l'Histoire d'une femme

“Wow, its pretty, well, big. Can he use it?”

“Yes, it meets the conditions of a certain mechanical usage. But really the main thing is that it belongs to me. I own it. Sometimes he has to be reminded of that fact, hence the leash and whip.”

I see him getting harder under her hand.

Not yet. I take the leash and tie it to the leg of the chair. “That will keep him put until I need him.”

“Need him for what?,” she asks.

“You will see.”

I take her hand and move her gently back to the couch. “Turn around.” She looks puzzled again. “Just do it.” She hesitates. “Now lift up your skirt so I can see your ass.” She hesitates again. I walk up next to her, grab her silly blond hair hard in my hand, and repeat. “Pull up your skirt.” I take my hand and rub it between her cheeks, sliding it firmly on her pussy. She is drenched. I grab her pussy with my other hand, hard. “You like this, don’t you? You like being bent over like this for me to see, don’t you, you slut. You like having me grab your hot pussy and make it mine, don’t you?” She shakes her head, indicating at once her desire and fear. “Tell me you want to get fucked. Tell me you are a slut who wants to get fucked with her skirt pulled up, bent over like a bitch. Say it.”

I hear a low chuckle from the other side of the room. It is him.

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

He grins. That’s what I get for not training him properly.

“Excuse me slave, did Maitresse ask for your opinion?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No Maitresse.”

“Correct. Now keep your utterly worthless opinion to your slave self.”

“Get on your hands and knees and stay there until I tell you to move.”

Where was I? God, it is hard when you are dealing with not one but two worthless pieces of ass. Getting them together is even harder.

I walk back to the couch. The blond is still bent over in an open position. She wants it. I take two fingers and unceremoniously shove them up her pussy, holding my hand firmly in place. I remove them, take off my right shoe and hand it to her. “What do you think I want you to do with this?”

“How should I know?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, Maitresse, how should I know what Maitresse wishes of me.”

Wow, she would be easy to train. A lot easier than the one over there on his hands and knees.

“You are going to fuck yourself with this.”

“With a shoe?”

“Do you see any other potential object?” “We could use this crop if you like.”

The thought of that makes her yield. She takes the shoe and starts to rub it on her pussy. I can see it glisten with her juice.

“Stick it inside you. I want to see you fuck yourself with it—fuck, do you understand?”

She moves it in and out, faster and faster. Man, she is really getting off on this. I knew she was a born slut.

I take it out of her hand. She almost falls over, losing her rhythm.

“Lick it clean.”

I watch her little pink tongue slowly emerge from her mouth, gently licking her own cum off my shoe.

“Better get it perfectly clean. I don’t like dirt.”

She licks harder, rapidly. I hit her on the ass a few times just to keep her going at a reasonable pace.

“Stay there.”

I go into my closet and pull out a few costume items. When I return, I lay them on the couch: a white cheerleader outfit, knee socks, cropped sweater, and of course some pom-poms.

She looks at me quizzically.

“Put it on, now.”

“But it won’t fit. It is too small.”

“I said now. Don’t tell me you’ve never worn a cheerleader outfit because you have “I am a bimbo’ written all over your face.”

“Yes,” she mumbles, “but that was back in high-school.”

“Well, we will just play high-school tonight. Put it on.”

I hear a certain panting from the other side of the room, but ignore it. I have to stay concentrated on this.

I watch as she slips off her skirt and blouse. “Take off your panties and bra.”

Her perky little breasts slip out. I grab a nipple and pull it hard. “You wear the sweater without a bra.” “Your tits are ridiculous, by the way. But I guess I’m stuck with them now, aren’t I. At least do something interesting with them.”

She hasn’t a clue.

I take a nipple clamp out of my bag, take two, put them on her. That should keep her in line as we prepare her little routine.

“Let’s go. Put on the skirt, socks. You are wearing heels. I don’t like flats. Fuck it if it isn’t ‘authentic’.”

“Grab your pom-poms too. You will be needing them.”

The blond gets into her outfit. She looks absurd. So absurd I’d like to fuck the shit out of her right on the spot. That’s all she is good for.

Control. I have other plans.

“Okay, let’s see a routine.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?”

“I mean, what does Maitresse desire?”

“You are to do one of those routines you learned in school. You know, as you cheered the other future brain surgeons on the football team on or whatever.”

“I can’t remember any. It was so long ago.”

This bitch really tries my patience. I hate stupidity, and blonds offend my aesthetic sensibility. She is both. Blond, dumb as a pole, and now she can’t even remember the one thing she did actually “learn” in high school.

I get up. I stand in front of her, and grab both nipple clamps through her sweater with my hands. “Does this help jog your memory,?” I ask, pulling her tits while I turn the clamps.

She starts to whine, to cry really. I could care less. She deserves a lot worse—and she is going to get it.

I stand back. She starts to move, her arms going up and down with the pom-poms, kicking her legs, jumping around. She looks like a total idiot.

“Get on your hands and knees, with your ass facing me.”

She complies.

I put a bowl down in front of her.

“Eat.”

She looks up at me.

“I said eat, bitch.”

