Pleasure in the Pillory Ch. 01

Then she tossed the garment aside, her hands swooped behind her back and the bra was off, those majestic 40-inch breasts falling into their natural uplift. Patricia leaned over and pushed one shining cup against my sex trench. Another teasing path up my body followed, and then the cup was against my nostrils.

I inhaled my sexual perfume, then the bra went the way of the slip. Now she stepped out of her panties. Oh my god, her pussy was adorned at the mons by a sleek little pad of pubic hair, her sex was shaven – the labia lips lush and full, begging for oral adoration. But before that I had to have her panties, of course.

This time, Patricia simply traced the gusset of the garment over my mons, then my belly, then my breasts, traversing each globe, then the wonderful scent of her snatch invaded my senses. The panties were sopping wet, a fact that made mesoproud – I was arousing her! Had they been dry, I would have been mortified.

The visit of her glorious, most intimate, garment was fleeting. It was soon tossed aside, I heard her shoes hit the floor, then the wonderful woman climbed onto the bed and knelt over my face.

"So much for my residual perfume, my divine little Penny," she said, addressing me in the diminutive for the very first time, "now for the real thing!"

And her snatch was lowered to my expectant, panting, hungry mouth.

The taste was sensational. The musky melange of sex juice and urine mingled to provide me with a head-spinning aroma. My tongue wedged in between her labia lips, sucking on her rampant juices for all it was worth. Then I went for her vagina, moist as her labia, dripping with love lotion. Then her clitoris – thick and swollen.

"Yes, baby, yes," she moaned, as she face-fucked me, "do it to me, oh yes, you've done this before, haven't you, you slut?"

But it wasn't a question, really. It was a statement and a statement I had no hope of commenting on as her minge mashed down on my mouth while I worked to bring her to completion.

The pent-up sexual tension between us was having its release now and there was no way she could hold out for long. I licked and laved at her throbbing sex and soon she was bucking and plunging on my mouth, her breasts swaying and jumping from her erotic exertions.

"Oh yes, oh yes, my sweet little pillory slave, suck me, lick me – flat tongue there, on my clit, my clit," she panted as her climax smacked her around.

And as I sucked her to a shuddering orgasm, one of the world's most erudite and brilliant historical writers was reduced to a one-word automaton as she bounced up and down on me: "Clit, clit, clit, clit." And then she was done.

Patricia fell off me, groaning with pleasure. I, too, was panting from my tongue-flicking task, but soon we both regained our normal breathing patterns and she smiled sweetly at me.

"You realise, my darling Penelope," she said, "that I have to put you in my pillory for your naughty behaviour?"

I nodded. "Of course, mistress," I said, eschewing the term "madam" for one which I now deemed to be far more accurate.

She kissed me softly on my pussy-smeared nose and added: "But before we go down and join Charisma, there's the small – or, hopefully large matter of your orgasm. I presume you will have no objection to me providing you with one?"

I tried to place my mouth on hers, but she pulled back. "Lie down, darling, let Patricia do the work now," and with that she slithered down my sweat-stained body, kissing me on each lust-filled nipple on her journey, before she was lying between my thighs, her faces inches from my sopping snatch.

I spread my thighs wide, then placed my heels up on her beautiful bouncy buttocks. Her hands came underneath mine and cupped them. Then her mouth was on me, working its wicked ways.

I sighed as her mouth made its initial caress, a probing, long licking of my anus, a target that I had neglected to worship during my time between her lovely thighs. Was this an oblique criticism, an example of "This is what I like" from my new mistress?

I revelled in her licking at my rear passage, and then she was off on a journey around my sopping snatch, my cunt – sorry, but that's the perfect word for it in this context – my labia lips and finally my clitoris.

I had dreamed of this for so long, since our first meeting at The Savoy when I had unashamedly stared at her breasts, that the excitement of the occasion totally overpowered me. I felt myself writhing beneath her oral ministrations, then I was sobbing – no, hissing: "Yessss, yessss, yessss."

Then, with a feeling of total relief, I came on her mouth, crying out wildly "I love you, I love you" over and over as my orgasm washed over me like a pounding surf smashing onto the sand. Then it was over, and she pulled herself from me as I panted and spluttered before sighing as the surf faded away and I came back down to earth.

Patricia lay alongside me, smiling at me as I recovered from my climax. Then she kissed me full on the mouth, and I could taste my own pussy juice on her lips as we clung together.

