Lure of the Killer Heels

by Ashley Hind

  I say it but I’m not actually sure I see it like this. It’s more just a way to ensure they allow themselves to be bound. Castor does not need showing. He unhurriedly takes off his coat and has it drop to the floor. I hadn’t even thought to command this, forgetting that its removal allows so much greater access to him. He has a confident sneer on his face as he relents all control and reaches up to grasp the bar hanging off chains from the roof. Still he thinks he is in charge. My heels are colossal tonight and ensure I can easily reach up to shackle his wrists. I kiss him and catch first his tongue and then his lip between my teeth. I let my smile spread, feeling the immediate electric warmth of having him bound and at my mercy. Pollux will be putty in my hands too, now that his ringleader is restrained.

  I stand behind this weaker one, slipping his coat off his shoulders so that it falls at my feet. I reach around and slide my gloved hand down into his pouch. God, I would love to feel the warmth of him on my bare palm. I get the hardness though, there is no masking that. I encircle his girth, assessing the size of him and how I will manage to take it in my virgin bum. His is the marginally thinner one, but Castor is the twin I like best, and it is him I see behind me and on top in my fantasies, doing so expertly what I saw him do to his Mistress as well as to his friend here. I wonder if, in the heat of it, I will even get to choose.

  I bare the stiff cock and run my closed fist slowly up and down it, watching Castor watching me. I can see that codpiece of his filled with the stiffness of his lovely curving erection. The saliva is almost dribbling out of my mouth at the thought of it - my word, what a hussy I have become! I am leading Pollux forward by his prick now, taking him around behind his supposed twin. Castor can move upon his chains to a certain degree but he nonetheless stays still as I instruct Pollux to get down onto his knees.

  ‘You will bite his arse cheeks,’ I say. ‘Do it hard but not hard enough to draw blood.’

  I stay to adjudicate for a while, witnessing Pollux administer a series of sharp nips across both buttocks that cause his lover to gasp and jerk at his shackles. Bigger mouthfuls are taken and this does nothing to abate the saliva pooling in my mouth. In truth I want to be there doing this, but in my state how can I ensure I won’t just keep sinking my teeth in until I come away with a chunk of arse? I leave my charge going about his business and go to find a cat o’ nine tails whip. I have tried this one out on myself and it is more about a tingle than a sting. He needs to be tenderised rather than set on fire. If this is something that his Mistress doesn’t do it will be something to remember me for.

  I drape the whip tails down the naked chest of the bound twin, just to give him a feel. Then I too am down on my knees, showing that where there is pain, pleasure will always come too. I pull down the codpiece and have that lovely cock spring out, right in my face. The head is exposed and shining, asking to be sucked. It gets its way. I go gently, closing my warm, wet mouth over the whole head, gently running my tongue across the underside. I don’t use my hand. There is a way to go yet. I tease rather than gobble - such gentle treatment in contrast to the hard nips at his behind that sometimes have him jerking forward deeper into me.

  My hands go around, pushing the lesser twin’s face away so that he can witness my gloved fingers digging into his lover’s hard, pale buttocks, prising them apart. I empty my mouth, leaving only a thread of saliva connecting me to the cock.

  ‘Lick him,’ I say, and he knows what I mean. I sink back down onto the cock as Pollux does my bidding. I can feel the extra tautness of the head at my tongue, feel the twitches and jerks of pleasure, hear the grunts and sighs. It’s all good! I have the one behind reach around and stroke his friend’s cock, which he does with practiced skill. Then I have Pollux come around front and suck upon his friend’s smooth ball sack whilst I slurp away as before. I have them stand side by side and suck them in turn. I whip Castor lightly, all over, just letting him taste the potential torture I could bestow, whilst his cock is tasted by his friend - just tongue-tip flicks, no lips or mouth allowed just yet.

  The world is my oyster but sadly the oyster is not particularly yielding pearls. I don’t really know what to do. I could let my imagination run riot but my head is clouded with urgent desire, put there by my impatient, no-good pussy. The thing is, such bondage games are about all those involved. Either I give them what they want or I force them to want what I give them. Both ways are supposed to be about mutual pleasure. Roles may be played, boundaries pushed, apparent helplessness imposed, but everyone is meant to love it, so you have to play to certain rules.

