Ellie's Basement Bonus

"As you can see, the kitchen got a complete update just two years ago. It has custom maple cupboards, granite counters, a double sink, and a white-oak hardwood floor. And the stainless steel appliances are all new and top of the line."

As much as I liked the kitchen, I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off of my realtor. Ellie couldn't have been more than 25 or 26, and she was stunning. A touch taller than average height, she had dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect skin. Her white tank top and light cotton skirt showed off a body that other women would die for. Although she didn't seem unsophisticated, she had a girl-next-door quality to her that made her seem both wholesome and even a touch innocent.

When she'd picked me up that morning at my hotel, I thought I'd won the lottery. I was in the process of moving from Boston to Seattle and needed to find a house quickly. My marriage of ten years had ended six months earlier, and I'd become increasingly dissatisfied with the politics at my high tech firm. Turning 40 had convinced me that I needed a fresh start. When a Seattle company offered me a high-level position with a huge salary increase, I jumped at the opportunity.

Now I needed to find a place to live ASAP.

"Would you like to see the finished basement?" Ellie asked now. "I haven't actually seen it myself. The day of the realtor walk-through, I had three other appointments and couldn't stay around."

As she led me down the stairs, Ellie chattered away about the high points of the neighborhood and the public transportation options. I was so focused on her slim waist and firm butt that I didn't immediately notice when she fell silent.

"What on earth is that?" she asked after a moment.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and found myself looking at a large wooden structure. It had two round posts coming out of the base and a flat crossbar with three holes in it. The hole in the center was considerably larger than the holes on either side.

"It's a pillory," I replied, happy that I could put my undergraduate history major to use for once.

Ellie looked puzzled. "What's a pillory?" she asked.

"It was invented in medieval times," I explained. "And the Puritans used it to punish people in the 1600s. You had to stand in the town square with your head and hands trapped in the holes. It was a form of public humiliation."

"But why would Mr. Garrison have had a pillory in his...?"

We both saw it at the same moment, and the sight stopped Ellie mid-sentence. On the wall was a rack with several items hanging from it: a riding crop, a cat o' nine tails, a leather paddle, and a long, thin cane.

"Oh," she said with sudden understanding. I have to give her credit, though. Although she was blushing, it only took her a moment to pull herself together.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Baker," she said, crossing the floor to the structure in four brisk steps. "This contraption should have been removed before the showing." She had her hand on it now, as though she hoped she could make it vanish with her touch.

"First of all, call me Dylan." I responded as I joined her next to the pillory. "Second of all, none of this is your fault. Apparently, Mr. Garrison was into kinky sex. It's no big deal. I'm just surprised he didn't take it with him."

I noticed that Ellie was now stroking the top of the pillory in what seemed like an oddly sensual manner. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had a glazed quality to them. I had a sudden premonition about my young realtor, and with the same decisiveness that had always served me well in my career, I decided to act on it.

I quickly flipped up the metal clasp on the side of the pillory and raised the top half of the crossbar.

"Why don't you try it out?" I suggested innocently.

Ellie took a step back as though she'd received an electric shock. "I couldn't do that," she protested.

"Why not? I can tell you want to. Besides, I'm the customer, and I insist," I finished in a quiet but firm tone.

I could see Ellie's inner conflict playing out in her face as she stared at the open crossbar. After a moment's hesitation, she stepped back to the pillory and lowered her neck and wrists into the appropriate semi-circles. I carefully lowered the top of the crossbar, trapping her head and hands, and flipped the clasp back into the locked position. I could swear I heard her emit a low whimper.

For a moment I just stood there, enjoying the sight of my beautiful young realtor trapped in a medieval device intended for punishment and humiliation. Then I strolled over to the rack on the wall and casually removed the riding crop. I slapped the leather flap against the palm of my left hand a couple of times, which produced a satisfying smacking sound.

"Mr. Baker...Dylan," Ellie said, her eyes wide with alarm. "What are you doing?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead I strolled back to the pillory until I was standing right in front of her. She had to strain her neck to look up at me.

"I don't think..." she began, but I quickly shifted the riding crop to my left hand and put a finger over her lips.

"Shh," I said. I held my right palm against her cheek for a moment, and I could feel her nestle against it. Then I began to run my thumb back and forth across her lips. When she parted them, as I suspected she would, I slid my thumb into her mouth. She immediately began to suck on it greedily.

"That's a good girl," I said as I slid it back and forth in her mouth. "Suck on that thumb. If you want, you can pretend you're sucking on a cock." I was rewarded with another low whimper.

After a few minutes, I slid my thumb out of her mouth and took the riding crop back into my right hand. She was breathing hard now, and her mouth was hanging open.

"Have you been having naughty thoughts, Ellie?" I asked, once again slapping the leather flap of the riding crop against the palm of my other hand. When she didn't answer immediately, I put the flap of the riding crop under her chin and lifted her head until she was looking directly into my eyes.

"I said have you been having naughty thoughts?" I repeated in a commanding, no-nonsense tone of voice.

The question lingered in the air for a few seconds before she finally whispered, "Yes." I felt a surge of triumph run through me, but was careful not to adjust my calm, firm tone.