"Right, you wicked little witch," she said, breaking off the oral contact, "now for your punishment. Ready?"

I nodded eagerly. Although my stomach was in a churning, excited turmoil, something told me to trust this lovely 48-year-old woman. "Yes, mistress, because I trust you," I told her. And she kissed me again before swinging her legs off the bed and pulling me to the edge. She then placed my high heels on my feet, put her own back on and, with my wrists still tethered by the straps at my upper thighs, we made our way downstairs.

She led me to the back of the house, down a staircase I'd never seen before, into a corridor lit by harsh strip lighting. At the end stood a large oak door. On it hung a door knocker – shaped like a pillory!

Beneath the knocker was a little white tablet with black lettering. The words read:

"Come into my parlour,

Said the mistress to the slave,

And I will whip you soundly,

If you dare to misbehave."

Patricia smiled at me, in what I think was meant to be a smile of reassurance. "Sorry about that rather dreadful doggerel, my little mischief, but I can promise you my novels read slightly better," she joked.

A rap on the door by Patricia was answered by the dusky 26-year-old, Charisma, wearing an outfit that simply took my breath away.

Her gorgeous 36-inch breasts were thrown up into magnificent uplift by a black leather, quarter-cup bra, her nipples standing out erect and large, surrounded by big black splotches of areolae.

Like her employer she wore a suspender belt, only hers was made of black leather to match her push-up bra. Black silk stockings covered her lovely legs and she wore gleaming black high heels. Her pussy was bare, her genital region totally shaved, but with a glimpse of black streaks at her mons where her pubic hair had been. Her labia lips were shockingly pink in contrast to her dark, chocolate brown flesh toning.

Charisma grinned hugely at me and smiled: "Welcome to madam's parlour of pain, Penelope, do come in."

Patricia pushed me inside and now, for the first time – apart from the picture file on my mistress's computer – I saw the pillory. It looked daunting, overwhelming. It scared me, but at the same time excited me.

"Charisma, get our guest comfy in the pillory while I get her drink organised," said my mistress, shutting the door behind her and walking over to a large refrigerator standing in one corner of the well-lit room. I say well lit, but in fact the only lighting was a quartet of professional lights such as those used by studio photographers. They illuminated the scene of what was to be my punishment and my humiliation.

Charisma took me by the hand and walked me over to the pillory. She lifted the cross beam of the thing until it stood up vertically from the horizontal half beam below it.

"Over here, my dear," said the black beauty and I stepped up to the cross beams and the sturdy wooden central post of the implement.

The side where the miscreant stood was a wooden board, about four feet square. My heels made a clip-clop noise as I stood on it. I then leaned forward and placed my wrists and my neck in the lower halves of the holes. These were padded with thick rubber, to cushion the throat and wrists.

Then Charisma lowered the pillory's upper beam and bolted it shut. The effect was to totally imprison me, but Charisma had another item of bondage to complete my helplessness. She attached a gleaming metal spreader bar to my ankles, forcing them about a yard apart. This served to make me feel extremely vulnerable, of course.

My stance now had my body almost horizontal to the floor, but slightly above a straight line.

When Charisma had completed her task, my mistress returned to my position and placed a large metal bowl in the metal hoop below my face and sat herself down on the pouffe. It was of such a height that her breasts were directly in line with my mouth. They were lovely, the nipples hard.

Speaking of nipples, Charisma then asked: "Shall I nipple clamp her, madam?"

Patricia said "no". "I want her to concentrate on the taste of my perfume and the feel of your flogger, my dear," said the author. "Nipple clamps can come later."

I breathed a sigh of relief, which was dashed from me when Charisma walked around in front of the pillory. She was holding a single-stranded leather lash, which looked menacing.

"This is Charisma's lovely lash," announced my boss. "She will use it to sting you, but not break your flesh. It is a perfect implement of punishment, and she wields it like the professional whipmistress that she is."

By now Charisma was standing close to my pilloried head and I could detect a strong aroma wafting from her shaved pussy.

"OK, Charisma," said Patricia. "Give her a taste of the flogger before I give her a taste of something else. Oh, Penny, by the way – you will address Charisma down here, but only down here, as Mistress Charisma, understood?"

"Yes, mistress," I replied. And then the lash struck me! I heard its hissing path of descent before I felt the stroke, but when the flogger cut across my ample bum cheeks it delivered a stinging shock of almost electrical fury.

