tagBDSMMistress Melanie's Gay Bar Antics

Mistress Melanie's Gay Bar Antics

bySpar©

The clothes pins on his nipples were killing him ... and he loved it. He'd come to learn, over about three months, that he was Mistress Melanie's Pain Slut. Often he wondered what it was he sought more: the pain; the humiliation; or Melanie's approval. She had the ability to expertly dole out a measure of each in a way that kept him coming back for more. Hell, she kept him running back for more. And, each day as his addiction for each of the three grew he ran to her faster than the day before. In the early days he wondered about himself, why she affected him as she did. But, that had long since stopped. Now he freely admitted to himself, if not to others in his life, that he lived to do her bidding.

In each of their encounters it seemed that her bidding became more and more painful, humiliating and, strangely, affectionate.

Just two nights before Melanie had called him at the hospital where he worked as the Vice President for Medical Affairs. His secretary, Kelly, had come to believe Mistress Melanie was a physician working in another hospital across town. Kelly believed that Dr. Melanie Harris was being recruited by Dr. Hunter Blane to head-up the Neurosciences Program. In fact, once she'd heard Hunter joking with Dr. Harris about her successful Pain Management Program.

About thirty minutes before the call came in Kelly brought a small brown paper-wrapped package into his office. It had been delivered DHL with a bold "Courier Delivery" sticker on it. "Dr. Harris sent this over with a note saying that you should not open it until she calls. What's going on?"

Hunter's pulse immediately began to race and he experienced a solid, spontaneous erection as he glanced up from his paperwork, trying to act normal. "Who knows? Set it down next to the phone. I guess I'll find out when she calls." Apparently, he seemed composed enough because Kelly moved on.

"Dr. Shilling would like to see you at 5:00 pm after his last patient. Seems he's unhappy with the block time the OR Supervisor is giving him. He's never happy you know and doesn't really bring us patients. I don't know why you put up with him. Pain in the ass." Richard "Dick" Shilling really could be a pain in the ass and Hunter would have shared that the Dick was a tolerable enough pain considering his wife's father was contemplating an endowment to the hospital which would go a long way in the current campaign for a new Women's Center. But, and this is how weird his personal life was becoming, the combination of her comment about "pain in the ass" and the sight of the small package resting near the phone distracted him to the extent he could not engage in their usual banter. Hunter didn't speak; Kelly smiled and left the room. Hunter waited for the call. It came.

His direct line, most recently her line. "Hunter did you get my gift?" He reached for the box with his free hand. As he did, he paused in route long enough to punch the speakerphone button. He placed the handset in it's' cradle and completed the journey to the box with both hands. The ritual began, she spoke quietly and directly, "You may open the box and tell me what you find." He deftly unwrapped the package to reveal an elegant sterling silver box, four inches square and one inch deep. He spread the box open on its silver hinges and looked with to find a pair of delicate, black, sheer lace panties. He held them wide between the thumbs and forefingers of each hand.

"Panties. Yours?"

"Of course. Smell them. Put your nose in the crotch and smell me. They are probably still a little damp from my cunt juice and pee dribble. Tell me." He did, they were, he inhaled, and he spoke.

"Wonderful."

"Wonderful?" She said nothing more but her tone spoke volumes.

"You smell wonderful Mistress Melanie." He pushed the crotch between his lips.

"Good Boy, now put them on."

"What?"

"Put them on. You are going to be a Sissy Boy tonight." Hunter looked over to the door separating his inner office from the outer office and reception area where Kelly sat. It was never locked and he never required that Kelly knock before entering when he was alone. While his panic grew he heard her speak again. "Now, Hunter. Take off that manly thousand dollar suit you are wearing, skim off your Calvin Klein's and put on my pretty lace panties. You want to, I know. Do it now." His eyes locked on the unlocked door and he reached for his belt as he toed-off his loafers. Racing he unzipped his fly and shimmied out of his trousers. He stood behind his desk in jacket, shirt, tie, white briefs and black over-the-calf Gold Toes hoping to God Kelly didn't barge in.

"Hunter, do you have them on?

Panic in his voice, "I'm putting them on now Mistress." He stuck his thumbs inside the elastic waistband and ripped his underwear down to his ankles and off in one movement. Record time to remove a pair of shorts. Just as quickly he drew her delicate panties up his legs, settling their elastic waist in the indentation left in his skin by his own shorts. As he was reaching for his trousers she spoke.

