Mr Taylor's Tribulations Ch. 05

I bent over and my wife eased the five-inch anal intruder into my arsehole, then adjusted the double rubber straps from the front and rear of the dildo up my body to the slave collar around my throat. The D-rings the rubber straps hooked onto pulled the thick intruder deep into my back passage and provided stimulation to my sphincter muscle, thus making my uncut cock rise to its full, eight-inches of erection.

She then placed a large, red rubber cape over my head and let the cool material fondle my flesh as it fell to cover my nudity. The hem of the cape came to just below my knees, the neck had a sort of ruff which hid the leather slave collar around my throat.

"There, Rupert," she smiled, regarding my ridiculous appearance, "that's your travelling uniform. Every time I take you out and loan you to one of my girlfriends, this is what you will wear. It will remind you on the journey there, that you are my sex slave and always available to be lent to my friends for them to slake their sadistic sexual appetites."

Turning of her expensively-shod heel, she led the way to our garage which, thank goodness, is at the rear of the house and accessible by a little walkway from the rear door and thus secure from any of the prying eyes of our next door neighbour's. Not that Tanya, my lovely, large-busted 38-year-old wife, gave a damn about that, I'm sure.

It was a Monday morning, exactly a week since my humiliations at the "passing out parade" where Tanya, her younger sister, Vanya, my wife's best friend Paula, and her golfing partner, Jan Frobisher, had heaped punishment upon punishment on me. At the conclusion, Tanya had smugly announced herself "pleased" that I was now a fully-graduated sex slave.

A day or two later, Mrs Frobisher – a tall, long-legged fair-haired beauty who I really fancied – rang Tanya to ask if she could "borrow" me the following Monday for a day of "sexual entertainment".

Tanya had agreed, and as usual made me call my bookstore manager Naomi to make sure the lovely young black girl could take charge. It was a chore Naomi enjoyed, since she was more than capable, I paid her a handsome bonus for running the shop in my absence, and she was now becoming almost used to being asked to run the place for me on Mondays.

I settled down in the lush leather seat of my wife's new Jaguar, feeling the cold rubber tingle against my buttocks, but then realising it would soon be warm and slippery as my body heat transferred to the rubber.

As it was just 9 o'clock, there was still a lot of commuter traffic as Tanya drove to Mrs Frobisher's lovely new home – the proceeds of an extremely generous will from her husband, an airline pilot who had died almost two years before in a freak accident involving a golf cart and his mistress in Los Angeles, where he often "stopped over" during his long-haul runs from London to LA and places south, such as Honolulu and Sydney.

As I said, it was a busy drive and many commuters were still on the road. At one set of traffic lights, a car driven by a stunningly attractive young blonde drew up on the inside of my wife's Jaguar. The blue-eyed beauty looked at the upper part of my rubber "travelling uniform", nudged her passenger, an older male, and they burst into laughter. My face turned red, but then the lights changed and my wife drove ahead, the blonde, thankfully, made a left turn and was gone.

At another red light, a large delivery truck drew up on the inside lane. The driver, a bearded hulk, peered down, laughed and blew me a kiss. I wanted the seat to swallow me up!

At last we arrived at Jan Frobisher's lovely new home, set on the outskirts of Virginia Water, and not more than a couple of Tiger Woods' drives from the Wentworth course where she and my wife often found themselves partnered in their weekly Wednesday foursome.

Tanya drove into the large, leafy driveway and climbed from the car, then opened the door and allowed me to sprint across the gravel drive – not an easy task in my bare feet – to the side door of the house, which was discreetly opened a foot or so by Mrs Frobisher.

I stepped into the modern home and looked at the tall woman. She was already dressed for domination! Her small but beautifully-formed breasts were circled by an arrangement of leather straps. The 32-inch beauties were firmly held in the clasp of the straps, the nipples pointing erectly at me as if she say "Hello!"

On her hips was a similarly erotic leather arrangement of straps, which left her shaved pussy naked to my gaze, the only hair left down there a fair, fuzzy little splotch on her mons. On Mrs Frobisher's feet were a pair of classic-styled Manolo Blahnik metal-heeled pumps, the heels, coloured gold in rich contrast to the gleaming black leather, almost demanded worship.

But my thoughts were then dragged from Mrs Frobisher's steel-heeled stilettos to my present predicament by my wife's stern voice.

