A Reluctant Witch in The Land of BDSM: Racked and Ravished Threeway

by Aimelie Aames

  A Reluctant Witch in The Land of BDSM: Racked and Ravished Threeway

  A Reluctant Witch in The Land of BDSM: Racked and Ravished Threeway

  Midpoint

  Anna Ixstassou, A Reluctant Witch in The Land of BDSM:

  Racked and Ravished Threeway

  By Aimélie Aames

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2012 Aimélie Aames

  Cover Artwork Copyright 2012 Aimélie Aames

  aimelieaames.wordpress.com

  aimelieaames@gmail.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This work of fiction contains sexually explicit material and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction. All of the characters involved in the sexual situations in this story are intended to be 18 years of age or older, whether they are explicitly described as such or not.

  About This Book:

  Anna Ixstassou is looking for the fast track to the top. Unfortunately, she found what she was looking for and is back for another session at the hands of her boss, Ewan Crest.

  The ensuing story is hot and sticky as Anna is inducted into the strange world of BDSM. She loves what she finds there...maybe, too much, in fact.

  A witch who just wants to be like everyone else, Anna exalts in the desire and lust that Ewan awakens within her, only hoping that she will not be forced to call upon black magic to save her before the point of no return.

  Anna Ixstassou: Racked and Ravished Threeway

  I stepped into the empty elevator and pushed the button for the top floor. My finger trembled as I did it and my legs shook a little, too.

  This wasn't the first time I've gone up there and it was for that, more than anything else, that I was having trouble staying calm.

  You see...my boss has his office up there. And he's all alone, right now, waiting for me...planning on what he's going to do with me, sitting at his big mahogany desk, thinking of all his twisted scenarios in which I'm the main character.

  I had started out looking for a way to fast track my way to a promotion, only to end up with what feels more and more like a deal with the devil. Except this Faustian man knows how to push my buttons in a way that leaves me helpless and desperate for more.

  He uses things like rope and clamps...there are wires and batteries...buckles and straps. All of it is really beginning to freak me out, except that I keep going back up there.

  He's told me I can say no at any point. One word will bring it all to an end in an instant. And so will end all my hopes of making it somewhere in my career without resorting to asking for help from my mother. And that is something I would just never do. At least, not yet...

  She wouldn't hesitate to help me, I know. Except that I've always refused to fall in with the family heritage. I can't say why, except that it always felt so much like cheating when I have before and all I’ve ever truly wanted is to be like everyone else.

  But, if this goes too far...well, who knows...? Witchcraft is a particularly effective way of dealing with the devil.

  Ewan Crest was standing at his desk as I walked into his office. There was a snick as the lock mechanism of the office door snapped close behind me. I shivered as I heard it, the sensation of my nipples jumping out against the taut fabric of my blouse nearly drawing a moan out of me. The simple fact of walking into what had become a veritable den of torture and delight made my breathing deeper, huskier.

  He was in his usual short sleeved polo shirt and jeans, all so casual and relaxed except that his loafers looked to be of italian make...certainly made to order, in fact.

  President and CEO, he was the man at the top of the pile and with a simple nod, he could make or break the career of any one of us down below, left to the oblivion of plodding through our paperwork and crunching numbers until time without end. Instead, I was here at the shining summit, with Ewan Crest before me like a figure stepping straight out of mythology upon a mountain top.

  The muscles of his body showed easily through his polo, molded tightly against heavy pectorals that lifted up into square and massive shoulders. His legs were just as muscled, built like a pair of jackhammers, and I knew from experience that his back simply rippled when he moved...especially when thrusting himself rhythmically, his member deeply encased within me.

  I wanted to say something, but it wasn't permitted. The master preferred that I not speak unless spoken to, which in some ways was liberating. I don't mean to sound like a mindless puppet before a man of just few years more than me. For now, it was more a matter of respect...or of honor.

  I hoped he would honor me again this day. My pussy still ached from yesterday's session, but I had to admit that he had awakened something in me that was fast becoming insatiable. "Ah, my little Basque from the mountains...dear Anna," he said, finally, his eyes crawling over my body. "I've been meaning to ask, what side does your family come from? French or Spanish?"

  I replied in nearly a whisper, "French...master."

  "Oh," he replied. "I would have guessed Spanish, as dark as your eyes are. But that's alright...I'm sure there is plenty of spice in your bloodlines and that you will be more than apt for what today's festivities have in store for you."

  "Now turn around and undress."

  My family had come to America a hundred years ago and the fact that I worked in an office building in one of the most concentrated financial districts in the world seemed to be of no importance to Ewan. His fascination with my origins was always part of his conversations with me. For that matter, it could be the very reason I had been allowed to see him at all, that first time.

