by Pat Powers
"Master, the thong fabric is advanced, but not really useful for contraception," said Cindy.
"Do tell," said Jack as he tied a set of straps that dangled from the end of the vibrator to the rings in her belt, so that the vibrator was held tight within her and would not slip out.
"Beg me to turn it on," Jack ordered.
"Please turn it on, master," Cindy cried. "I beg you!"
She loved to be made to beg for sex, the more abjectly the better.
"Do you beg this favor out of need?" Jack asked, toying with her.
"I beg this favor out of the deepest, most abject of slavegirl needs," said Cindy. "I need to feel the vibrator in my pussy. I am helpless, I am yours, I beg you to make me feel this."
Jack flipped the vibrator to the "on" position and Cindy moaned as it began its insidious vibrating. Her thong would be soaked. She would have to wash it. Later.
Jack didn't trust the dildo thong to do its work alone. He knelt beside Cindy and rubbed her breasts, her ass, her thighs, and kissed her lips. He squatted over her and allowed her to suck his cock, taking it out before he came. She begged him to come in her mouth, but Jack refused. He wanted to stay in peak form for the next few hours.
After a long, intense time in which Cindy was reduced to a moaning animal writhing in Jack's bonds, Jack unfastened the straps that held her vibrator in place and pulled it out of her. It came out sticky, for Cindy's copious dew had soaked right through the thong.
Jack then used his cock as a substitute for the vibrator for a time, and he kept the thong in place for that time, shoving it deep into her with his cock. Cindy found herself wishing he would pull the thong off her and just do her, in an animal sort of way, but Jack did not. He came right into the thong.
Now he was willing to pull the thong off her, removing her legs from the spreader bar to do so. She was glad of that, she didn't want the come-covered, thoroughly love-juiced thing around her waist any more. But Jack had a surprise in store for her.
He sat on Cindy's chest, his knees resting on either side of her head, his cock dangling above her, a long string of stuff drooling out of it. He held Cindy's thong in his hand, dangling it over her head, then holding it under her nose to smell. It smell like essence of sex.
"You will recall that earlier today you threw this at me," said Jack, smiling evilly. "Now, do you really think a slavegirl should throw things at her master?"
"I threw myself at you when we first met, master," said Cindy.
"Yeah, that's true," Jack said thoughtfully. "Still, this isn't a metaphor. This is an object. And you threw it at me."
"It's not the first thong you had thrown at you today," Cindy pointed out.
"No, it's not," Jack said. "But you're the only one whose thong matters."
Cindy thrilled to hear these words. The other women's thongs were just bits of cloth. Hers mattered to Jack.
Jack carefully folded the thong in on itself, so that the sex cache contained the waist straps and the crotch strap.
"Say, aahh," said Jack, holding the thong directly over her mouth.
He was going to put it in her mouth! Now, this wasn't the first time that Jack had gagged Cindy with her own thong. In fact, it was a favorite practice of his. But knowing this, Cindy had always made a point of showering and putting on freshly laundered undies before a session with Jack, and the thong always came off early, so that it was pretty much like stuffing any other clean piece of cloth into her mouth.
This thong had been worn during a workout, and shoved deep inside her while she writhed under Jack's probing hands, then Jack had come all over it. It was the rankest, smelliest, most sexed-up thong imaginable, and Jack was proposing to shove it in her mouth.
Cindy was on the verge of using the safeword. That meant stopping in the middle of the session and talking things out, perhaps stopping altogether.
Then she noticed that although Jack was holding the panties just above her lips, he was leaving them there. He wasn't pressing them against her lips. He was waiting. Waiting for her to make up her mind.
This was really what convinced her. He was willing to wait for her. Looking up into Jack's eyes, feeling her own submission to him deeply, she slowly opened her mouth.
Jack waited until her mouth was open wide, then he carefully shoved the wadded-up thong into her mouth, so that the relatively broad surface of the sex cache entered her mouth first, and the folded end with the bits of strap sticking out went in last. That way they wouldn't press against the back of her throat and gag her.
