being the centre of attention like this.’ When Clare said nothing Anouska slapped her thigh. ‘I asked you a question.’
‘Yes, mistress, it does.’ The sharp pain turned inwards and became an equally intense pleasure, serving only to make Clare’s frustration worse.
‘I’m not the type,’ Anouska went on. ‘Helmut made me see that. Yes, like you I had my problems. That’s how I met him. He was able to see what I was missing. I needed to be dominant, you see. Totally in control.’ She looked at the two men awaiting her instructions, then back at the bound girl. ‘Did you like sucking my pussy last night?’
‘Yes, mistress.’ Clare felt a little pulse of pleasure at the thought.
‘Good, because you’re going to do it again.’
Anouska walked around to Clare’s side. ‘Ben, over here,’ she said imperiously, pointing to her side. The man hastened to obey. ‘I can see you find her attractive, so this shouldn’t be too unpleasant for you. Take the G-string off.’
Ben slid the tiny rubber garment down to his ankles and stepped out of it, his erection nudging against his belly. His cock was covered in a condom, not a normal condom but one made of thicker rubber that covered his balls as well.
Clare felt Anouska’s slick fingers briefly caressing her labia, then holding her open and guiding the bulbous tip of Ben’s erection into position, ready to invade her. Slowly the rubber-covered cock slid forward and she gasped. It was hot and very hard, and it sank deeper and deeper, thrusting into her until she could feel the glans nudging the neck of her womb. Clare raised her head and looked at Ben through misty eyes, standing at the apex of her thighs. But she couldn’t keep her head raised for long and lowered it again, staring straight up into the lens of the camera positioned above her head.
‘All right, you know what to do,’ Anouska said.
The man pulled his cock out almost to the lips of Clare’s pussy then thrust back in again.
‘Oh god,’ Clare moaned before she could stop herself. This was so good. She raised her head again, wanting to see herself, the tight red corset, her nipples so hard, the leather straps holding her down, the black stocking tops pulled into dark chevrons on her thighs, the heels of the shoes pointing towards the wall.
The familiar strains of an orgasm began to percolate through her body. Each time Ben’s cock forged into her a new wave of pleasure was created, everything conspiring to accelerate her to a shattering climax.
Anouska cupped Clare’s face in her hands and turned her head so she was looking right at her. ‘Do you want me to make him stop?’ There was a cruel smile on her face.
‘No, no please don’t.’ Clare knew she was capable of it. In fact, it might be what she had planned to do all along, depriving Clare of her pleasure to prove to her once again that she had no will of her own and was entitled to nothing by right. But the odd thing was that the threat only made Clare more excited.