"Don't put your pants on yet. Walk over to that bookshelf with the smoked glass and take a look at your reflection. Tell me how you look." She'd been in his office before and knew that the bookshelf was twenty feet forward of his desk, half way to the door. He would be fully exposed if Kelly or anyone else walked in. She knew what she was doing. He sprinted to the bookshelf, stood before it just long enough to really see himself, and he raced back behind the shelter of his desk.

"Aside from the fact that my hard cock is about to rip the lace to shreds, they look pretty silly." Hunter tried to sound as masculine as possible. He was six-two, two hundred and thirteen pounds of fit man in a woman's panties. It didn't work to make him feel better. Actually he thought he looked they way she wanted him to look, strangely erotic. His cock throbbed as he spoke; it strained in a pleasurable way against the lace.

"Now put your pants on and meet me in your suit and panties at Murphy's on Pike Street at six o'clock sharp tonight. Don't take those panties off, I warn you." Melanie hung up as he was buckling his belt and slipping his loafers back on. Underwear to panties in less than five minutes. As he settled back in his chair to await Dr. Shilling, the "pain in the ass," he caught himself thinking that her panties didn't feel all that bad on his ass. He also thought "Murphy's isn't that a gay bar?" Throughout his meeting with Shilling he was more conscious of the feeling of the delicate lace on his unusually hard cock than he was on the rambling discussion of OR times. Shilling was smiling when he left the meeting and Hunter was unsure as to why.

Murphy's was, in fact, a gay-friendly establishment. But, as he pushed through the door he saw Melanie sitting at the bar with six muscled men in black clothes and leather listened intently to her. Navy blue, silk suit and concealed lace panties and all, he slid into the group.

"Hi Mel," he said looking into each of the faces around him before his gaze settled on her. He tried to adjust his stance in a manner that would tell these guys he was straight.

A tall thin biker-type in full leather chaps spoke quickly. "You mean Mistress Melanie don't you Sissy Boy?" Melanie raised an eyebrow, smiled as she tilted her head, and looked directly at him. His mind raced. What was he supposed to say, to admit to, in front of these guy? What did she expect of him? He vacillated between arousal, embarrassment and anger. Yet, the look on Melanie's face told him what his answer must be.

"Yes, she is Mistress Melanie." Hunter found he could no longer hold eye contact with these guys. His subordination to Melanie somehow effected subordination to them as well. They seemed to close in around him.

Mistress Melanie spoke, "I told my leather-man friends you were going to be my Sissy Boy tonight and they asked to watch. You don't mind, do you? I really hope not. Who knows what they might do to you if you reject them." Hunter looked around – below eye level – and any previous notion that gay guys were sissies left him. These guys looked tough. While that alone didn't sway him he got that pissing them off if he didn't really need to made no sense. And he intended to do what Melanie asked anyway.

"Whatever you wish Mistress." He hated that his cock grew hard at the mere expressing of his committing to her will.

Melanie spun around in her seat. Hunter look down from her face as she fronted him to see she was dressed in a black leather skirt, a black leather vest, knee-high black boots, and a black leather bra none of which he'd seen before. Her naked, shaved pussy peeked from between her exposed thighs. She didn't mind a bit. She spread her thighs to the limits of the leather shirt. Wet lips parted and the pink gash winked at him. He wanted to plant his face in her crotch. He didn't care who was around, or did he?

"Well, Sissy Boy, let's show these leather-men your panties, shall we? Take of all your clothes. I'll show you Mama's pussy and the boys will watch you. It'll be fun. For me." To emphasize her point Melanie reached with both hands to spread here cunt open. The deep hole inside pulsed open and closed. Her juices glistened in the bar light. He stripped without ceremony. As his bulging cock and lace panties came into view, Hunter heard a symphony of zippers play around him. If he could have taken his eyes off Mistress Melanie's cunt he'd have seen a circle of cocks around him.

"Oh Sissy Boy, you are so cute in my panties. I almost want you to fuck me – you wish – but I'll fuck myself instead." Three fingers of her right hand, cupped together, stabbed forcefully into the engorged cont. Blood-hot labia kissed the pumping fingers. "Pull your cock out of your panties, Hunter, and jack-off for us. Give us your jism." As Hunter began to pump his cock, several of the leather-men sought to match his rhythm on their own instruments. There in the middle of an early evening barroom, eight people were pounding away at their privates in public. Only Melanie could have people doing so at her direction.

