Ewan said to the Strong Man behind me, "There's KY jelly on the shelf there. Use it and don't be stingy with it."
A low grunt and then a rustling sound before I felt huge hands parting my butt cheeks to slather me with cold, viscous lubricant. His hand were like slabs of bacon and he could cup an entire cheek in one palm. Maybe I should have been more frightened than I was, but I began to let fall my guard. I went calm as the illusion of having a choice disappeared. As the realization that I would be used, despite any protestation and that with this came a sort of freedom of responsibility. I was free to let happen anything and everything, and the thought of it only heightened my excitement.
The Silver Fox had gone from the room only to return, no longer with the rider's crop, but with a large silver bullet dildo in her hands. She stepped in close to my body and without warning, I felt the cold touch of the chromed head between my cunt lips. She rubbed it back and forth in long, slow motions that seemed to be in the same rhythm as the enormous hands and fingers of the Strong Man lubing my ass. He had begun to press at my asshole, testing me with one of his fingers and I did my best to relax.
Just as the pressure of his touch increased enough to slip inside me, the Silver Fox turned on the dildo's switch and the thrumming vibrations sent shivers of delight deep into my abdomen.
I think Ewan saw the pleasure traverse my face because his lovely smile only deepened and his cock with its little red wig twitched in response.
There were waves and waves of delight and I could no longer tell from where it all came from. The Strong Man was at my asshole and one finger had been replaced by two as he carefully worked at widening my opening. The Silver Fox then pulled the dildo back from my cleft only to fix it to the front of her silver body suit with a series of snap on straps that held it in place just like a real penis. Apparently the buzzing vibrations made contact with her own pussy at its base, as the intake of her breath seemed to indicate. Her red lips had grown fuller and the tips of her nipples had hardened down to tiny points. If someone had told me that she could cut glass with them at the time, it would not have surprised me.
Ewan came to me, his cock pointed to my mouth, and said, "Now let's all teach the little acrobat some new moves."
The head of his cock came close and I tried for it with my lips, anxious to suck it in and have his taste upon my tongue once more. I remember his flavor, like that of salted caramel, musky in the good way of young men, and I wanted to taste it once more desperately. He held it just out of my reach as I tried to catch him. Finally, I snaked out my tongue, straining to reach him, until I was able to just hold his head upon the tip.
I think the image must have pleased him because he held himself still, his smile never leaving his face as I tongued him with small, teasing licks.
The Silver Fox moved in tight, hip to hip with me, and using her hands to get the position just right, I felt the dildo and its delicious buzzing find my opening. It was cold at first, but I didn't care, the feeling of it buzzing against me was beyond comparison.
The Strong Man was breathing in heavily from behind me when I felt his fingers slip back out of my chute. Then, I felt something else come to press itself against my asshole, slowly pushing, not too forcefully but relentlessly all the same. I could feel my opening respond and I did my best to relax my legs, to relax all my muscles despite the vibrator and the effects it had on the rest of my anatomy not so far away.
The pressure at my asshole grew and grew and then with a feeling of a dam breaking, I felt myself being forced wide, wide open as the Strong Man let out a rhinoceros sound, a groan that must have trembled the plate glass windows of Ewan’s office.
It was one of the most extreme sensations I had ever felt. I was open to the maximum degree and felt as full as I'd ever felt, which was when the Silver Fox chose to sink the vibrating dildo deep into my pussy. It plunged into me and waves of pleasure jolted through me. I could feel it running it deeply inside me and there was also the ever present perception of an enormous cock filling my ass full just beside. The two objects had me nailed through two orifices and the pleasure of it, the idea of it, was nearly overwhelming.
Ewan watched the two others, his penis bulging in excitement. I lapped at him like a woman dying of thirst until, finally, he moved closer and let me take his cock into my mouth. The collar had me immobilized so I couldn't manage deep stroking action with my lips, but I made do with my tongue and rolled it around him, fluttering like a hummingbird's wing.
He began moving his hips back and forth and I could see his abdominals flexing in cut relief. To say that it turned me on even more is not saying enough. His body was a thing of absolute, sculpted beauty and I was there to worship at his feet...or, more precisely, at his cock.
The Silver Fox took up her own rhythm and began to fuck me in earnest, the dildo slipping into me and back out of me, only to stab into me once more, her motions growing in force. She was humming, it seemed to me, a sort of children's melody, that had become more and more staccato as her breathing shortened into panting inhalations.
The Strong Man slammed into me from behind and the pain that I had been dreading never materialized as his giant prick slipped easily into my well lubed chute. He was no fool and kept his thrusts in time with those of the Silver Fox so that the two of them pushed against one another while inside of me. He groaned his great mountainous groans, and it was the sound of boulders crashing down as his cock passed deeply inside me only to feel the vibrations of the dildo traverse the thin wall of tissue separating him from the instrument strapped to the Silver Fox.
Ewan next plunged his red bearded penis deep into my mouth, working it back and forth in the same manner as if he had been embedded in my pussy. At the backstroke, I would cradle him upon my tongue, wagging it against him in tight circles. And then, he would slip back into me, rolling deep into my mouth to tap against the back of my throat. He had already done away with my gag reflex in our earlier session, so it was only pleasure for me and him both.
