Freeuse: "I Like to Watch"

Freeuse: "I like to watch"

Author's note: Other stories featuring Lila are "Lila, Freeuse Slave" and "Freeuse: Relationship Building." However, unless you're a stickler for reading things in order, you don't need to have read the other stories to know what's going on in this one.

I was walking around the bar district in the evening looking for work. We aren't allowed to solicit, but my Freeuse Slave collar and cuffs were on display, and I was hoping to attract a man, or perhaps a woman, who was feeling horny and kinky and would like a short-term slave for the evening, to do with just about anything they wanted short of injury.

"Freeuse!" Ah, a hail. The evening looked to be lucrative after all. And maybe fun.

A short, well groomed man wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater waved me over. He held out his client card and I ran it through the reader attached to my phone. Looking at the information on the screen, I said, "Jason. So, what would you like us to do tonight?"

"First, I'd like to check out what I'm paying for." He slid his hands up under my shirt and explored my breasts through my bra. Once I'm hailed, I can't refuse whatever the client feels like doing - that's what contract slavery is all about. So I let him explore without complaint, like any other woman not on a slave contract wouldn't.

"Like what you feel under there?"

He didn't answer right away. He just flipped my skirt up and admired my pantyless crotch. He inspected the crotch strap that held my big vaginal and anal plugs in place, running his finger under it for a feel of my pussy lips. Passers-by registered only mild interest at what was going on and then looked away politely - since contract slavery had been legalized, people had gotten pretty used to seeing scenes like this, and more, in public places. My pussy moistened a little as it registered the attention. "Ahh," he said. "Nicely plugged, just the way a slave should be. We'll see what else we can do with those holes as the night goes on, won't we? Now, let's have your leash."

I took it out of my bag and handed it over. He didn't seem interested in the gag and the set of locks that were also ready in my bag, although I suspected that would change by the end of the evening. He just clipped the leash to the D-ring on the leather slave collar that was rivetted around my neck and began to tow me. I broke into a trot to keep up.

He towed me down the street and around the corner to a a very smart-looking late model Lexis. Men who can afford to pop for a sex slave for the evening usually have pretty good cash flow.

"I was just going out for a bite to eat and a couple of drinks," he said. "Then I saw you and I thought, maybe some company would be more interesting. You look really sexy, and I'm sure we can find some interesting things to do together. Lock please."

I reached in my bag, handed him one of my four locks, and brought my wrists together behind my back. He slid the lock through the D-rings on my wrist cuffs, also riveted in place, and snapped it shut. Any time I want to, I can resign my contract with Consolidated Sex Slaves and get the cuffs and collar cut off, but at the moment I was really happy doing this work. I have a strong bondage fetish, and also relish some spanking, flogging, and other mild to moderate masochistic activities. It all makes me so horny that I cum explosively, and I have no intention of giving it up any time soon. The money is nice, too.

Jason opened the door for me, which was especially considerate given that he had just locked my wrists behind my back, and I slid into the passenger seat. He reached over and fastened my seat belt for me. It was nice that he wanted to keep me safe and to comply with the law. The straps across my lap and shoulder also felt a bit like bondage, given the fact that with my wrists cuffed I couldn't reach the release. My pussy moistened a little more.

We drove for twenty minutes or so, and Jason made conversation between reaching over for another firm squeeze of the boob that was nearest to hand.

"So, what attracted you to being a Freeuse Slave?"

I decided to be just plain frank. "I love being paid to be tied up and fucked. It beats the hell out of working at McDonald's."

"Works for me. I love tying women up and fucking them. It seems we have complementary tastes in recreation."

It was hard to follow up that line with more polite conversation, so we drove in silence from then on. We ended up at a moderately posh-looking townhouse. Jason parked the Lexis in the attached front garage, walked around to the passenger side, and let me out. I still had my bag slung over my shoulder - I always keep it there, since I'm frequently without the use of my hands.

There was a stairway at the end of the garage, and I expected that we would use it to get to the main floor of the townhouse, but instead Jason towed me over to a door on the garage level. He opened it for me, flicked on a light, and we went inside.