Hunter drew his palm forward and back in long slow strokes. At the end of his backstroke the heel of his right palm pounded his ball sack creating the appropriate ache in his nuts. When the palm retreated back to the head of his cock he rotated his wrist one hundred and eighty degrees around the crown. The ball sack hung over the top of the panties and it jiggled as Hunter enjoyed the feelings at the head of his cock. Her pussy-fuck was driving his crazy but he held his rhythm, not speeding up his stroke. He thought himself in control sexually for the first time in weeks. And then, she took it away.

"Which one of you He-studs wants to finger-fuck his ass?" Mr. Six-Two with 22 inch biceps, slid up alongside Hunter without missing a stroke.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit out of this Sissy Boy, and I won't be doing it with my finger Mel." Six-Two's left hand reached for the elastic waist band of Hunter's panties.

"Oh, no you won't Nick. This Boy belongs to me. I want you to work your middle finger into his asshole. You can hurt him a little but not too much. He's my Face Slave not a meat-bag. Use his asshole to give yourself some extra pleasure while you hand-fuck yourself. Be nasty with it." Hunter cringed in negative anticipation as Nick's palm slid over and down his ass cheek. The tip of a big middle-finger touched at the puckered ring of Hunter's asshole. He'd had a woman's finger up his ass before, Melanie's, and it was too bad to be honest. But what would this be like? He was about to find out. The connection of Nick to his ass made him more aware the hand to cock exchange occurring beside hi. Nick was clearly matching Hunter stroke-for-strike, movement-for-movement. Nick's finger slid inside Hunter's ass and it seemed in rhythm too. It felt as if Nick's left hand had found the rhythm as well. Hunter found himself pushing back hard on Nick's wiggling finger.

But, it was all about Melanie. The motions of her fingers in her pussy were determining the pace of Hunter's strokes. His strokes set the pace for both of Nick's busy hands. Nick's eyes were closed, he was into himself. Melanie, it appears, knew what he was about. Hunter's concentration never left Melanie's busy hands. Melanie's fingers tilted upward inside to find her g-spot and they worked over that textured pad of inner skin. Mistress Melanie was working for a squirt. Hunter sensed her intensity building and he altered his stroke to match her rising orgasm. He felt the cum bubbling in his testicles. Nick caught the change in pace himself, and worked his left hand and middle-finger in wider circles. His right hand gripped his cock in a new fashion and he increased his stroke rate.

"Hunter, I'm going to fuck'in squirt. Get over here and suck my hole. Catch every drop of me. Stop jacking off and serve me." He dropped to his knees and moved both hands to encircle her leather draped ass cheeks. His freed cock continued to be stimulated by Nick's finger. Nick someone managed to drop to his knees alongside Hunter, maintaining the connection.

Melanie's hands pulled Hunter's face into her crotch and she shot a strong stream of her clear juice between his lips as he opened his mouth. "Oh, fuck! Take Mama's jizz, Hunter." Hunter's cock, dancing freely between his spread legs, threw stream of his cum between the rungs of the stool upon which Mel sat. Nick's finger tickled Hunter's prostate, causing the stream to continue seconds longer, increasing Hunter's and Melanie's pleasure. Just as Hunter was running out of air, Melanie released her grip and settled back on the stool.

As Hunter pulled back from Mistress Melanie's dripping sex, he felt Nick's finger withdraw from his ass. Simultaneously he heard Nick moan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an explosion of semen fly through the air toward Melanie's feet. At the same time he felt globs of semen, flying from several directions, land on his lace-covered ass cheeks. He shuddered.

Melanie was up off the stool, smoothening out her leather shirt. "Well Hunter, you'll have to wash those panties when you get home. I can't wear them like that. You will now. " She moved toward the door, looking back over her shoulder. "Well Boys, hope you had fun. I sure did. Hunter, let's take Mama home." Hunter, pulling on his pants, followed.

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by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

If Mama ain't happy...

ain't NObody happy. I like this story quite a bit. I hope you've written more. If you haven't (I'll check here in a minute), then I strongly encourage you to do so.

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

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