I was being pounded into from everywhere and at once. I was being used in every sense and I loved all of it. The delicious thrusts filled me from all directions and I could feel my belly tightening in reaction. There was the familiar sensation of needing to pee just before the pleasure mounted and came to the point of no return and suddenly, I was blowing out heavy breaths around Ewan's cock, my voice moaning out around him as my orgasm clenched through me.
I was spasming around the Strong Man's cock. I was jittering with the dildo sending me down its electric glide. I was close to screaming while Ewan face fucked me with my jaw dangerously close to biting down.
Ewan pulled out of me and I could see the low muscles at the interior of his thighs twitching. His sac drew itself up tight as he held himself with his hand, taking aim.
My climax continued to ripple through me, the waves of gratification thrilling through me in deep undulations. I heard a voice that I did not recognize as my own saying words that I did not understand and in the next moment I felt the Strong Man seize me by the hips, pounding in hard against me before the feeling of deep, hot liquid cum burst inside my ass.
The Silver Fox arched her back, her humming melody escalating into a ululating warrior woman's cry, as her hips bucked in the throes of her orgasm.
Ewan had taken aim and then with all the muscular force in him, he was expelling great ropey strands of semen that splattered across my lips, my cheeks and my nose.
My own orgasm dipped and crested, a bottle rising and descending on violent seas, and I was awash in pleasure. I snaked out my tongue, lapping at Ewan's cream, feeling only desire and lust and the will to do things that should have been forbidden.
In time, four bodies were heaving in unison, our breaths synchronized and our moans of pleasure coming upon the same note. There was black magic in the air and despite myself, I was glad of it. We had been linked and those orgasms that should have been separate, smaller things, had become a thing of fourfold pleasure. The
y felt me coming as I enveloped each of them, and I felt them, in turn, the whole threatening to escalate into proportions beyond those of human capacity. We had become monstrous in our delight. I had become a quivering beast driven to sexual extravagance.
I was in the freight elevator, riding it down into the entrails of the office building as Ewan had instructed me. I knew the way...it wasn't my first time.
I walked up and out of the underground parking garage, the collar of Ewan's trench coat turned up. I had taken a shower before leaving his office and my hair was still wet, all of my makeup washed away.
I limped to the curb and hailed a taxi. My insides ached and my legs were trembling and weak.
I watched the city streets pass by in a blur until the taxi brought me to my building in its quiet neighborhood. I fumbled out a few bills I found in the trench coat pockets without counting, barely remarking the driver's exclaimed thanks.
There was no one in the foyer of the brownstone building and I was able to make my way up to my loft without making excuses for my appearance.
I let myself in and slipped out of the trench coat. In my small, home office space, I rooted around until I found what I was looking for.
The answering machine was flashing its little red light. My mother had surely picked up on what had just bordered upon savagery. She would expect some explanations.
Still shaking, I spit out the three sandy brown hairs that were tucked back in under my tongue and put them into the little plastic bag I'd found.
Before this goes any further, before I lose my way entirely in the rapture of Ewan Crest's attention, I need to regain control. I need to apply myself before it is too late.
Mother would be willing to help, of course.
I pulled the curtain aside from the window and peered outside. The tree top rustled. There were a few remaining fall leaves, just enough to hide my mother's minion.
He would carry my little plastic bag of pubic hairs, what I thought of as my insurance plan, to her. And then, we shall see who calls who "master" next time....
The End
###
Anna's story continues in the following collection of paranormal BDSM:
Anna, All Tied Up (A Paranormal BDSM Story)
Anna Ixtassou is a witch who wants to be just like everyone else. Except that she went looking for the fast track to the top and has fallen under the spell of her boss, the magnificent Ewan Crest.
What follows is a series of trials and tribulations in the strange world of BDSM that force Anna to turn to witchcraft as her only means of escape.
A collection of intense sexual situations involving bizarre hardware and extravagant characters makes for a bundle of hot reading that you will not soon forget.
An excerpt from Anna, All Tied Up (A Paranormal BDSM Story):
He pulls the cord that runs from my wrists up through a pulley above my head. My arms rise higher and I feel the low ache in my shoulders flame up in protest. I'm on the tips of my toes now, my calves are starting to burn and I can't help it if every time he makes an adjustment I only get wetter.
I should've known better, being who I am. Or, maybe, that's the reason why I didn't see this coming. Too close, too blind to remark what should have been obvious from the start.
The pulley creaks with my weight and a quiet whimper escapes through my lips. I bite down any other sound that might try to get by my guard. The master is exigent and will only make me pay if I don't follow his rules to the letter.
He doesn't notice, though, as he ties off the thin rope at a little T post thing. It reminds me of something I once saw on a sailboat, only smaller, and that seems just about right for this guy. A sailboat type...no, a yacht type of guy. He has it written all over him, with his broad chest and heavy arms. I've never seen anyone with shoulders so square. It's as if he was press formed in a mold destined to turn out lovely men. Which is what he is. Lovely, gorgeous, take your pick of whatever man candy euphemism strikes your fancy. He's all that and then some.