"And what do you think should happen to naughty girls?" I asked.

"They should be punished," Ellie whispered, and she licked her lips in a way I can only describe as hungrily.

I walked around the pillory, then, until I was directly behind her.

"Spread your legs," I said. She did as she was told.

After rubbing both of her inner thighs with the flap of the riding crop, I took the hem of her dress and slid it slowly up the top of her legs and over her butt until I reached her lower back. Although she wasn't wearing a thong, her high-cut panties revealed an ample amount of flesh, and her ass was even more gorgeous than I'd imagined. I tweaked the top of her underwear together to create a thong-like effect and then began to run the end of the riding crop across, first one of her ass cheeks, and then the other. It didn't really surprise me to discover that there was a dark wet spot covering most of the crotch of her panties.

"Do you think naughty girls should have their pretty bare bottoms spanked?" I asked.

Ellie let out a low moan. "Yes," she answered in a faint voice.

"I can't hear you," I said.

"Yes," she pleaded, much louder now. "Please."

So I did it. Using the riding crop, I spanked alternate cheeks until Ellie's ass was a nice rosy pink. Every once in a while I stopped to run the leather flap back and forth between her legs, which elicited high-pitched whimpers each time. As I worked on her ass and pussy, her moans grew steadily louder and shriller. Finally, I stripped off her panties and told her to spread her legs further apart. Her pussy was now glistening with her own juices, which were also running down the inside of her thighs.

I quickly removed my own pants and underwear, and a moment later I was running the head of my cock back and forth in her soaking cunt. By this point, Ellie was literally begging me to fuck her. The once poised, girl next door was now a puddle of helpless lust (almost literally, given the large wet spot on the floor). I teased her for a long time, slipping the head of my cock in and out of her pussy, and enjoying her growing frustration. When I didn't think she could take it anymore, I slid the full length of my cock inside her and began to fuck her with hard, steady thrusts. After a while, I slipped my hand up her dress, undid her bra, and played with her big firm tits as well.

"Do you like being a naughty girl?" I asked as I fucked her."

"Yes," she wailed, all reserve gone now.

"Are you a horny little slut?"

"Yes," she shouted again.

"Say it," I commanded.

"I'm a horny little slut," she said. "I'm a horny little slut."

And she was still saying it 30 seconds later when she began to come. I waited until she was done and then emptied myself inside her.

It all came out when we were sitting at the kitchen table a few minutes later. Ellie had retrieved two bottles of water from her car, and I will admit to needing a cool drink after my recent exertions. Between her flushed cheeks and the sheen of sweat on her forehead, Ellie looked as though she needed one as well.

While we drank the water, Ellie explained how she'd discovered her submissive side. When she was a freshman in college she'd come across a collection of erotic stories in her roommate's desk drawer. The theme of the collection had been domination and submission. Ellie had been shocked when she first read the stories—even a little disgusted—but she'd also been dismayed to discover that they made her feel more aroused than she'd ever felt in her life. Whenever her roommate was out, she would reread one of the stories and masturbate.

However, Ellie had felt too ashamed of her submissive predilections to share them with any of her boyfriends. Although she often watched porn and read erotic stories with dominant-submissive themes, she kept that part of herself hidden. When she saw the pillory in the basement, however, and when I sensed her submissive tendencies, she hadn't been able to hold back any longer.

"I'm so embarrassed," she said, blushing an even darker shade of red than her freshly spanked bottom. "It was so unprofessional of me."

"Did you enjoy the sex?" I asked.

"Oh, my God! It was the best sex I've ever had," she exclaimed.

"Then there's nothing to feel ashamed of," I told her. "It's just the way you're built. Besides, you should feel great about today."

"Why?" Ellie wondered. "Because I came so hard?"

"No," I laughed. "Because you just sold me this house."

* * *

In the hours after dropping Dylan at the airport for his flight back to Boston, I felt deeply embarrassed about what I'd done. I'd always taken pride in my maturity and professionalism, and here I'd gone and fucked a client. What if he reported me, I wondered anxiously? That seemed unlikely, on further reflection, given the fact that he was the one who'd seduced me, but the whole episode left me shaken.

Before long, however, my embarrassment gave way to another sensation. As I reflected on my experience in the pillory in exquisite detail, I began to feel hornier than I'd ever felt in my life. And in the days that followed I began to masturbate multiple times a day. Unable to control myself, I even masturbated in the bathroom at work a couple of times.

The truth was I'd been attracted to Dylan the moment I'd picked him up at his hotel. I'd always had a thing for older men—imagined how good it would feel if one of them took charge of me and pushed my sexual boundaries—and Dylan was exceptionally good looking. His deep voice and self-assured manner pushed all of my buttons.

Even before we walked down into the basement that day, my pussy was tingling, and I found myself fantasizing about how good it would feel to be down on my knees sucking on his cock. When I saw the pillory and realized what it was for, it felt like my insides had melted. Dylan didn't have to do or say anything; just touching it made the crotch of my panties soaking wet. I'll never understand how he sensed my vulnerability at that moment, but afterwards it felt as though he had read my mind. Once he raised the cross bar of the pillory, my will to resist was gone.

