Fantasy For Emma Ch. 02

His come splashes my clit, drenching it in hot stickiness.

With both hands I coat the extended, hard, pearly nub of my clit with his welcome come

And push downwards against the miniature cock-thing that crowns my cunt, my hands

slithering on the wash of his sweet, sticky seed..

I can take no more . . .

I come and I come and I come and I come and I come

And I scream"Yes master, Yessssssss."

Before collapsing into an intense, orgasm-induced oblivion.

One final image fills my head

A swirl of cocks and cunts,

tits and balls,

nipples and clits

rushing towards me,

caressing me,

penetrating me,

covering me,

smothering me,

sweeping me

into

a state

of

non-being.

I slump on the floor, satiated, unconscious.

My beautiful body lies there in its nakedness

Legs akimbo

Holes agape

A Submissive

A Sexual device

A Toy of pleasure

A Slave.

A Slave to love.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later.

Much later.

The slave lies sleeping on the bed.

The afternoon has passed.

The darkness of night has taken its place.

The room is bathed in a pale blue light, giving everything an appearance of translucence.

The slave stirs, gently tossing, stimulated by dreams of possession, punishment and perversion.

She has often dreamed in this way, but she has never dared to turn her dreams to reality.

Her fantasies remained fantasies . . .

Until now!

The sudden realisation shakes the slave from her reveries.

She is awake, very awake.

Recollections of the afternoon's events flood her mind.

The orgasms, the buggerings, the beatings, the bondage, the invasions of her body, the madness,

the satisfaction; the memories parade behind her still closed eyes.

Her placid face does not betray the fear that dominates her thoughts.

"But," she muses,"fear Is the tool of enslavement. And with enslavement comes . . ."

Joy pushes the fear to the back of her mind.

Submission was what she asked for, submission was what she got. Brutal, but beautiful

submission that made her body the property of another. The vessel for her master's desires.

Tentatively, carefully, Emma explores her soft, rounded body.

There is little evidence of the experiences that battered her frame earlier in the day.

Her torso tingles with renewed vitality.

Someone has bathed her, washing away the sweat of exertion and ecstasy.

Someone has salved her cuts, her weals, her aching extremities with unguents, perfumes and

tender attention.

Her body still aches, but the ache lies dormant in the background, acting merely as a reminder

of the acts which had given her so much pleasure.

Someone has powdered her pudenda, dusted her puckering ass, oiled her swelling buttocks,

administered to the curves of her burgeoning breasts.

The slave opens her eyes.

Someone has bound her breasts in a harness of soft, chamois leather.

Hoops of chamois encircle the base of her tits.

Four strips of chamois radiate to the centre of each breast joined to a second hoop of silver that surrounds her areolae, leaving her nipples poking expectantly from the centre.

A delicate, black silk suspender belt encloses her waist, supporting pale blue silk hose that luxuriate her thighs, her calves, her toes painted in pale, sparkling pink.

A thin seam runs through the rear of the stockings, accentuating the strength and curve of her legs.

A circle of chamois balances on her hips, j6ined by additional strips that tumble down her front, her inner and outer thighs.

The strips connect to tightening hoops of chamois which wrap round her upper thighs, gripping gently but firmly.

Two single strips of chamois stretch from hip to thigh circles, cutting provocatively into her middle buttocks, leaving the outer globes of her ass wonderfully exposed.

Finally, a white thong of silk embraces her genitals, narrowing dangerously as it meets the V between her thighs. It separates her exposed cunt-lips with a thin cord of silk that dives between her leg, crosses (barely) her ass hole and buries itself into the deep cleft between her buttocks.

The slave smiles.

Someone has dressed her carefully for exposure, accentuating strategic points of her body, stressing her near-nakedness with lines and curves that enhance the soft swellings that make her body so special.

Someone has . . .

(The slave picks up a hand mirror she notices on the bedside table.)

. . . Adorned her areolae with soft pink rouge.

The same rouge accentuates her cunt lips and (curiously, she holds the mirror between her legs) the tight, restricted pucker of her near virgin ass hole.

Someone has . . .

(The slave lifts the mirror to her face.)

. . . painted her lips the same, soft pink. The broad sweeps of lipstick stress the wide, soft bows of her lips.

. . . rouged her cheeks, redder this time, stressing the strong line of her cheek bones.