  Even if his tone was dismissive, I knew that his gaze wouldn't leave me, avid as he was for my tight, lithe body. I've dutifully spent long hours in the gym, keeping myself fit and firm in all the places that count the most. My ass is high and full, my breasts copious and round. I'm not yet twenty five but can pass for eighteen or so, and without the least sign of a wrinkle. I take time to work in Kegel routines to keep myself as tight as a teenager, which isn't easy but worth it when you end up being able to grip a man with your cunt.

  I heard him pad up to me quietly and then felt his breath upon the back of my neck. I unbuttoned my blouse and unsnapped my bra to let it fall to the floor. My skirt was next, but I hesitated to unsnap the garter belt I'd put on that morning on a whim.

  His breathing had taken on a somewhat faster rhythm and as I reached down to the clips of the garter belt, his strong hands stopped me.

  "No...that...is a nice touch. Well done, in fact."

  I smiled, thinking that I'd won a small victory. Then, without warning, he released my hand and with the strength of his arm, he struck my ass openhanded with a loud crack.

  I nearly screamed, more with the shock and surprise of it. Although at this point, anything Ewan Crest did should no longer come as a surprise. My cheeks stung and the pain rose even as I could feel the juices within my folds begin to ooze in earnest.r />
  It's not easy to explain, this link between pleasure and pain. I hadn't known of it just a few days ago, but now I had grown to expect to feel the two in the same moment, at the hands of my master.

  I made no move to remove my heels and Ewan gave no reason for why he struck me. I didn't expect that he would. He does things on instinct, I believe. The spontaneity as much a turn on for him as his wild plans for me.

  "Ok...now come with me. I want to show you something."

  He pulled me by the arm, his thumb digging deeply into my forearm. I went with him, as willing as a rag doll.

  We went into the separate part of his office, the part that made it more living quarters, or a suite, even. Adjoining the next room was a bathroom with a shower and a toilet, all done in heavily veined marble.

  But in the middle of the piece, there was something that caught my eye and would not let go. Two small trapezes suspended in a frame of chromed tubing. There were a pair of stirrups with buckles and something else that looked suspiciously like a collar.

  He felt me draw up short as I looked the thing over. I think I probably shivered, although I can't say for certain anymore, so much of what followed has become a blur in my mind's eye.

  "I had this made in Bangladesh. Special ordered, according to my specs," he said, the pride evident in his voice.

  I remained where I was, frozen, and hoping that whatever was about to happen wouldn't go on for too long.

  He touched my back, letting his fingers trail down my bare skin. Despite my fear of a moment before, I could have purred under his touch. He traced a line down to my ass, making little circlets in the dimples on either side, at the base of my spine. I so wanted to curl back against him, to feel his marvelous cock press against me in return before it plunges deep into my slot.

  He cupped one cheek in his hand, hefting it, before continuing down and to the inside, where I had become all warmth and wet. He slipped his first two fingers in my hole, with the frank motion of an experienced man, plunging in deeply. The pleasure of his touch rippled through me and I only wanted it to go on and on.

  He breath rasping, he said, "Bend over."

  It was as if I'd won the Golden Ticket and I didn't hesitate to double over. He plunged his fingers in again and again, each time wiping my juices up and over my asshole. And then he was there, pushing with his thumb against my bunghole. It was sopping wet by now and his thumb slipped in easily.

  The feeling of it was nearly overwhelming and two or three words slipped out of my mouth. Strange words, in a language I didn't know, but they felt somehow familiar and Ewan didn't seem to notice, engrossed as he was in his exploration.

  Soon enough, the thumb was exchanged for his fingers, slipping into me back there, so strange in feeling, yet delicious and warm.

  "That's good, Anna. You're nice and tight there, too."

  He stepped back and said, "Now hop on up there. It's time for your acrobatics lesson."

  I stepped away from him reluctantly and climbed uncertainly onto the thing. I draped my legs over one of the trapezes, hooking it underneath my knees. The other, I leaned back against, trying to balance it across my shoulders to support my back.

  I looked up uncertainly at Ewan who was watching with a half smile on his face.

  "Yes, well, maybe the designer wasn't trained as an ergonomics engineer." Still smiling he waded in, proceeding to move me here and there, as lightly as if I were a doll. My feet finished buckled into stirrups suspended by cables to the frame, with the rest of my body trapped between the trapezes, everything held in place with a series of velcro strapping. And there was the collar. He had lowered his face to mine, until we were nose to nose and said, "Everything is going to be just fine. Relax and enjoy the ride." Then, he slipped it around my neck, buckling it into place with just enough room so I could breathe.

  There I was, spread wide in all directions, caught in cables and metal tubing and I couldn't shake the feeling of being a fly in a spider's web.

  That was when there was a light knock at the front door to his office in the other room.

