tagBDSMExperiences With My Nemesis Nero

Experiences With My Nemesis Nero

byBlack_Lace_Vixen©

Author' Note: The story you are about to read for the most part is true. I have lived in South Africa, Switzerland, Washington D.C. and Rome and now am living with my husband near Paris, France. The name I have assumed for my own sexual experiences is "Vixen," the alter ego of a model.

Now I have written different stories about my life; my inner mind and psyche, my experiences and the flaw in my character, my weakness for sex, about how I could have said NO, but I let things happen to me. Perhaps some of you will relate to my real life experiences and sexual desires while some of you will undoubtedly fantasise about them and me.


*****

I have never thought about writing about my lustful experiences and my dark cravings, but Lord Nero changed that. If I only could have said NO! But I let things happen to me. He has made me look in the mirror and ultimately back at my life, who I really am beneath my snobbish exterior and expensive clothes, this is about my weakness for sex, the pleasures of being sexually dominated and about the lustful experiences this naughty sex kitten has made.

Now, after this weekend when my husband was on a business trip, with Nero and two of his black friends, he has made me open the sexual box of Pandora again, the box which I thought I had closed. Between the events with Nero on my wedding day now 18 months ago and until this weekend I have been a good girl, a faithful wife, wanting to bury the remembrance of my cravings, not wanting to think about how I have been a passion slave to some of the men and women.

Nero recognised there is a sexual fire is burning inside me and the sexual animal inside wants to be satisfied, the animal wants to be watched while I am standing nude in front of the mirror on my high heels and masturbate with my legs apart, wanting to be used, wanting to be fucked like a bitch in heat, wanting to be lost on the waves of my passion

But first an introduction, imagine a spoilt and educated former model, being used to the finer things of life. When I walk into a room I turn heads with 5.10", 112 lbs., 37C-25-35, 29 years of age. I still have the looks, the body and the face of a model, my hair is long and dark, my eyes are alluring and sparkling blue, my eyebrows are brown and I have full sensual lips. I have been told I have nice long legs and beautiful eyes, but my breast are what men like most about me, they are large and firm and my nipples are dark and usually get hard when men watch me.

When my husband is away on a business trip, I like to feel free, I like to and wear g-string panties and go bra-less, my breasts pushing up against my silk blouse, wearing short and sexy dresses from Azzedine Alaia which are extremely tight and sexy outlining my hips as I move.

When I travel alone I prefer jeans or short satin skirts, with silk tight shirts or t-shirts and nice elegant blazers from Chanel. At night I like to wear sexy black silk or lace underwear mostly from La Perla with black lace stocking from Fogal, spiked high heels and of course nice hats, making me look respectable and reserved just like the aristocratic snobby bitch I am.

As to my background I was raised in wealth and abundance, coming from a prominent family, being raised to be the best and to excel at everything I do and to be the best. But above all I am intelligent, spirited and elegant, but under my expensive clothes I am very sexual orientated with an insatiable appetite for sex.

Since 18 months I have been married to a much older and rich man, but money was never an issue. I met him at a moment in my life that I had graduated, I was also getting bored with my former boyfriend and modelling, the clients, travelling, stupid photographers, disrespect and it was not exciting anymore.

So at the time he persuade me to make a sailing trip with him from the south of France to Cape Town and back and after having spend 14 months with him on the high sea, getting married was the natural thing to do. My wonderful husband in my respectable life is a true gentleman with smiling eyes, intelligent, kind and tender who has no idea about my dark cravings inside my pretty head. These cravings visit me when I am alone in our big bed between the silk sheets, making me feel sweaty, dirty and used when I wake up.

For my husband I am a great asset, beautiful and intelligent, well educated, nice to see, nice to look at, nice to dance with, very representative, a excellent host especially during diners, with lots of humour and very entertaining for him for his many business friends. I have always been popular and love to be at the centre attention and know I have a mind and a body that attracts men like flies.