Cindy couldn't believe how rank and overpowering the smell and taste of spent sex was once the thong was in her mouth. When it first touched her tongue, there was a cool and gooey spot to it, and more such spots made their presence felt when Jack had the whole thing shoved in her and the tape wrapped over her mouth and cheeks.
(Normally, Jack would have sealed the thong in place by wrapping the tape completely around Cindy's head, so that it was physically impossible for her to remove it herself. That's the way they liked it. But this time Jack just ran the tape from jaw to jaw, so that it was merely difficult for her to remove it. And so that he could get it off her very quickly and easily in case she gagged.)
It was a reasonable precaution in this case. Cindy was having some trouble with the overwhelming smell and taste of the stained, soaked undie now lodged in her mouth. She tried to keep her mouth perfectly still, but the most minute movement of her jaws, cheeks or tongue, which occurred constantly as she breathed, served to bring some new portion of her mouth in contact with some new portion of the thong, and with it a fresh, powerful blast of sex smell, overpowering her, filling her nose and mouth from the inside.
For a few minutes she just laid there and breathed shallowly, her eyes open but not seeing, as she sought to master her gag reflex. Over time, she managed, the smell and taste were still there, filling her senses like an olfactory exclamation mark, but not making her gag. The experience she had had being gagged helped a lot -- she was so used to having a ball gag in her mouth at home that sometimes she found herself missing it during the day, or at night. (Once Jack had kept her in a ball gag with head harness for an entire weekend, after conditioning her to it over several weeks by having her wear it at longer and longer intervals, including overnight. During the weekend he had removed it only to feed and water her and for purposes of oral sex. She had enjoyed it, because the enforced silence focused her so completely on what she was doing, and on sex.)
"You OK now?" Jack asked.
Cindy nodded.
"On your feet, then," he said. He rose to his feet but did not assist her to her feet. Part of the fun of tying her up was watching her struggle in her bonds.
"I think I'll put you on the horse for awhile, let things settle down," Jack said.
Cindy nodded. She suddenly felt deeply submissive. The experience of testing her limits like that always did it for her. She felt a sort of rippling pleasure inside herself, so pleased was she to have that thong inside her mouth. She suddenly, instinctively, stroked the thong with her tongue, enormously grateful for its presence and what it had put her through. She enjoyed the gooey sex of it.
She could barely look at Jack as he walked her into the playroom where the padded wooden "horse" stood, a two by eight board smoothed and polished, with two deep indentations in the top, padded with soft, supple leather that was overlapped in ridges. Jack lowered the chains as Cindy knelt at the foot of the horse, her head pressed into the carpet, her legs spread wide.
"You may submit to me before mounting the horse," said Jack. He knew from experience that her deep silence and stillness meant she was deep into subspace, feeling very submissive, and that in such circumstances, his best move was to give her plenty of time and opportunity to express her submission.
Cindy crawled forward, her wrists still bound behind her, and pressed her gagged mouth against Jack's foot, symbolically kissing it. She kissed the other foot, then slowly made her way up his leg, kissing ea
ch leg in turn until she reached his crotch. She slowly and meditatively rubbed her gagged mouth and face against Jack's cock, worshiping it with wholehearted devotion. She looked up at Jack as she did so, and he looked down at her, and she knew that he saw her worshiping his cock, and knew her to be his slave.
Her pussy felt heavy and full as Jack helped her straddle the horse. He chained her ankles apart and ran a chain from her collar to the top of the horse. She was locked in place. He pulled on the chains that held the wooden beam in place and it rose until it was snug against her pussy, at which point he secured the chain in place. She was astraddle the horse. She would not come down until her master brought her down.
Lastly, Jack put clamps on her nipples which were attached to the frame of the horse by strings which went around the frame to the wooden board between her legs. Now as the horse's gentle undulation rubbed the leather overlaps against her pussy lips, they also pulled at her nipples.
Jack sat in a chair and turned on TV, just in case he got bored watching Cindy.