"Right, Jan, here he is, all ready to perform at your beck and call. He's your slave for the day," she said, pushing me on my buttocks towards the pert-breasted beauty.

"I'm sure you'll have no problems with him, seeing as how he's now a fully-fledged sex slave, but if anything crops up, I'll be on my mobile."

Then she turned to me. "OK Rupert," she said, "while you're under her roof, Mrs Frobisher is 'Mistress' and her command is law, understand?"

I nodded and answered in my meek "slave" voice: "Yes, darling."

Tanya turned to head for the door. "I'm off to town, an old school friend's treating me to lunch in some impossibly expensive French restaurant in Chelsea," she told her golf partner. "What is it they say in restaurants – enjoy!" And with a laugh she was out of the door, the Jaguar's throaty engine roared into life and Jan Frobisher closed the door and walked towards me.

"Hello, you adorable slave, you," she said, stepping up against me and rubbing her body sexily against my rubber cape. "Hello, what's this?" she inquired, her hand running across the crotch region to feel my hardness beneath. "What did Mae West say – 'Is this a gun, officer, or are you just pleased to see me?' Well, Rupert, are you pleased to see me?"

I swallowed and then answered, with utter honesty: "Very, very pleased, mistress. You know I love you."

Mrs Frobisher smiled and kissed me hard on the mouth: "And you want to be dominated my me, you want to worship me, be punished my me, drink my urine, fuck me, don't you? Tell me, say it!"

Her words were said in a hush, but they were almost harsh in their delivery. "I want you to dominate me," I said. It was true.

"I want to worship you," I said. It was true.

"I want you to punish me," I said. It was true.

"I want to drink your urine," I said. It was true.

"I want to fuck you," I said, "but I can't." Both statements were true.

"You can't fuck me?" demanded Mrs Frobisher, her lovely eyebrows arched in question marks, "or won't? Explain."

I gulped, then explained my predicament. "My darling wife doesn't let me have cock-in-cunt sex any more," I said. "It's part of my punishment, you see. I can only bring her to orgasm by letting her slide her pussy up and down on my shaft, or by oral adoration. A fuck is not permitted, mistress."

"But I'm in charge," snapped Mrs Frobisher, her face starting to assume a darkness. "I'm the mistress, I want you inside me." Then she snapped the release of my rubber cape at my neck and the garment fell to the floor, revealing my hard-on.

Mrs Frobisher took me in her hand. "And he wants to be inside me, doesn't he?"

There was no denying that, of course. "Yes, yes, he does, my darling mistress," I said, in a voice that now verged on the pleading. "But I'm forbidden cock-in-cunt sex, it's a taboo for me now, please, don't force me."

Mrs Frobisher's response was to squat down before me and take my cock helmet in her mouth. She sucked on it, slurping down my pre-cum, which had been gathering at the tip of my erection ever since I laid eyes on her lovely, leg-legged, lissom body.

"You want to fuck me, don't you, Rupert?" she said, standing now, and then kissing my hungrily on the mouth. "I'm your mistress, you must obey me!"

I pleaded with her, and I decided that since I was pleading, the best position for it would be on my knees. I lowered myself, then placed my cheek on the highly-polished wooden floor, thus allowing myself to be able to run by tongue over the gleaming golden heel of her Manolo Blahnik's.

"Get up to my pussy," I heard her hiss from above me, and I knelt until my face was directly opposite her beautiful box. She widened her stance, and I could see her slender sex lips, the labia glistening with juice. I wanted to put my cock there and thrust it deep into her vagina. We both knew that.

"That's what you want, you want my pussy, don't you, Rupert?" she said, her voice less harsh now, more gentle, more loving.

I gulped back a sob and pressed my mouth against her mons, then licked her labia lips, flicking against her clitoris on the way down there. Her pussy was powerfully aromatic, it was saying "Fuck me, fuck me!" As I tasted her sweet juices I felt my cock pounding, my hard-on pleading with my brain.

"Oh fuck, you know I want you, you wonderful mistress," I sobbed, pulling from her streaming, steaming snatch, "but please don't make me, I beg you."

Mrs Frobisher leaned over me, grabbed my head and pulled it into her crotch once more. "Lick me, tell me you want me!"

I obeyed. I wanted to lick her, I wanted to tell her I wanted her, but I knew she was forbidden fruit.