He prefers to see me meticulously groomed, dressed in designer clothes or tailored business suits, long stylish skirts, cashmere sweaters, silk blouses and conservative shoes, above all he does not approve at all of my recent teasing and my flirting with his some of his friends, that really starts to annoy him, especially if I go bra-less and am dressed provocative wearing mini skirts or tight T-shirts.

My husband has no idea that under the right circumstances I am a natural exhibitionist who likes to dress provocative, wearing black silk garters and silk black stockings, they always make me feel sexy, thinking about becoming the puppet Vixen, who is displayed by her Master in public. How easy it would be for him to push me into being his passion slave, ordering me to serve the needs of his business friends when they get invited to our estate or when I am sometimes asked to entertain them when they visit and my husband is away on a business trip.

At the thoughts of being a passion slave, I feel shame and guilt at my secret thoughts when see how our gardeners and this new security guard my husband employs watch me, thinking about involuntary taken by them, my pussy says YES, but my mind of course says NO.

Especially in the morning when I wake up late and come down for breakfast sometimes when I have to makes coffee for them on the maid's day off I like wearing my Japanese silk morning coat or when I ready to go out and like to wear chiffon. I see them gazing through the semi-transparent material at my full breasts, I see how they strip me with their eyes and it always turns me on how men stare at me, I feel my nipples stiffening and my pussy is getting moist when they violate me with their eyes.

At moments like that, I remembered how my first boyfriend Ken used me, what he called me, how he corrupted me. Remembering that first night when he made me watch a porno movie, sitting on the couch next to me. I sat there watching the screen as the women were used in every position imaginable not taking notice to what he was doing or saying next to me.

It didn't take a lot I was already moist at the first the minute the porn movie was started. He kissed my neck and opened my blouse, touching my breasts making the ache increase between my legs. I couldn't pull my eyes off the screen. I found myself drawn to the noises and the penetration the girls were feeling wanting to be devoured like that myself.

Ken was a gorgeous photographer, much older, very dominant, smart and understood I have a submissive heart, understanding that I would not say no when he made me suck his incredible thick cock saying I was like the girls on the screen and that I was made to serve his cock to whatever he desired. At this point I believed him with him forcing more and more down my throat as I became soaked in my own juices.

He told me over and over again that I was his cock sucking slut, his whore and that whores are only good for one thing. That night he took me pounded my pussy out and made me love every minute of it. I couldn't get enough.

On my way to school or on my way back dressed in my grey school uniform, always wearing a blue blazer I daily passed his photo studio and needed no encouragement to enter before or after school doing whenever he wanted, mostly it started being on my knees in front of him, kissing and sucking him always made me excited. Then he started to talk dirty to me; sometimes he called me a rich bitch, commanding me to finger myself as I sucked him, doing what he told me, to rub my breasts and clit, making me feel like a "bad little girl". After a while, he told me I sucked like a natural, that I was a very good little cocksucker. It made me ashamed and turned me at the same time how he treated me, unable to say no; how he grabbed my breasts and made me ask him to suck his cock, it was not the first time he called me a bitch, but I didn’t care anymore.

The truth is it excited me when he made me suck his cock, making me jerk him off and swallow his cum. After a while, he made me ask him to fuck me. As he started to touch me and finally entered me he took me over and over again he made me scream about how a bad little girl I was and how only his cock was to make that itch between my legs go away. Later I was itching to get back with him. I would try every excuse to be over at his place on the weekend.

Until one night when my parents were away for the weekend, he took me to a party and on returning to his house with his brother Claudio and best friend Paola who was much older. I learned that night the joy of being their passion slave, rough sex and being used and stretched in every hole and that my body was made for both their and my own pleasure.

I still remember how wet Ken made me, when told me to reveal myself, standing in front of him in the middle of his studio on my high heels with my long legs spread apart, ordering to show my merchandise to him, opening my blouse for him, removing my blouse, unzipping my skirt for him. How I felt his eyes on me, how he looked at my tits, feeling my hard nipples.