Deep in her feeling of love and submission, Cindy tasted deeply, eagerly of the thong in her mouth, and felt the leather rubbing against her pussy lips, and the tug against her nipples. Eventually, she began to moan. Jack watched, his cock quite hard.
The thing that Jack found most sexy about Cindy was the incredibly soft, yielding quality she developed when she really got into a session, as she was now. He had her face down on the carpet, her arms stretched out to either side of her by the yoke that also enclosed her neck. Her ankles were spread wide apart by the spreader bar that they were cuffed to. And she still had her thong taped into her mouth. Her ass was hiked into the air and Jack was kneeling behind her, fucking the living hell out of her, his big hands firmly locked into the fold between her hips and legs.
Another woman's body might have betrayed some slight resistance to be so restrained and taken. But not Cindy's. Her ass was a symphony of yielding and acceptance. When Jack licked his finger and casually stuck it up her ass while he fucked her, there was only the momentary resistance of her anus and then she was open to him, as always, surrendering the treasures of her body almost gratefully to him.
In fact, Cindy did feel gratitude to Jack for taking her as she did. She wanted to be taken completely during sex, no half-hearted coils of rope she could easily slip out of, none of those silly games like the ones in 9 1/2 Weeks that weren't really erotic at all, just looked good on camera.
She liked being bound, helpless, dominated and fucked hard, and Jack was capable of all of that. When Jack came inside her, she came, too, and it was as if her mind were a computer that had been wiped clean by a giant electromagnetic pulse. She actually passed out -- not unusual, for her sessions with Jack. She had never done so with anyone else, but no one else was so deeply connected with who she was on the inside. No one else seemed to understand her fantasies and her feelings as if he were experiencing them directly.
Later that night they snuggled in bed, Cindy with her hands tied together in front of her as she liked (Cindy had tried sleeping with her hands bound behind her, but it was just too uncomfortable, though she would have preferred it on aesthetic grounds).
Her ankles were also tied together, because she liked that. Her knees remained unbound in case Jack wanted to take her during the night, as he sometimes did.
Jack pulled the tape off her face, saying, "I'm pulling off the tape in case your nose clogs up overnight. But don't spit out the thong unless you have to. Leave it in while you sleep if you can."
"Mmmm-hmmm," Cindy said, though there was something in her posture that posed a question. Why? Why did Jack want her to leave the thong in? It's not that Cindy wasn't used to sleeping while gagged -- she often wore a bit gag to bed. You could breathe around it if your nose got clogged. But why the thong?
"I want you to tell me what your mouth tastes like in the morning," Jack said.
Cindy's eyes bugged out a little at this thought. After all these hours the thong with all its secretions was still -- pungent. What would her mouth taste like in the morning? Cindy was curious to know herself. But she decided she wouldn't just tell Jack about it. She'd let him experience it -- with a great big kiss.
An Excerpt From Book Four of The Prop Master
The elements of the films made by Desert Industry Dreams that would work for the websites that sponsored the production company were housed in an old industrial building in Palo Alto. It had formerly been a warehouse, but with the rise of robotic warehouses way back in the oughties, old style warehouses became a drag on the real estate market, lacking the electronic infrastructure to guide the robots about. It was generally cheaper to build a new warehouse from scratch, which left a lot of buidlings with big empty spaces that were for sale cheap, a godsend for the booming movie industry.
Which is how adult websites were able to afford such facilities for themselves.
"Welcome to Jolly Roper Porn Productions, Mr. Davis," said the receptionist, a well-tanned older blond woman who smiling broadly at him. Ever since the Movienooz article had run and been picked up by social media all over the web, who knew click bait when they saw it, everyone greeted him with a broad smile that was, in the case of many female greeters, an invitation. Jack politely declined them all. He would dance with the one what brung him, and that would be Cindy.
"Good to be here," said Jack.
"Production is through the door to the right, Set 4 is the one you want, just go right in," the receptionist said, handing Jack a name badge.