"Please, mistress," I said, in a voice that was down to a whisper, "please don't make me fuck you like that. I'm mad about you, but it would be disobeying my main mistress, my darling wife. It was my cock which got me into this position, it was fucking a prostitute which saw me become a sex slave. I'm denied cock-in-cunt sex, please don't force me, please."

And I slumped away from her and looked up at her pretty face, her lovely leather-clad figure, her pussy, her breasts and I wanted her. My cock, at its full eight-inch extension also wanted her, but she didn't need to be told that!

"Right, your 'main mistress', as you call her, says 'no' and you are obeying her. So, we'll call the 'Ubermistress', see what she has to say," said Mrs Frobisher. "Come on upstairs – but stay on your knees – and kiss my arse all the way up there," she snapped.

And she turned on her heel and walked to the foot of the stairs. I struggled behind her on my knees, my mouth pressing against her lovely firm buttocks as often as I could in my awkward efforts to keep up.

Upstairs, Mrs Frobisher entered her bedroom, climbed onto the bed, still in her high heels, spread her thighs wide, pointed to her pussy in a wordless command which silently said "Eat me!" and picked up a phone on her bedside table.

She punched in a coded number, which obviously dialled Tanya's mobile. "Hi, darl, it's Jan," she announced. "We seem to have encountered a little problem and I need your assistance. Can you talk?"

From between her thighs, as I worked at her magnificent minge, I heard my mistress-for-the-day's side of her conversation with my wife.

"It seems that my command for your darling sex slave to give me a good fucking has fallen on somewhat infertile ground," said Mrs Frobisher. "It appears you no longer permit him what he quaintly refers to as 'cock-in-cunt' sex and that to accede to my demands would be disobeying the command of his supreme, Ubermistress."

Then she chuckled. "Ubermistress? Yes, it's got a certain ring to it, hasn't it?"

I still laved away at her lovely, gushing snatch, and there was a longer pause. Then Mrs Frobisher tapped me on the head with one elegantly-manicured finger and ordered: "Phone, slut, your Ubermistress wants a word with you."

I detached from Mrs Frobisher's sweet-smelling snatch and took the phone, my hard-on rubbing against her slender but athletic thigh as I rose.

My wife was still obviously on her way to her luncheon engagement, I could hear traffic noise in the background. "Right, Rupert," she said, in a calm, controlled voice, "listen and listen good. You have my permission to put your filthy little prick of yours in Mrs Frobisher's cunt, though quite why she wants it there in the first place has me totally nonplussed."

There was a pause, then, just to "rub it in", my wife added: "Or in the second place. But if she wants it, she will get it, she is, after all, your mistress in my absence. Right, you have my permission to make love to her in that manner."

Another pause. "But mark my words, Rupert," said my wife, in a suddenly steely voice, "if you don't give her the orgasm of her life, I'll thrash you 12 times a day for a month! Gottit?"

I mumbled "Yes, mistress" but my heart was soaring as I passed the phone back to Mrs Frobisher.

With an enthusiastic, "I love you, you wonderfully dominant woman!" Mrs Frobisher concluded her conversation with my wife and rang off.

She opened her arms and we embraced. "Now, you sweet old slave," she whispered, "fuck me!"

And for the first time since my wife had caught me playing with the blonde hooker, I enjoyed penetrative sex with a woman.

My penis caressed Mrs Frobisher's cunt lips, then slid smoothly into her soft-as-velvet vagina, moving firmly forward until my eight inches were fully embedded in her, our pubic mounds brushing.

"You're so fucking smooth, so tight," I whispered, as I felt the slippery confines of her vagina grip my cock head and drag my foreskin back to the ring as I moved into her.

"Now back down to the entrance, then thrust up me again, you beautifully-pricked slave, you," she whispered, and soon I was in a delightful thrusting tempo, revelling in her tight little cunt, her firm breasts rubbing against my upper torso, her legs wrapped around me, her lips kissing me poutily on the mouth as we made love.

"You're so thick, so smooth," she whispered, in between feverish little kisses on my mouth, "you're the first cock I've had there since my husband, the cheating bastard, went and died. Oh darling, fuck me!"

And my mistress-for-the-day turned into a lovely, thrashing, writhing sex toy as we banged against each other. Soon it was obvious that the lovely 36-year-old was on the verge of a big orgasm, so I slithered around until I was beneath her bucking body and I lifted her by the shoulders, allowing her breasts to fall to my mouth.