How hot he made me when he talked dirty to me, the more dirty words I heard, the more my body responded without any control over my desires, telling him I was a bad girl, asking him to punish me, how I wanted to please him when he ordered me to play with my tits for him, doing what he wanted, slowly touching my body for him, being his private dancer in his studio, standing in front of the mirror, how I exposed my wet pussy for him, feeling the lust, how he told me to look at myself, making me tell him I was his slut.

How I could not resist these feelings, feeling the pleasure in my pussy, the feelings of my own depravity, how I wanted to suck his gorgeous cock, it was such a thick monster. How he ordered me to spread my legs making me look like a total slut and ordered me to beg for it, how I begged him to fuck me. How I could not resist the animal inside, the animal that wants to be satisfied.

Making me believe that women are naturally submissive to men and being his slut was the normal way to act, that a girl like me was supposed to act. So I let him use me anyway he wanted, I just thought that getting fucked hard was what sex was all about. I was very naive and he certainly did not want to teach me, taking full advantage of me.

Like Ken, Nero is the kind of man I should have avoided. Men like that look through me, understanding the dark cravings in my pretty head, he is a strong mentor who knows how to handle me. From the first moment I met him he aroused me the way he was looking at me, how he openly surveyed my body with his intense hard eyes, appraising me, making me nervous, exuding real savage strength. Now I know what he is like, the kind of man who looks at me the way he likes, without any respect, so very different from the men I am used too who put me on a pedestal .and treat me with much respect. I have known always that my sexuality can get me whatever I want from them, but I keep my distance from them, letting them know they will not getting anywhere with me.

I see the admiring glances I get from my husband his friends before anything else and it makes my nipples tingle how some of them watch me. Sometimes I feel them brush my ass when I dance with them, only few are more daring, pushing their knee between my legs letting me feel them or brushing my tits, but they are well mannered when I look directly at them, that is as far as they dare go, if they only knew how moist that makes me, feeling them.

I have cultivated my reputation as the nice but reserved and respectable married Lady they think I am. They are putting me up a pedestal, but I know better, I know the truth, deep inside I have cravings of being a slut, its my nature, with the qualities of a "belle du jour", the contrast is so exciting for me, allowing myself to think about that, makes me feel the tingling, the very familiar heat between my legs. But it's funny that they have no idea about what is beneath the surface of my respectability, the dark side to my personality, craving the attention of men.

My decent husband has no idea how bored I am, which is the basis of my discontent and how much I am starting to miss my model days. How I miss my agent, reminding me what Alex a South African Photographer told me on my first assignment, "all models prostitute their body, modelling is like acting, to convey a look, a mood, showing their firm flesh, models are nothing less then whores", and I think he is right. We models parade on our high heels almost nude floating on the catwalk, dancing like stripers, sexing it up, showing the fire between our legs, tempting men, making the men want us.

Having observed me for the first weeks, how well she understood me, telling me the first time I came to her apartment spending the afternoon in her bed "I know there is a slut inside, lets bring her out, you just need a little coaching". That I should start thinking about myself as a hot commodity, to be bought and sold, or at least rented. And it was Laura's to negotiate the best possible price and conditions for my time but that I should follow all her directions to the letter, doing what I was told to do..

After a few weeks being daily on "go and see" to different photographers she finally took me to one of the influential casting directors she knew very well, telling me he was very well connected with the major fashion houses as well as in the film industry.

The audition was for a well known lingerie firm and I knew that if I got it the exposure would mean a lot to my career and had a potential long term and international spots. Laura said I was called because of my eyes, my breasts and my long legs, instructing me to dress sexy.

In the morning I looked at myself in the full length mirror and was satisfied with the way I looked. The micro-mini showed off my buns and my legs, the spike red heels gave my legs a nice line. Looking at my tight silk blouse with the three bottoms open I remember thinking they would love my breasts.

It was a short drive from the townhouse at the avenue Foche where my uncle let me stay to the Montparnasse tower. When I was shown into the air conditioned office, I felt my breasts swell. The office was close to the top 51 floor and huge in size and had a spectacular view all over Paris and it was I view I have seen many times at night after my first visit.