. . . applied blue mascara to her eyes and surrounded them with thin, sparkling black eyeliner.

The whole effect is of total sluttishness, a classy slut, but a slut non-the-less.

("And that is what I am," the slave muses."A slut who submits to my master. A slut who willingly opens her cunt and mouth for his pleasure. A slut who thrills to the slash of leather on tit, and ass. A slut who accepts the invasion of cunt and ass to thrill her body. A slut who revels in coming and being used as a vessel for cum. A slut who desires nothing save to satisfy

my . . . ") She voices the last word openly.

"Master!?"

Someone . . .

("HE is here. My master is here.") The thrill of his dominating presence is almost too much for her. She longs to submit once more; to offer herself to him in any way HE feels fit; to enslave herself to him at any time and in any manner; yes, in any manner; to sacrifice herself to the power of submission. The slave is ready to the serve.

. . . calls her name from the depths of the room. Her given name. Her name of submission. "Emma. Come to me."

She slides from the bed . . .

"Come to me in submission."

She sinks to the floor, instinctively knowing his desires, and crawls on her belly towards the voice hidden in the pale blue darkness. The cold wooden floor arouses her thighs, her tight, swelling tits as she slithers like a snake towards her master.

She crawls towards the voice, seeing nothing, accepting nothing, wanting nothing save a desire to touch and be touched.

The journey seems endless, but at last she lies, abased as his feet, and she kisses his unshod feet, sliding her tongue in and around his toes.

"My perfect slave." Beneath the severity there is no denying the depth of affection.

She clings to his legs, noticing for the first time that HE is covered from shoulder to ankle m a suit of soft, shiny white latex. The smell of the rubber invades her nostrils, the perfume of talcum mixed with latex makes her head swoon.

The slave diverts her gaze upwards and notices, with desire, that the latex is slashed at the crotch. She realises, with some satisfaction, that this will give her the access she wishes for, but then . . . a shiver of disappointment wracks her feverish body . . . she sees that his cock, his lovely cock, is pouched in a bag of black silk that gathers at his crotch.

Never-the-less, she slides her long, pink painted nails upwards, over his strong calves, over his muscled thighs and slides her nails over the bulging pouch that retains the cock she so desires. Her fingers roam sensuously over the already straining pouch, and hold his swelling balls, his pendulous cock in her soft hands, longing to have his shaft invade her now lubricating cunt. "Later, good slave, later."

HE reaches down to her uplifted head and secures a collar of soft black leather around her neck. A leash hangs from the collar and HE grips it tightly, close to her neck and forces her upstretched face down to his ankles.

"To please me, you must please others.".

The shocks of his words bring her eyes into focus.

Staring into the pale blue gloom she realises . . .

They are not alone.

Someone else stands to the rear of her master.

Someone else is looking on her near nakedness, her submitting body.

Someone else has been introduced into the duality of master and slave.

And she realises with a horror that is mixed with sensual curiosity that her master has decided to take her to the utmost point of submissive degradation.

HE has given her, his slave . . . to someone else.

Someone else will partake of her willing body.

Someone else will debase and defile her.

And with a thrill she had not expected, she accepts this added level of submission, she accepts that she can be used by anybody, any time, in any way they chose. She will offer her cunt, her mouth, her tits, her thighs; her ass, her ripe heaving body, to anyone, to everyone, to whomever her master desires. She is HIS slave and it is her duty, her role, her desire to please him. She has agreed to submit, so she will submit in any way HE feels fitting.

HE yanks at her leashed collar and pulls her to her feet.

Her master turns to the . . . Emma cannot make out the identity of the someone else in the pale blue light . . . and pulls Emma forward face to face with her new subjugator.

Latex covered hands boldly grip her face.

Soft, spreading lips cover hers and a tongue invades her mouth, sliding, slithering, searching over gums and teeth and her own slavish tongue.

Her master speaks.

"This is Emma, my slave.

She is for your pleasure.

Make sure she obeys your every wish . . . "

The shock takes Emma by complete surprise.

She had not been expecting this.

She had been prepared to offer her body to any man, to do with it as HE felt fit.

She had been ready to give up her cunt and tits and nipples to any man that wished to use her. She had not expected to be used by . . .

BY . . .

. . . Another woman.