"Thanks," siad Jack, pinning it on. He was glad to see that visitors were being tagged. Security was probably a lot easier here in the enclosed warehouse and the more intimate sets at Jolly Roper Productions, but since people were sabotaging production at Desert Industry Dreams, it was logical to wonder if the same sort of dirty tricks might be in line for Jolly Roper scenes.
Jack walked through the door and found hiimself in an industrial-looking but clean hallway with numbered doors spaced at wide intervals on his left. It was quite a walk to the door labelled Set 4. Jacked opened the door and found himself in a huge open space. In the center of the open space was a green screen, literally a huge green backdrop with kleig lights on either side of it. The backdrop extended to the floor where it merged with a green screen carpet. Sitting on the carpet was a huge pair of stocks that extended from the floor to twelve feet in the air, with head and hand holes at the appropriate height. And locked into the stocks was Lorelei Del Mar, one of the female stars of Jolly Roper Porn, just her head and hands visible on that side of the stocks.
Jack had entered as quietly and quickly as he could, in case they were filming, but they were still engaged in set-up.
"Mr Davis!" said Lorelei, smiling up at him from the stocks, her thick shock of blond hair seeming to blaze with reflections from the kleig (or as Cindy liked to call them, "kegel") lights.. Jack walked over and shook one of the hands projecting from the wall stocks.
"Ms. Del Mar," said Jack.
"You know my name!" she said.
"I'm a fan," Jack said. "I've seen much of your oeuvre."
"You're too kind!" said Lorelei. "I'm wiggling my oeuvre right now, but you can't see it because of this wall thingie."
"I'll take your word for it," said Jack. "It's a lovely oeuvre, well worth wiggling, I'm sure."
"I kinda can't help it," Lorelei said. "They're warming me up for the scene."
"Oh, really?" Jack asked. He stepped back and looked on the other side of the stocks, which gave him a good view of all of Cindy's sleek body. It was the sort of body you see more in porn than in mainstream productions, wide hips, generous butt and large breasts with a tiny waist. The well-developed back muscles and abs explained how that had happened: genetics, combined with plenty of time in the gym. Jack had always found her amazing, not just because of her figure, but because her skin was smooth and seemed to glow with health. In person, onthe set, the effect was even more striking, the bright kleig lights bringing out the a
lmost supernatural glow of her skin.
The reason she was wiggling was also clear ... a dildo-vibrator set mounted on a pole was in use. The dildo was firmly ensconced in her vagina, and the head of the Hitachi wand vibrator was snubbed right up against Lorelei's clit and vibrating away. The pole was attached to a metal framework that held it in place, so that Lorelei could work her vagina agaisnt it, and that's just what Lorelei was doing ...
Also By Pat Powers
Riverbeast: The Saloon
Book Five of the Riverbeast Series
Click here and be whisked away to Amazon!
Life can change in an instant when you're just one of many human beings floating down the mighty Mississippi River on a few bits of wood, as Constance Harlee discovers when Bart Fink leaves her among the outlaws and cutthroats of the infamous Bluff's Hole outlaw hideout and saloon. Suddenly she is no longer just cargo traveling down the river, but a saloon girl, in a saloon whose customers mostly had prices on their heads. The desires of such men knew no limits, as Constance discovers when she becomes a saloon girl at Bluff's Hole.
Also By Pat Powers
Riverbeast Games
Book Four of the Riverbeast Series
Click here and be whisked away to Amazon!
Constance Harlee, princess of the river town of Euharlee, Missouri, has been reduced to a human pet, lower than a slave, by keelboat captain Bart Fink, who had a grudge against her father. As they travel down the mighty Mississippi, the riverboatmen find all sorts of fun, sexy games to play with their pet. She learns her role in the games, and how to play them well. She intends to seduce the men, to fool them, to trick them into making them treat her better. She poses prettily as she begs for table scraps, she But she will slowly learn, to her chagrin, that sometimes you play the game, and sometimes, the game plays you.