Interesting. A carpeted, windowless room with unusual décor. An X-cross against one wall. A bondage bench tidily positioned against another. Chains on a pully hanging from the ceiling. A third wall with sturdy-looking rings at a variety of heights and a short articulated arm that looked like it was likely a dildo holder, a little under a metre from the floor. Some canes and floggers neatly displayed on hooks, and cupboards and drawers that undoubtedly held other interesting toys. Jason's desire for a bondage slave was obviously no spontaneous whim.

Jason took my bag off my shoulder and rummaged in it. He found my gag, a highly effective black neoprene panel gag with a large stuffer ball. He came up behind me and held it in front of my face. I obediently opened my mouth and he pushed the stuffer into it behind my teeth, then buckled it firmly behind my head. I love the way that gag totally blocks my mouth. I wasn't going to be able to make any sound that didn't come out my nose.

Jason unfastened the lock on my wrist cuffs and unhooked the leash from my neck. He positioned a small stool against the ring-covered wall and pointed to it. "On the stool, back to the wall."

I knew where this was going. He pulled my left wrist over to one of the rings on the wall, selecting one that would hold my arm out at about forty-five degrees. He secured it there, slipping the lock he had just removed through the ring on my cuff and through the ring on the wall. Then he fished another lock out of my bag and did the same with the other arm.

Finally, he took my left ankle and pulled my leg out at about the same forty-fine degrees, leaving me standing on one foot. He locked my ankle cuff to another ring, then pulled the other leg out and locked it. I grunted behind my gag as my weight came down on my wrist cuffs. They are designed mostly as restraint cuffs, not as proper suspension cuffs, but they are wide and made of soft material, so they would still support me reasonably well without cutting off circulation or risking nerve damage.

Jason moved the stool away, then stood back and admired his work. "Ahh, that's how I like to see a woman. Plugged, gagged, and stretched tight against a wall."

He opened a drawer and retrieved a pair of large and very authoritative-looking scissors. I'd been expecting something like that as soon as Jason started locking me up without removing any of my clothes. Some clients find that ripping or cutting clothes off is an erotic thrill, and Jason was obviously one of those. I wasn't worried about losing my wardrobe as it would automatically be covered by a Slave Item Replacement Fee charged to Jason's account. Anyway, I don't wear very expensive outfits when I'm on duty, for this very reason.

Jason started with my top. It was fairly flimsy fabric, so once he got it started with a small cut at the neckline, he could just rip it all the way down the front. He made two more cuts where it went over my shoulders, and the whole ruined top slid to the floor.

Next, he snipped the shoulder straps of my bra. He reached around me and unfastened the clasp, and my generous B cup breasts tumbled out. My nipples are full, and I usually add just a light touch of rouge to my areolas to accentuate them. In my opinion, my breasts are just the right size - big enough to be a good eyeful or handful, but not so big that they hang down on my chest. They sit high and rounded, inviting a hand or a mouth to explore them.

Jason did just that. After just standing and admiring for a few minutes, he took my right nipple between his lips and sucked it, making it instantly hard. I doubted that it was entirely a coincidence that I was hanging at just the right height for him to do that without bending down.

At first he just sucked my nipples and pinched them between his lips. Then suddenly he bit down, his teeth sinking into my areola above and below my nipple. He didn't do it hard enough that I felt in danger of losing the nipple, but hard enough and suddenly enough that I was caught by surprise and screamed behind the gag. That gag is great for silencing my mouth, but if I want to, I can let out a pretty good, if muffled, scream through my nose.

He released my nipple and leaned back to look at the bite mark he had left. "Shit, Lila. I see I got quite a rise out of you. And you're starting to get a rise out of me, too." He dropped his pants and underwear and stepped out of them, exposing a half-erect cock. He slapped me hard across the side of my left breast, then the right one that he had already laid a bite mark on. With every slap, his cock got more erect.

The slaps were hard enough to leave red marks, but now that I was expecting them, I could concentrate on turning the pain into pure pleasure. I focussed on each slap, feeling the waves of sensation shoot down my body from my breasts all the way to my clit.