"Master." The slave's voice is querulous, doubtful."I can not . . . I have not . . . I don't know how" Tears well in her soft, mascaraed eyes.

"Silence." His anger roars through her ears. "You are a slave. You are here to learn, to enjoy, to submit."

HE hands the leash to the woman.

"You may begin."

The woman yanks the leash

And drags the tearful slave, stumbling, apprehensive, uncertain, back towards the bed.

The bed on which she had so recently lay in awaking reverie.

The bed on which she was now to be sacrificed

The bed on which she is now to submit.

She has been given to this person by her master.

She will, she must, give herself unreservedly.

She advertised, yes advertised, for submission

Then, submit is what she must do.

With one final yank the slave tumbles onto the bed

The awaiting bed

And opens her arms to accept . . .

("Yes, that's it, that's who she is.")

. . . to accept . . .

"I am ready.

Mistress!"

* * * * * * * * * *

A smile crosses her face.

"My name is Sonja, Emma.

I am a submissive to your master, just like yourself

I will control you like a mistress, but I am equally your master's slave.

Remember, as I pleasure you, that you belong to him and no one else."

She is so confident, so strong as she stands before my out-stretched body.

I have never done this before.

If I said I had not been at all curious, I would be lying, but the act of making love to another woman had always felt strange, alien, wrong.

"You will obey Sonja's wishes Emma."

It is the master, my master, OUR master.

"IF you fail to satisfy her she has my permission to deal with you as she sees fit."

A perverse thought of disobedience flits across my mind.

My traitorous, lustful body wants me to disobey.

I can not disobey him, but I could disobey her . . .

. . . and accept the consequences.

None-the-less, I know I must eventually submit to her wishes, even though I do feel that it is wrong.

Yet, despite my reservations, I am fascinated by this girl (she is clearly younger than I am) who dismisses my more mature years and treats me as her equal. In her eyes we are both women and we shall share our womanhood.

HE speaks.

"You will find I have trained Sonja well.

I found her in Rio and taught her how to use sex to control and to please.

You will find she is different, very different."

What does HE mean by that?

As I take in this girl/woman's beauty, I realise she is very different from me, but his words suggest something hidden, something secret.

I cannot help but contrast our differences.

Our differences that extend from head to toe.

My hair explodes in a glorious halo around my head.

Her hair is long, red and falls heavily down her back.

My skin is white, ivory, translucent.

Her skin, the product of her Brazilian nationality, is mocha coloured, dusky, exotic.

I lie here dressed in harnesses and silk,

She stands over me, a collection of latex and flesh.

A red latex halter-top adorns her upper torso, tight, constricting.

Two holes are cut in the front from which her breasts jut forward.

My harnessed tits are large, soft, round, an explosion of curves, mounted by pushing, thrusting nipples.

Her tits are exquisite, small, firm cones of flesh rising from her breastbone. They rise to a point where tiny, stabbing nipples lift upwards. A gold ring penetrates each nipple, each ring is joined by a thin silver chain that hangs down to her waist.

My belly is full, fecund, with a womanly swell.

Her stomach bulges only slightly, constricted by her narrow waist.

"Wear these."

She hands me a pair of deliriously high-heeled shoes.

They strap at the ankle, and a mesh criss-crosses my feet, binding them in shiny, patent leather. The heels taper dangerously to malevolent points.

They slide on easily over my stockinged feet.

She wears heels of equal magnitude, but at the ankle the leather gives way to more red latex. Long, soft boots of latex cling to her legs and soar upwards, flaring at the top into soft leather that almost cuts into the top of her thighs.

She stands there, arms folded, red latex gloves reaching, almost clinging from her fingers to the top of her thin upper arms.

My arms hang by my side, naked, submissive.

My thong-covered cunt, is swelling, white, glistening. The fleshy cunt-lips are cut by the thong and project forward, enticingly.

I can see nothing of her cunt. She wears a pair of red latex hot pants that cling dangerously tightly to thighs and ass. Her ass is smaller than mine. She can match the swell of my fleshy, soft buttocks, but she is too small to equal the beauty of my deep, inviting ass cleft.

The hot pants are fastened at the hip and at the crotch by shiny press-studs. They suck her body inwards. I can see nothing of her cunt, but the latex clings tightly. There is a long gash that stretches from the top of her thighs to the centre of her crotch. The latex has been sucked into her hole, revealing nearly every outline of her vagina.