The casting director was in his forties, he was great looking, dressed in a dark blue suit. I could feel the strength in his hand looking at me with dark penetrating eyes, very sure of himself. As he introduced me to a dark voluptuous women who owned the lingerie company and her husband.

They told me to sit down on low leather chesterfield chair in front of them, making me very uncomfortable the way my short skirt was riding up, knowing they could see my minuscule thong covering my pussy as I pressed my knees tightly together, looking in the cool green eyes of the women who looked straight at me making me uncertain and nervous.

After some small talk about my background, my uncle and my parents, her husband looked at my book complimenting me that it was done very well. Explaining that they were looking for a "fresh face" and what was required of me, as well as the PR demands and my presence at some of the parties they held at their estate.

I was asked to get up and was standing uncertain in front of them on my high heels, standing with my legs apart in a silk blouse and micro-mini to exhibit my qualities. She watched me strut my stuff, shaking my tits, parading in a mini skirt on my high heels in front of them like on the runway, moving and trusting my hips suggestively.

They looked at me in a very professional fashion, almost disinterested, as the were looking at a piece of meat. Until Laura told me to stop and if I would please take off my clothes?. It startled me, making me freeze at the spot, hearing Laura's voice from the distance " what wrong Vixen, don't you want to get naked for us".

Then I heard the strong voice of the women, " Vixen Laura has told us that you take directions very well, I expect you to obey me, you are a very beautiful women with your clothes on, now I want to have a look at you since we are going to pay you a lot of money for that lovely body of yours, so dear don't waist my time or leave"

I had no alternative; other models would not hesitate at a opportunity like this. I was going to do whatever they wanted and have to undress for them and they were going to watch me;.

Trying to look defiant at her; I just did what she told me, as they watched me I opened my blouse slowly dropping it to the floor. As I was standing there she told me to take off my satin bra and I reached behind my back and unclasped it slipping it off, revealing my big firm breasts for them, thrusting my boobs out so that they were displayed to their best advantage

As they were watching me, my nipples becoming very hard and erect, it really started to turn me on standing in front of the window looking out over Paris, in front of these people I had never seen before, I could see a change in their attitude, I might never get a chance like this again, there was lust in the room, the civilised surface was gone. I knew these men wanted to fuck me but I still could not place the women who was clearly in charge and dominating the room with her presence.

As she got up from her chair walking up to me, she was standing behind me. I felt her fingers lightly travelling over my back, telling me, "You like this, don't you, showing yourself off and being dominated, serving others, don't you?" Then she told me, "I want you to serve me Vixen, take off the rest and slowly, show us what kind of model you are." I could not refuse her, knowing she was in charge of me, dominating me. They all watched me smiling as I unzipped my skirt, dropping the rest to the floor, standing completely nude on my high heels in front of them.

Then she was telling me to turn around. I tried to stop, but she told me not to stop, "sluts like you need this, I know you love showing off your body to men, flashing and tempting men makes you hot, this is what you need, don't you my little slut?"

I was standing in front of her and she touched my eyes, my lips, my throat, letting her tender fingers brush my breasts, my hard nipples, my flat tummy touching the lips of my slit. I tried not to move, closing my eyes, letting this woman I had never seen before treat me like her whore, playing with my nipples, caressing me sliding her hands between my legs; it was so humiliating when he told me, "spread your legs, my little slut." I bit my lip as my body responded, trying to fight the arousal, thinking "please not again", but I knew what would happen; My little slit was already moist with anticipation, my nipples were tingling. What could I do?

I just opened my legs and heard her voice, " I want you to touch yourself, finger yourself and I want to hear you come for me " her voice was so demanding asking such depraved things from me". But I did what she ordered me, feeling the wetness, needing to satisfy the lust between my legs. I heard her demanding voice, "Vixen I know you want to show us what a slut you are, I want you to fuck yourself Vixen". It was making feel so unbelievable hot that I slid two fingers into my pussy, moving my hips back and forth, doing what she wanted reaching an incredible organism for my new demanding Mistress.

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