She looks at the dried pellets in the bowl, shocked. This can’t be happening to her. She doesn’t even give her own dog this shit.

“I’m counting to three. If you don’t start eating by the time I stop, you will get something that makes this look like child’s play.”

“One, two,..”

I see her mouth move down to the bowl. This is too much. Too humiliating. To be treated like this, like a dog.

“Three”

On the count her mouth goes down to the bowl, she takes out a pellet and starts to chew it.

“How is it? Does it meet you gourmet standards? Come on, eat up. I don’t have all day. If you make me wait I’ll just refill it and you will start again. I don’t care if you throw up. You’re eating it.”

She picks up the pace. I hear her crunching. It gets on my nerves, but at least she is behaving.

Before she is finished I go pick up the bowl. “Good bitch. Now get back in the position, ass in the air.”

I walk over and take him by the leash. He is pretty eager. Always had a thing for pom-poms and dumb blondes.

“Heel,” I say. He walks on all fours next to me. I walk him around the room, just to make sure he is ready to perform properly, smacking his ass every now and then with the crop.

“Okay, you’re a dog, she’s a bitch. Now show me how dogs fuck.”

This is something he has down.

I walk him over behind her. “Check her out. Does she smell like she is ready?”

The blond tries to stand up. I grab her by the hair and push her down to the ground. “Stay put you stupid bitch. You are going to get fucked. Do you understand—fucked--by him. Consider yourself lucky. Not only is he a good fuck, when he tries a little, but he is a lot gentler than me. I’ll give it to you right up the ass where you deserve it. And you can forget the lube.”

I take a strap and collar from my bag and tie her hands to her neck. I’d like to hogtie her, but all good things must wait.

He comes up behind her, still on the leash. I’m tempted to take it off so he can penetrate her fully, but I want to watch his cock on my cock-ring, like a marionette, moving as I say, doing what I tell it to do. Besides, by the time he gets done with her she won’t even notice that she has a cock-ring and part of a leash inside her. She will just be begging for more or for mercy.

Which is what I want.

“Mount her. Mount the bitch, now.”

For him, a true sexual acrobat, this command is easy to follow.

I watch him get up on his knees behind her. He takes his hand and slips it between her legs.

“I said fuck her. I don’t give a damn whether she is ready or not. Just fuck her like she deserves to be fucked—hard, no mercy.”

That said, he just rams his huge cock right into her, so hard that she falls forward on her face.

“Get up. Now.”

She starts crying again. That’s just wasted lubrication as far as I’m concerned.

I go around to her and pull her up by her hair. The tears are streaming down her face. Her makeup—way too thick, but hey she is a cheerleader—is running. This is not a pleasing site.

I quickly leave and come back with a rubber head mask. She is out of control crying. I grab her hair and pull the mask over it, ending with a medium size ball gag so I don’t have to listen to her insipid whining.

“Alright, let’s try this again. Spread your cheeks—wide. Give me any more trouble and you won’t be leaving this apartment.”

“Fuck her slave. Fuck her for me.”

He starts at her again. This time he really is sans pitié. I hand him her leash. He pulls it tight so she almost chokes while he continues to fuck her hard. I can hear her gasping for breath. It turns me on. I hold his leash while I watch his cock go in and out of her, pulling on it now and then just to remind him of whose cock it really is, who owns it.

“Do not stop. I will be back.”

He knows what that means. I return and he feels my hand on his ass, the familiar wetness of the lube. Is this a reward or punishment? Depends on how you do it.

I think punishment is in order. Really he has been a pain in the ass when you think about it, second-guessing me all night long.

I come up behind him and just ram it up his ass.

He pauses.

“Do not stop fucking her, do you hear me?”

Could have taken the rubbery pink dildo, but tonight he deserves this one: the huge “realistic” version.

I ram him a few more times, pulling the leash up between his ass cheeks hard, compressing his balls. I know it hurts. I really don’t care either.

“Are you my bitch?”

Silence.

“Don’t know yet? Well, maybe this will help you recall what you really are: a worthless slut.”

I grab his head and pull the blond wig down onto it. God, I wish I could just stand back and watch this scene, with him fucking her in that wig. That’s hot.

I pull out and move around in front of him.

“Suck it.”

Pause.

“I said suck it bitch.”

Then I just take it and shove it in his mouth.

I pull on the leash and tell him to stop fucking her. She is worthless anyway.

She just falls to the floor like used goods.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like the taste?”

Here, have some water.

I point to the bowl at my feet.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“As if I care. I said drink. And if you don’t start drinking now, you will be drinking something other than water very soon—that is, after you finish the food left over in your mate’s bowl.”

He grabs the bowl in one hand.

“I mean drink like a dog, like what you are. Slurp, in any case just use your tongue.”

I take my foot and push his face into the bowl, holding it there. Imagine drowning in a dog bowl. How ridiculous is that?

I release him. He starts to lick it up. This is a truly beautiful site. I move back, just stand back and watch him, how his tongue moves in and out as he slowly drinks what is in the bowl because I command it.

“Good boy.”

That deserves a reward.

I pull him by the leash over to me, and sit on the couch. I spread my legs wide.

“You know what to do.”

Indeed he does.