Since I now had Jason figured as a sadist, I continued to produce muffled yelps and whimpers with each slap to give him what he seemed to want. I also fought against the bondage, squirming and pulling on the cuffs as if I actually thought I could break free of them. Of course, all I did was make my breasts jiggle enticingly, but my demonstration of how utterly helpless I was turned his cock into a raging hard-on. Meanwhile the slaps, combined with the erotic effect of being bound and gagged so securely, were ramping up my own arousal until my incipient orgasm felt white-hot.

Jason stopped slapping after a while and took some deep breaths, staring at the red marks he had left on my upper body. While he stared, he slowly stroked his cock. It was a fairly average size, about ten centimetres or so - around six inches - and thick enough to fill any of my holes without ripping me in half. Good. I like pain, but I prefer impact pain, not pain from being stuffed with something that really won't fit.

"Fuck, Lila. Until I had you hanging here with those gorgeous tits out, I hadn't realized how badly I needed this. Your tits are perfect, just begging me to hurt them." He picked up the scissors again. "Let's see if the rest of you measures up."

He started cutting my skirt slowly and methodically, starting at the hem and working up to the waistband. One last snip and the skirt fell away to join the shirt and bra on the floor. He pulled my high-heeled shoes off and tossed them aside. I was wearing black stretch-top stockings, which he could simply have pulled down and slipped out from under my cuffs if he'd wanted to, but he obviously enjoyed the slow reveal of cutting clothing, because he started at the top of each one and cut them down to cuff level before pulling them off.

Now I was completely naked, wearing nothing but the belt and crotch strap holding my plugs tightly in their respective holes. The whole business of being stripped so clinically, a reveal at a time, had my pussy begging for something in it other than the inert plug, something that would slide in and out and coax my G-spot to trigger the massive orgasm that was building up in my pussy and spreading slowly through my entire abdomen. Something warm and living would be best, but I'd settle for a dildo or anything else that would scratch that enormous itch. I tried begging him to please fuck me, but with the stuffer forcing my tongue down and the panel firmly buckled across my lips, nothing intelligible came out, just a desperate-sounding "Mmmphhh-mmmphhh."

My desperate whimpers didn't motivate him to proceed with fucking me, but they did serve to turn him on further. He grinned widely at the sight and sound of my helplessness and picked up the pace of pounding his cock with his hand. He looked and sounded as if he was right on the edge himself, but before he came, he stopped masturbating and came over to me.

"Ah, Lila, there's just one more thing that will make this picture complete." He unfastened the belt and crotch strap and took them off. I guess he figured that the thick leather would have been too much of a challenge for the scissors, so he just used the buckles. Then he pulled out the vaginal plug, releasing a little flood of pussy juices that had been trapped behind it. He left the anal plug in my asshole, firmly gripped by my sphincter clamped around its snapback. Without the crotch strap, I could have eventually relaxed my sphincter enough to let me force out the plug, but I didn't want to unless I expected something else to go in there to take its place. I found the feeling of stretch and pressure added a powerful layer to my intense sexual arousal.

Jason explored my now-freed pussy, pulling my labia apart and slipping three fingers up my wet, slippery vagina. He curled his fingers and massaged my G-spot briefly, causing little squeaks of pleasure to sneak out from behind the gag. Then he pulled them out, leaving me empty. I expected to feel his cock slide into me to take their place, but nothing more penetrated me. I whimpered in frustration.

"It sounds like you want me to do something more with that nice, wet cunt of yours, right?" I nodded and made an affirmative "Mmmm-hmmm" noise. "Well, let's see what we can do about that." He opened a drawer and retrieved a huge, fat dildo, several sizes larger than the plug he had just removed.

I was right: the articulated arm was a dildo holder. Right then it was empty and hanging down from the place where it was attached to the wall, but clearly it wouldn't be for long. Jason clamped the dildo in place at the end of the arm and brought it up, adjusting the arm's mechanical elbow and wrist until the dildo's tapered tip was pointed straight at my "nice, wet cunt." He pushed it up until it pried apart my labia and entered my vagina. He had to use quite a bit of force to persuade it to go all the way to its base, pulling a genuine, non-fake muffled scream out of me. That fucking thing was huge, and he didn't ease it in gently. Spasms of pain shot through me as my vagina struggled to accommodate the monster. See above about preferring impact play.