  These rules can be intrusive. I love the clothes and the attitude, and where else but a BDSM club could one go and find two studs that you could take home and fuck with little more than a few words? These places are dream-granters. The whole scene is a fantasy fulfiller. But do it wrong and the whole scenario you immerse yourself in can be shattered. I could do anything to these guys but the truth is I just want them to fuck me with abandon, and for that I must submit to them. I could order it but they are not totally submissive by nature, so they wouldn’t obey. They would just use their power over me to do as they wished. I would not come out of it as their goddess, merely another plaything. They would not revere me like they do their Mistress. What has she got over them? To keep them in check I have to keep them bound up, and that stops me from having the unhindered closeness that I want. Strange, they made rules at the altar which they have no qualms about utterly disregarding, yet the rules that apply to their sex games are hard and fast. It frustrates the shit out of me that they cannot simply be what I want them to be, on my command.

  I have been whipping Castor harder as my ire built and I check myself. I could probably lose it and go on until he was red raw, just from the fucking way he looks at me sometimes. I take Pollux off his knees and strap him to the crucifix, his cock straight out in front of him, ready and waiting, just a few feet from his friend’s own straining stiffy opposite. I could stand between them, reach out either side of me and clasp each of them, tossing them off furiously to wrenching climaxes. Neither would care that I got so little from it. They have no pretensions to serve me. How can I change that? They think it should be me paying them for this privilege. These bastards, both of them, tied up but knowing I need to make a slut of myself to them.

  And I cannot resist. I do what Pollux failed to achieve and rip the netting of my stockings so that my backside is completely bare. In my dreams I have these two at both ends and that is what will happen. The red cloud is starting to fill my head and wrest control. That naughty pussy of mine just will not let me think! I back into Castor, reaching behind to find his cock and guide it to my wet hole. My puss practically sucks him in with her greed! I should tease him with the slowest of slides but I want to feel taken, so I slam back onto him and have him all in a second. The thrill all but has me coming. I know I sound like a desperate trollop but I cannot care.

  My eyes close to blot out the sneer on the face of the weaker twin opposite me. I ease myself along the curve of that lovely prick inside me and then slap my arse back onto it, filling myself with his meat. I do it again and again, hands on my thighs, mouth open and wailing. Stars shoot through the red cloud. My whole body trembles, the dam ready to burst. I am faintly aware, sensing rather than seeing, of him outside in the black night, gripping his pulsing fat cock as he watches another shamelessly dirty display of mine. The thought has the excitement speeding quicker upon me. I could finish now but I just about hold on, fighting back the tide of my orgasm until I can bend further forward and get that other cock into my mouth. All the bliss of my fantasies comes over me at once. I can barely even begin to suck before I am thrusting backwards and being taken over by my climax. Mixed in with the triumph is some degree of shame at being so easily taken to my finish. I can picture them smiling at each other at what an easy to please bitch I am, one who is going to have to pay them through the nose to ever feel this incomparable pleasure
again.

  I am on hands and knees between them, slipped off their solid cocks like a bit of meat from a skewer. I do not look at them. A strong Mistress would know what to do next but my head is still scrambled and my pussy is already demanding more. I have to regain my control. It would be best not done on hands and knees but my jelly legs do not allow me to stand, so I crawl around behind the crucifix. My face hidden, I start to crank the handle that plays out the chain securing the shackles at the weaker twin’s wrists. Down he goes, made slow by me as I get my breath back and try to unscramble my brain. When I feel strong enough I appear at the side, to watch as I turn the handle and drop Pollux towards his lover’s waiting cock.