Over the next few weeks, I exchanged numerous emails with Dylan about the sale of the house. The tone of these emails was friendly but strictly professional, and he didn't mention or even allude to what had happened in the basement. All I could think about was how much I wanted to be back in the pillory, but I didn't want to bring it up for fear he saw it as a one-time incident. So I went on playing the part of the helpful realtor and kept my fantasies to myself.

By the time the closing rolled around, however, I was beside myself. The weekend before, feeling desperate, I'd called up an old fuck buddy of mine and had him bend me over my kitchen counter and fuck me hard from behind. I even let him stick his thumb up my ass, something he'd pestered me to do every time we had sex.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked afterwards, clearly pleased with the change.

"Let's just say I was going through a dry spell," I said, hoping that a good fucking would bring me some much-needed relief. But just two hours later I was lying on my bed, hand inside my panties, playing with my pussy like my life depended on it.

Dylan's behavior at the closing confused me. He greeted me in a friendly enough manner when he got there, but he didn't seem especially excited to see me. And when I told him I wanted to drop something off at his new house that afternoon, he responded in the way you'd expect a customer to respond to a realtor he barely new. Was this really the man who'd spanked my bare bottom and then taken me from behind just a few weeks earlier?

By the time I arrived at the front door of his house with an expensive bottle of champagne in hand, I was almost ready to abandon my plan. Then I thought of the pillory waiting for me in his basement, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

Dylan smiled when he saw the bottle of champagne and led me back into the kitchen, but he maintained the same reserved manner he had at the closing. Instead of getting out two glasses and opening the champagne, as I'd hoped, he immediately put the bottle into the refrigerator.

"That was so thoughtful of you, Ellie," he said. "I'll always feel grateful that you found this house for me."

I just stared at him. My clit was throbbing so hard by this point that I could barely stand still, and I was so wet I feared he could smell my arousal.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he went on, as if he was trying to dismiss me.

I lost it then. The last shreds of my pride and composure melted clear away.

"Yes, there is," I stammered, barely able to get the words out. "I need you to put me in the pillory again. I need you to discipline me. I need you to...I need you to fuck me."

I was quivering now, and for one horrifying moment I thought he was going to throw me out of the house and report me to my superiors. Instead he walked over to the place where I was standing and took my chin in his hand.

"Have you been having naughty thoughts again, Ellie?" he asked in that deep, low voice, the voice that made my pussy tremble.

"Yes," I gasped. "I've been having very naughty thoughts."

It hit me, then, that he'd been playing with me. I suppose that realization should have made me angry, but instead it made me feel even hornier. As he led me down into the basement, all I could think about was that this powerful, confident man had me (and my pussy) wrapped around his little finger. And when he lowered the crossbar of the pillory down over my head and hands once again, I actually groaned with relief.

He used several of the instruments to spank me this time: first the riding crop, then the cat o' nine tails, then the leather strap. And when he wasn't spanking me, he played with my clit and brought me to the edge of orgasm four or five times. By the time he went upstairs to get himself some champagne, I was feeling frantic. The only reason I didn't beg him to let me come was that he'd stuffed my sodden panties in my mouth. The smell and taste of my own juices made me even more aroused.

When I heard his footsteps come down the stairs 20 minutes later, I moaned in anticipation. He stood behind me for a minute without speaking, and then I felt something wet splash across my ass. It both cooled my tender skin and made it sting at the same time, a combination that felt wonderful to me. It was only when he walked around the pillory with his glass of champagne that I realized what the liquid was.

"A gorgeous ass deserves the best champagne," he said, pulling my panties from my mouth and tossing them on the floor.

He gave me a sip of his drink, much of which ran down my chin. Then he set his glass down on the table and took off his pants and underwear. The sight of his cock made moan again, and I began to strain my head forward and stick out my tongue in a desperate attempt to reach it. He teased me for some time before sliding it into my hungry mouth.

And then Dylan did something that pushed me completely over the edge. While I was sucking on his cock with abandon, he picked up the riding crop, reached over the pillory, and began to spank my ass again. From time to time, he took a break from spanking me and ran the edge of the leather flap back and forth in my butt crack. Invariably, one of the triangular points of the flap would catch in my asshole, and he would leave it there for a moment, twisting in it a way that felt indescribably delicious. It occurred to me that I needed to get Dylan to fuck me in the ass sometime soon, but before I could pursue that thought I started to come.

I immediately dropped his cock out of my mouth and began to writhe and wriggle and wail like a crazy thing. I'd never come before without someone actually touching my clit, but I was sure it was the most intense orgasm I'd ever had. My pussy and lower abdomen continued to spasm long after I thought it was over.

When I could finally think straight again, I looked up at Dylan through what I was sure were glassy eyes and smiled at him.

"I'm a naughty little whore," I whispered, and immediately felt my pussy start to tingle again

"You certainly are," Dylan agreed. I noticed he was stroking his cock while he spoke, and I guessed what was about to happen, which only made me hornier. "Would this naughty little whore like me to come in her face?" he asked.

"Yes please, sir," I replied eagerly, and as he began to stroke his cock more vigorously, I opened my mouth wide.