He bends down now and slides his hand down across my bare belly. It's flat and tight. I bust my ass at the gym and skip the pasta. The price to pay for abs that make men want to touch me, to lick me up and down like a lollipop.
He keeps going down with his hand and slips it in between my thighs, pausing just for a moment at my aching, wet epicenter. He knows I'm turned on, but refuses me and my needs, sliding his hand down my legs instead. At my ankles are a pair of leather straps that he buckles around each, cinching them in tight before finally descending to the tiny platform where I'm standing. I didn't notice before but it's actually two platforms that he unlatches and pushes apart. They follow the track of the half circle rail mounted to the wall behind me. The effect is that suddenly my legs are spread wide open and there's nothing I can do about it.
Do I care that much? It's hard to say. On one hand, what I went through yesterday with him at the controls was awful. He made me feel like absolute shit. On the other hand, I came back today, didn't I? Yeah, I did.
I think it's because he's just that beautiful. And, I use that word, beautiful, for a reason, because it isn't often that it applies well to men. Men are handsome, or rugged, or built. But this guy...he has it all. He owns the company I work for, he's built like the wet dream of a Greek goddess, and, right now, at this very moment, I'm what he's thinking about. I'm at the center of his every intention and filling his lovely green eyes with lust. And all of that's just fine except for one thing.
He's the devil.
There he is before me, perfect in so many ways...but the devil, just the same. You don't think you're ever going to meet the devil, right? That it takes a dark circle of naked worshippers off on some hill in the woods. It has to be at night, the moon up high and full, and the wind whispering of foul portents. There should be some blood letting first, then everyone whips themselves into a frenzied orgy that is meant to call up the dark one.
Only the devil takes so many forms. I know this. I am my mother's daughter, after all. But the only thing I had to do was to ask for a meeting with the boss. Mistake? You tell me once I get done with this story....
***
We took the elevator down and I had trouble not fidgeting or tugging at the mask I was wearing. Ewan was dressed in a full split tail tuxedo, with elaborate cummerbund and a golden pocket watch that he said dated to the twenties. It didn't matter to me as he was as resplendent as ever, his gorgeous hands housed within impeccably white gloves. He even wore a silk top hat which set his attire off perfectly.
He leaned upon a black cane, a roaring lion's head in ivory as its pommel, and looked me up and down.
After my bath, I had found my clothing, or what little there was of it, laid out upon the suite's bed. I was dressed in a body suit of black mesh that hid next to nothing of my skin beneath. A silver mask hid my face from scrutiny and I carried a sort of short whip that Ewan had called a scourge. It was comprised of many strands of soft velvet cording, like an overlong tassel, finishing in a black, leather bound handle that felt good within my hand.
I doubted that it could ever inflict real damage as soft as the strands were, but the heft and weight of it gave me the illusion that I could yet control what was about to happen.
In very short order, that illusion was wiped away.
The elevator came to a stomach fluttering halt and its doors slid open upon a great hall filled with animals and other queer creatures milling about. The rustling of elaborate costumes and voices muffled behind all manner of masks came to a perfect silence in the instant after we stepped into the room.
There might have been one hundred of them, two hundred, even. I could not say, but they each and every one stopped in mid sentence and turned to face us.
My thoughts were a ruddy mix of pride and fear under their regard. Pride to be found at the side of Ewan Crest, my master, and for whom all before us then inclined their heads in an unmistakable gesture of respect. Fear because I knew that Ewan was an extravagant man a
nd that if this masquerade was meant for his amusement and those assembled here, then I would soon find myself the center around which this hub of decadent beasts would turn.
We stepped down among them and they parted like the sea before us. The murmur of their voices surged up in excitement and the line opening before our steps led to what appeared to be some sort of bizarre table.
Our steps were slow, measured, and as we move closer to the wooden contraption in the center of the room, a wolf faced man leaned in and said, "Oh, Ewan...the boxing is going to be wonderful this year."
Ewan gave no answer other than a slight nod then seized my arm as we drew near to what I had thought was a table.
It was not flat as any table should be, but a series of opened wooden compartments. The wood was old, its veneer polished and shining. The surface had been inlaid with marquetry of the finest sort. French craftsmen had placed capering animals etched in precious woods, their colors contrasting with the rest of the piece. There were astronomical symbols, of a quality meriting a place among the most precious works of black magic.
I looked at it and with a feeling of lead settling into my stomach, I could see that it was lined in red velour and in that interior, the velour would hold the form of a four limbed being. A human being. Its parts were articulated with heavy, antique hinges where the joints of a person would be but its soft interior could leave no doubt. It was as much a prison as an iron maiden rusting and blood stained in an ancient chateau, only lacking the needled interior to terminate its macabre charm.
Once closed it would hold a person completely. The only openings that I could make out were at the juncture of where a pelvis would fit, both front and back. There were also cutouts at chest level. Two of them through which breasts might be drawn and punished.
A Reluctant Witch in The Land of BDSM: Racked and Ravished Threeway Page 2