  He opens up to take it and I command him to suck. I don’t think I have ever seen a mouth and tongue so avid. It almost puts me to shame. The red cloud only thickens at the sight. The sheer guzzling dirtiness of these two men together makes it so. I have lost one battle and might yet lose another, but before I do I will fight for some semblance of dominance. I can usurp their Mistress yet. I have feint ideas. I am already making my way over to my racks of whips and my chest of toys. They will provide the inspiration. While he sucks I will whip him. Maybe I will pour burning candle wax on his back, maybe use one of the electric plugs up his lover’s arse whilst he is being sucked. I am going to lubricate myself and make them watch me go onto all fours and finger my own backside, making it ready for them. I don’t care how I look. I no longer care what they want. I never should have, the fuckers. I must simply impose myself and show them I know how to give pleasure like no other. But do I?

  Castor’s gasps behind me become a series of grunts and Pollux joins in with moans of delight. The adrenaline fires through me because the sounds are unmistakable. I turn, aghast to watch the final throes of Castor’s climax, the face of his lover ever more delighted at each next hot spurt of seed. I stand aghast and powerless as the sucks take every last drop from Castor’s trembling body, keeping on until the once proud and curving cock drops limp and useless from the lover’s contented mouth. Then the rage hits me like a train.

  ‘You fuck!’ I almost scream. ‘You fucking fuck! I didn’t tell you to make him come!’

  ‘You didn’t tell me I couldn’t,’ says Pollux, casually snide. I can see him smiling up at his happy partner in crime.

  ‘I didn’t tell you that you could come!’ I now shriek at Castor. My pussy is ready to wage war on these selfish pricks.

  ‘If you want to pay,’ he replies languidly, through half-closed, unapologetic eyes, ‘maybe you can make some rules. But I only have one Mistress I obey.’

  I am practically on fire inside now, my legs shaking.

  ‘I told you that I was your Mistress now. And I didn’t tell you that you could come!’

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ says a sneering Castor, ‘that he is better than you.’

  And that’s it. I chuck down the benign whip I’m holding because there is something more potent ready and waiting behind the door of my wardrobe. I go to it, my vision blurring with my anger. Fortunately it is just about good enough to see - and not just what I am going to do, but the reaction on the face of Castor as he witnesses me about to do it. The grin melts instantly, the mouth dropping open to try to emit a squeal as the eyes widen to saucer size. He perhaps hopes to entreat me to stop but it way too fucking late for that. I pull the trigger and in the blink of an eye the bolt is lodged deep in his body, right in the heart. I’m a good shot, I’ll give myself that. Few are better at my club. The bows and arrows are fine for there but the crossbow I keep at home is far better for this kind of work.

  Pollux is already gibbering, trying hard from his horizontal angle to peer up and see what is going on. He doesn’t see me reload. I go to him and do the decent thing, winding him back upright so that he can have a good look. His face goes even paler than before, if that is possible. His prick, so recently rigid with the delights of having his ex-lover’s come spurting, is now on the wane, which I simply cannot have. Down I go onto my knees, one hand clasping his drooping little fellah to force it back to life, the other still clutching my crossbow. I suck upon him and feel the instant swell, despite the horror inside of him. Sexual organs are just so treacherous!

  When he is hard again I tell him to shut the fuck up. I back against him, feeding him into me, filling myself once more. He is kind-of squeaking with the fear and enforced pleasure. I could silence him but I rather enjoy it, hearing the feeble pleas of one so recently cocksure.

  ‘When you come, it is over,’ I tell him.

  He hasn’t a chance, no matter what dread grips him. His cock is wired to its own pleasure system and even without help from the brain the feeling of my hot, slippery cunt sliding back and forth upon him is going to draw the pleasure out. My finish will take much longer this time and I can bask in the wonderful feel of him inside me, mixed with the triumph of showing him that I can milk him as I please, on and on, keeping myself in check to build my climax and make it huge, drawing out his own agony mixed with the need of his selfish, treacherous balls to unload.

  I finally take my pleasure, shivering and jerking against him and not shy about the force of it or the dirty tirade I let loose to accompany it. I am grinning as I let the bliss go on, diminishing by fractions with me still thrusting back against him whilst his lover hangs lifeless a few feet to our front. He is wailing loudly at the mix of his building pleasure and helplessness. I am able to speed up, taking over again, thrusting back like a twerking world champion, grinding and pumping my lovely, soft, bare arse into him so that he has no chance. His wail becomes even more high-pitched as he has to let go and give into fate. I feel the wonderfully dirty heat of his spurt within me and I thrust right back to have him as deep as possible. When his last gasp comes and his eyes open pleadingly I simply smile back at him, support the weight of the crossbow over my crooked elbow, and fire behind me straight to his heart. My back gets spattered with his warm blood.