Once he had the dildo as far in as it would go, the end lodged against my cervix, Jason tightened knobs at the wrist, elbow and shoulder of the metal arm so it would stay there. He stood back and gazed at me, my breasts still covered with red handprints and now my vagina impaled firmly on a big cock made of hard silicone.

"That's better. You looked a bit limp dangling from your wrists like that, and you could move your hips too much. Now you're really locked in place."

He was right. Any trace of slack was now gone from my ankle cuffs and my legs were firmly stretched into their rigid spread position. I tried to move my body back and forth and from side to side and it didn't budge. I felt like a giant butterfly pinned to a display board.

The most frustrating thing was that, although I really wanted something in my cunt, I wanted something that would move and help me release the huge orgasm that was just teetering on the edge. The dildo was exactly the opposite, my cuffs holding me so firmly that I couldn't flex my knees and try to fuck it in and out of me. I just had to hang there with it lodged and immobile.

Jason didn't seem to care that all my holes were plugged and there was nowhere for him to put his cock. He just resumed jerking himself off, his hand moving faster and faster and his face assuming the contorted rictus of male orgasm. As I often do when I'm watching a man jerk off, I wondered where he found so much speed and stamina. I've never been able to sustain either very long when giving a man a hand job. Maybe it's the leverage of moving in toward your own body. Certainly I can go pretty hard and long when I'm flicking my own clit.

As soon as I thought about flicking my clit, I instantly regretted it. It reminded me how badly I needed to get off, and how impossible it was to reach my clit or any other erogenous bit to help myself do it. Jason was obviously focussed entirely on his own cock and was using me purely as a masturbation stimulant, without any intention of doing anything to me other than whacking my breasts and giving my pussy a quick fingering.

Finally he stopped with his hand clamped tightly around his cock, grunted, and spewed gush after gush of warm, sticky cum all over my belly. Not really the orgasmic release I was hoping for.

Jason pulled over a straight-backed chair and sat panting, looking at me pinned naked to the wall with semen starting to run down my belly toward my crotch. He gazed a long time, evidently finding the sight sufficiently erotic to make up for the fact that he hadn't really fucked me. Finally he cleaned off his cock with a handful of tissues from a conveniently placed box and stood up.

"Now that was one of the best jerkoffs I've had in a long time. Looking at you spread out on that wall with your cunt stuffed sure beats whacking off to Pornhub. I hope you enjoyed watching."

I hadn't particularly, but of course I couldn't tell him that, and wouldn't have even if I hadn't been so well gagged. Client satisfaction is my business, and if he thought I got off on watching him spank the monkey, fine. Unless he had anything else planned for tonight, I was just going to have to suck it up until I got somewhere private enough to take care of my needs myself.

I wondered what had happened to "I love tying women up and fucking them." Maybe he considered this fucking.

He didn't seem in any hurry to let me down off the wall. He sat down again and just took in the sight, playing idly with his now-limp cock. Then he went over to where he'd dropped his pants and took out his phone. He sat back down in the chair and placed a call. From the way he held the phone pointed to his face rather than against his ear, I knew it was a video call.

"Hi, Mike. Did you get my text saying that I'd picked up some entertainment for us tonight."

"Yes, I did. What have you got for us?" Jason switched to rear-facing camera and held it up, no doubt sending Mike a good view of me on the wall with the dildo up my pussy and semen still glistening on my belly.

"Holy fuck, Jason. You sure picked yourself a good one. She's a stunner, and you have her all staked out beautifully. You're an artist with all those restraints. I'll bet she can't move a muscle. And just look at those tits."

"Her tits feel just as good as they look. Want to come right over and check?"

"I'm nearly there already." Jason ended the call but took a few pictures from various angles, including a closeup of the dildo prying apart my labia and disappearing inside me.

A double client. That meant double pay and usually a double tip, whether they DP'd me together or fucked me in sequence. And depending on Mike's tastes in slavery, I might just get that good rogering I'd been craving so badly. The evening was looking up.

While he was waiting for Mike, Jason opened a cabinet and poured himself a whiskey and soda to sip while he sat admiring his prize butterfly. I could certainly have used a drink myself, but he didn't seem to be interested in taking off my gag and offering me one. Nor did he seem interested in putting his pants back on, which would have blocked access to the cock he was still stroking gently and playing with.