"Thank-you, Mistress Charisma," I bellowed, taken aback by the strength of the blow.

Another hissing sound, another "Tisssssssh" as the flogger cut into me. Four more times Charisma struck me, alternating the blows criss-cross or diagonally across my buttocks as she prepared me for my next submissive test.

"Lovely, Charisma," said Patricia, after the sixth blow had descended, "I think our pretty little slave will have got the message by now."

"May I lick her now, madam?" I heard Charisma ask from behind me.

Patricia smiled sweetly at me. "I think that would be lovely – what do you say, Penny? Can Charisma lick you down there?"

I got the distinct impression that whatever my response was, Charisma was going to lick me "down there", but I dutifully replied: "Yes, please, mistress."

Patricia nodded to her assistant. "It seems this randy little slut isn't content with merely being pleasured by my tongue, she also wants yours, my dear. Go ahead."

And the next caress I felt from Charisma was her tongue poking into my anus, then a comment: "She has a delightfully musky arsehole, madam. Very tasty."

Patricia laughed: "Trust you to start there, my dear. But yes, it is very tasty – in fact, she's very tasty all over down there, full stop."

Charisma put her employer's statement to the test then, plunging her tongue into my sopping wet pussy.

Then Patricia began her domination of me. "And speaking of 'tasty', let's give you a totally different taste treat now," she said. "Which nipple would you like me to dip in the urine first, my dear?"

I gulped. "Er, whichever one you wish to dip, mistress," I said, in what I hoped was suitable submissive-speak.

"Excellent, my dear, excellent," said Patricia, "you are playing your part to perfection."

And with that she dipped her engorged left nipple into the cool urine and presented it to my mouth. I sucked it and for the first time tasted the brackish, salty tang of her nectar. I had hardly sucked the pee from her nubbin, than she bent and lowered her right nipple, being careful to submerge just the bud and the areola into the piss.

Again I tasted the cold but tangy piss as her other nipple was presented to me for adoration. The taste was strong, but I knew I was going to have to learn to love it.

"Lovely," said my mistress, "now for a slightly fuller immersion." And with that she dipped about half of her large left globe into the urine. I licked and sucked around her beautiful breast, trying to concentrate on the wonderful firmness of her flesh than the salty, stingy taste of her piss.

Then the other breast was half-dipped into the liquid and I realised as I sucked and lapped at her breast that Charisma was bringing me close to a shuddering climax. I pushed and heaved backwards as far as was possible in my stringent bondage, craving relief from the black woman's tongue as she worked now on my clit.

As madam dipped almost all her left breast into the bowl, I let go a howl as my orgasm flooded through me. Patricia sat back, smiling sweetly at me as my pleasure erupted, her breast gleaming from its latest dip in the piss pot beneath my mouth.

Then, when I had recovered from Charisma's oral attentions, Patricia leaned forward and allowed me to lick her breast all over, finishing at the nipple as my final place of worship.

"Madam," said Charisma, after my last breast-cleaning task, "may I use the strap-on next?"

"Of course, my dear," said my boss, not even deigning to ask me! "And we'll go with the nipple clamps for her next time, too, I think."

The next time? It was all over?

Patricia stood and smiled down at me, her pussy dripping wet from arousal, framed by the sexy black suspender belt and stockings. "Now it's time for walkies," she informed me, "can't be having you cast in that position."

And Charisma removed the top of the pillory frame and allowed me to stand, stiffly. Patricia moved in front of me and held out a hand. "Come for a little walk around my darling," she said, "and then we can get on with your pillory play. Down you come."

So I shuffled off the board and hand-in-hand with Patricia I moved around the room, easing the aches in my legs and back.

"Just let me know when you're ready for more, my darling," said my employer, as we walked – well, she walked, I shuffled – around the torture chamber.

After a few minutes, I turned and looked into her lovely deep blue eyes. "I'm ready for the pillory again, mistress," I informed her.

Patricia regarded me with a lovely smile, a smile that looked like one of intense gratitude. She stepped up to me, our breasts brushed and she ran one hand over my bare buttocks, one between my parted-thighs.

Then she kissed me softly on the mouth and told me: You know something, Penelope, my dear?"

"What, mistress?" I asked.

"I think you're just a sucker for punishment."

To be continued.