  ‘Oh, you horrible fuck-weasel!’ I spit as I slide off him, but I’m not entirely convinced he’s listening. At such close range it’s made a bit of a mess which I am going to need Bertrand’s help in clearing up. Still, it shall have to wait until morning because I’m still hot and in no mood to be disturbed!

  My henchman isn’t entirely ecstatic at being summoned at this early hour but you can’t leave evidence like this hanging around indefinitely. He surveys the scene with his usual mildly pissed-off frown, but that’s all the emotion it brings from him. However, I spot the flash across his eyes, the indication of a brain going into whir mode at the sighting of an opportunity. I will need to be wary of this slimy bastard. Nonchalance is the key. No hint must be given that I am beholden to him in any way.

  ‘That trench outside needs digging big enough for two,’ I say, hands on hips. I can already tell he is not going to let this pass so easily.

  ‘My cock is already big enough for one right now. It needs your attention.’

  His bluntness surprises me but I don’t think I flinched. I need to think quickly and play this right.

  ‘It will earn it,’ I tell him. ‘Dig the trench and I will think about rewards.’

  ‘Thinking about it is not good enough.’

  He looks like he won’t be moved. His open leering at my body is creepy, but I always had him down as a shiver-inducer.

  ‘Then you will get what you want as soon as you are done.’

  ‘What I want is to fuck you in your tight, fat arse.’

  That actually sends a raised-hair sweep all over my body, head to toe. It makes me tremble, as does his expression, his unabashed frown. He thinks I will concede but I will not. I must not.

  ‘The hole needs digging first,’ I say, fixing him with my most assured stare.

  ‘The hole can wait.’

  ‘Then you will be waiting on my holes indefinitely.’

  ‘
I have secrets to tell.’

  That’s better. That bolsters my confidence at handling this sticky situation. I give a little smile because I wondered when this was coming. In TV dramas you are given unfortunate semi-likeable characters who do something silly and get seen, then get blackmailed by hard, horrible men just like Bertrand. Their situation appears inescapably bleak. “Give me ten grand or I will tell your secret,” the horrible man says in his most threatening way. The semi-likeable character pleads aimlessly and looks forlorn, crumbling and beaten, wondering aloud where he might stump up this impossible amount of cash. That is not the hard man’s problem, as his victim is duly informed.

  Be aware that should this ever happen to you, the mumbling pleas are not the way to go. There is a simple answer and it is this, said uncompromisingly: “It would be cheaper to have you killed.” It certainly would have been on the estate I found myself unfairly living in briefly during my groundless youth. It was a place that instilled much in me. A fifth of that amount would have seen the job done and done well. Now I have learned it is cheaper still to cut out the middle man. I know now how to trump anyone. Let me tell you, death solves so much.

  ‘So tell your secrets then,’ I say, not even flickering. He didn’t expect this. Uncertainty enters his eyes. The power shifts in that instant.

  ‘You realise that mess like this and digging more trenches outside will raise suspicion? Esmerelda has already been asking questions.’

  ‘Then you had better dig the trench big enough for three, and I will see about getting myself a less nosy cleaner.’

  The wicked sneer spreads slowly across his face. His desire has been put on hold, just for now. Esmerelda is always bad-mouthing him, always trying to have his mucky hands and boots barred from her spotless house. The thought of shutting her up has him doing my bidding with no further word. Moving the bodies is heavy work but Bertrand goes about it like a pro, even going to the garage for my absent eldest son’s sled, to make it easier to drag them across the garden. I patiently watch him cover them over with help from the digger and then set about doing a spot more excavation to give room for another, as requested. I even pitch in to help. I must have looked rather weird stood there with my short skirt and high heels and shovel in hand.