She looks dangerous and she knows it.

I am lush, ripe, open submissive. I am happy to be this way. I will submit to her danger.

She kisses me again, holding my chin in her gloved hand. Her tongue wraps around mine.

Her mouth tastes sweet and honeyed. The danger has begun.

"Kneel."

I turn over, facing the headboard of the bed.

She takes one hand and wraps it with a silk stocking.

Then the other.

Efficiently, swiftly, she fastens my hands to the extremities of the head-board.

I kneel there, my arms spread wide, my rounded ass jutting upwards, my harnessed breasts hanging pendulously, swaying slightly as the bed shudders.

She climbs on the bed and slides beneath my upraised body.

The latex brushes against my swaying tits, the sensuality stimulating my nipples to jut downwards, expanding, hardening.

She takes my tits in her gloved hands and the thrill of latex betrays my body again.

She strokes my dangling, swelling globes, softly at first and them more forcefully. The strokes turn to kneading.

I moan as the pressure on my tits becomes harder and harder. My nipples have never felt so hard.

Her fingers grip my hanging boobs and sink into the soft, pliant flesh, gripping, squeezing, forcing them to unnatural, wonderful shapes. I am literally putty, putty of flesh, in her hands. My nipples expand and thrust downwards. My cunt starts to wetten.

She sucks one nipple into her mouth.

Her tongue swirls round my rouged areola.

Her lips surround my ever enlarging teat.

She presses the tip of her tongue into the tiny dimple of my suck hole. She pulls her tongue back and my nipple strains forward trying regain the pleasure of her tongue.

But it is no good. She removes her mouth from my tit end.

My nipple sticks out obscenely, majestically.

"She is ready, master."

HE passes her a small, ring like object.

She forces the ring open on a hinge revealing a pair of sharp, tiny points.

She passes her tongue over the points, then over my nipple and . . .

"Noooooooooooooooo!!!!"

She closes the hinge and the teeth fasten themselves into the flesh of my of my firm, swelling, expanding nipple and push through the surface to join in the middle.

Pain surges through the pap, through the puckered circle that surmounts my tit and fills the soft, hanging flesh of my dugs.

I shriek, my head shaking wildly, my body jerking in sympathy with my poor tortured tit end. Tiny, tiny drops of blood form at the point of entry.

She licks the ring that penetrates my pap

Sucks the drops of blood into her mouth

and . . .

Begins again.

On the other tit.

"No. Not the other one."

Nipple into mouth.

"No. It hurts. It hurts."

Tongue swirls areola.

"Please no, please."

Lips surround teat.

"Please, aaaah, yes, please, please."

Tip of tongue into suck hole.

The sensuality distracts from the pain in my spiked nipple.

"More, yes, more."

Nipple strains forward, swelling protruding.

In my lust I order my torment.

"I am ready, master."

"Noooooooooooooooo!!!! Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes."

Spikes sink into my other nipple and I luxuriate in the pain.

She presses her lips to my breast as if to suck away the torment. The pucker of her lips leaves red lipstick tattooing the alabaster marble of my tit.

The specks of blood roll down her neck.

She lifts her neck towards my panting mouth, offering me a Eucharist of my own blood.

I suck it greedily into my mouth, accepting my pain

She unleashes the harness that binds my tits and my tits hang gratefully free.

She detaches one end of the silver chain that links her own breasts and passes it through the rings impaling my nipples.

Then again.

She pulls.

My nipples, my throbbing tortured nipples, pull towards each other, straining with torment. They are less than two inches apart.

The pressure forces my breasts together, creating a cleavage of billowing soft tit-flesh.

She runs her tongue down the tit valley and buries it deeply into the fleshy gorge.

Her tongue hardens and pushes in and out of the chasm between my breasts, fucking my tits with her clever pointed cock of a tongue.

I moan, wishing I could suck the cones of her tits into my mouth.

She refastens the silver chain to the ring in her tit, leaving a length dangling.

Her legs, which are now between my outspread knees, lift and she rubs her knee against the thong that covers my cunt. Cunt juice starts to flow from my covered crack.

Our tits, joined by chain, are less then six inches apart.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and lifts her body towards me.