  He smiled wide, his lovely even teeth shining like stars as he said, "Visitors, my little acrobat. Now you just stay put while I go see what this is all about." His attitude had become almost theatrical as he strode from the room.

  I tested my bindings only to discover that there was no question of being able to move. I was caught well and good, with only the mercy of Ewan Crest as my salvation.

  I swallowed at the prospect, even as fear kept rising in my throat.

  There were low voices. Quiet voices, murmuring back and forth before I heard rustling sounds. Like that of someone gently opening and closing luggage. The sounds of zippers and snaps.

  Then, Ewan walked back into the room, his face grave.

  "Little acrobat. There are some other performers who would like to join the show."

  And then he stepped to the side and with a sweeping bow, he said, "I give you, the Strong Man."

  A hulking mass of man walked into the room. He was at least two heads taller than Ewan, but he was so thick and broad that he gave the impression of being wider than he was tall. He was dressed in heavy leather pants with the crotch cut out, buckled with what looked like a giant padlock across his abdomen. His chest was obscured in more leather that went up his neck to encase his face entirely, with only slits for his eyes. Where his mouth and nose should have been was a tiny cage of small iron bars, as though he had had his voice condemned to prison, or perhaps and more likely, to protect others from a certain propensity to biting. The leather mask continued up over his head to finish bundled together and tied tight like a garbage bag with yet another leather strap and buckle.

  He was the stuff of nightmares and as he looked at me, the loose flesh hiding in the nest of his pubic hair began to lengthen and rise as he stared at me from within his leather confinement.

  "Ewan," he said with the rumbling voice of stampeding bulls, "she is very, very fine indeed. And so small… »

  He took two steps toward me and I could have sworn I felt the floor reverberate under his footfalls.

  "Please," I whimpered, "He's enormous, Ewan. I can't handle that...I just can't."

  I didn't want to cry, but as the Strong Man stood there, I felt myself shrinking down to nothing and there was the sting of salt in the corners of my eyes.

  Ewan came to me, his eyes serious, his beautiful mouth downturned. "Don't say 'no' now, Anna. Not after all that we've been through already. You're so close to getting what you want."

  I looked up at him, my eyes imploring him.

  He said, "Don't throw away all that I've taught you these past few days, my little Basque..."

  I swallowed, trying to smile, and said, "I'll...I'll try."

  "That's a good girl!" he said, his smile back upon his face.

  With his theater voice, he called out, "And now, I give you our next esteemed guest--the Silver Fox!"

  In waltzed a slinky female form, her body encased in glittering spangles of argent. It was a body suit that left free the woman's ass and crotch, and her breasts jutted out, supported upon two little half balconnets at her chest.

  In her silver gloved hands was a rider's crop that she tapped against her thigh as she walked toward me.

  "What do we have here, boys?" she said. "This appears to be someone in severe need of discipline. Someone who needs to learn her lesson."

  I started to go with it then, halfway amused with the circus atmosphere as the dominatrix looked me up and down. I think she saw it then, that the fear I'd shown for the Strong Man was starting to ebb. She crouched down beside me, to where I couldn't see her and then I heard it. The whistling of the quirt as it cut the air before it struck me across the backs of my knees.

  The pain was immense and it felt as though the thing had stuck to me before bouncing back off my flesh with wide strips of skin peeled away. It was worse than the sting of an openhanded smack upon the buttocks.

  "Don't worry, de
ar. You might have a few bruises when I'm through with you, but your pretty skin will be unbroken," she said.

  She paraded the crop between my thighs in little ricochet motions before coming to stop at the apex of my pussy. The round head of the crop rested at the base of my clit and she rocked it back and forth there while the Strong Man drew closer, his elephant sized cock standing up at full attention.

  The sensation of the riding crop, as it balanced back and forth on top of my pussy, sent waves of heat that ran down my legs to mingle with the sting at the backs of my knees. There was a sound, a light pattering, that I could not place until I realized it was the sound of my juices dripping freely from my cunt and falling to the carpet beneath me. I had become more and more swollen between my thighs and the heat seemed to flow out from me in waves.

  Ewan spoke up, his voice as dramatic as ever, "And last, but not least, let us send in the clown!"

  He stepped around from behind the other two, his delicious body now revealed in all its splendor. His bronze skin slick with oil, his muscles undulated while his cock lifted in full erection. He had encircled it with a little red wig of pubic hair, a flaming, ridiculous red color that was as outlandish as anything else in the room. And, with no way of explaining myself, I moaned at the sight of him.

  "Let the spectacle begin," he said as he walked toward me. He bent at the waist and did something to the metal contraption holding me. There was the sound of something unlocking and, suddenly, I was pivoting onto my side like a rotisserie chicken.

  I knew that I was as good as cooked, but the fear was quickly waning as I could no longer see the Strong Man with only the Silver Fox and the Clown before me.