I began to suck and lick them and before very long her body tightened and she screamed "Fuck me, Rupey, fuck me, I'm fucking coming, I'm coming, I'm cuuuuming" and she went rigid as the Big O surfed through her tidy, long-legged body.

Then, as quickly as she had come, she rolled from me and bent to plant a sucking, open-mouth kiss on my "circumcised" foreskin, before allowing me to adjust it until it was again covering my cockhead.

We both lay back, panting from our exertions, then with a kiss on my mouth, Mrs Frobisher smiled at me: "And was that good – I know you didn't come, but was it good?"

"It was sensational," I said, "I think you've got a really great, fuckable body." And I kissed her on the mouth.

"I've got an idea," she said, stroking my still-stiff manhood. "I'm thinking of getting out of this country. The weather in winter is miserable, and it's not much better in summer.

"I'm looking into the possibility of buying a place in Provence, or possibly Tuscany. The weather in both places in wonderful, hot dry, summer as it should be, not as it is here.

"Why don't we run away there together. We can lie around the pool all day in summer and get brown as berries. Make love when we feel like it and play femdom games in the evening, and all winter we can play by a huge log fire while I flog you and make you drink my urine. What do you say?"

It was, undeniably, a hugely attractive offer. Mrs Frobisher was a fantastic fuck, a lovely, gorgeous domme, and now my nature had changed to that of a humble submissive, she was the sort of woman any male sex slave would die for – in a manner of speaking!

There were, however, several drawbacks. I had a well-established business in a bookstore which catered for my now specialist kink – femdom. Well, notentirely femdom, of course, since maledom was also a large slice of my business, but femdom is one of the world's major kinks. I didn't want to leave the store, it was a terrific hobby for a male sex slave.

Then there was my lovely wife, her equally lovely younger sister, and the extremely attractive Paula Pain, all of whom delighted in causing me exquisite agonies at their femdom sessions. I was living, in reality, in a sex slave's paradise.

"Mrs Frobisher – sorry, mistress," I said, "I hope you don't mind, but I am truly happy with my wife now. I have found, I think, the perfect situation for a person who, all along, I reckon, must have had a thick streak of masochism running through him.

"I love your body, I love the way you dominate me, I love the way you let me fuck you. But I don't think I'll be running away with you. Sorry."

To my surprise, Mrs Frobisher made no attempt to dissuade me, but suggested we have a quick bite of lunch, then there would be time for more domination games, more sex.

After lunch, Mrs Frobisher placed a leather saddle across my back, a saddle which had jutting up from its middle, a large, brown rubber dildo, approximately the length and width of my eight-inches. Placing her feet in the stirrups, and holding a riding crop in her hand, she forced me to ride her around the large lounge area, on a lush carpet, which helped reduce roughness on my feet and knees as I crawled around with her on my back.

During the course of her "ride", Mrs Frobisher enjoyed three orgasms, two major and one minor. Then there was time for some water sports, before she again allowed me to mount her for a frenzied, passionate bout of love-making. Again I was careful to give her an orgasm, and careful not to ejaculate myself.

Finally, the afternoon drew to a close with a short but intense flagellation session, where the 36-year-old whipped my back and buttocks with a short little leather lash – short, yes, little, yes, but cruel, most certainly.

The phone rang just after 5 o'clock. My wife said she had returned home and was "getting things prepared", as Mrs Frobisher relayed the words to me. What that meant, I had no idea.

Tanya's golfing partner then clothed me in the humiliating red rubber cape once more, and when my wife arrived, I was made to wait in the Jaguar, while she had Mrs Frobisher had what my wife referred to as "a debriefing".

On her return to the car, Tanya grinned at me, leaned over and gave me a surprisingly warm kiss on the mouth. "Have fun?" she asked, and then backed the Jag out of Mrs Frobisher's driveway.

When we arrived home it was getting on for dusk, thank goodness, and I made my way unobtrusively into the house.

My wife, clad in a power outfit of black leather jeans, high-heeled boots, a crisp white linen blouse which displayed her beautiful large mounds of breast, a jaunty little black Muir cap and leather gloves, led me upstairs, her beautiful rump wiggling in the tight confines of the gleaming leather.

When we entered the bedoom, I immediately saw what "getting things prepared" meant. Even so I still shocked by the sight that greeted me. There, strapped down over a large leather bench was the woman who had been the instrument which had led to my sexual slavery.

"Naughty Natalie" was naked but for a pair of garish, red leather wedge-heeled shoes. The young blonde's buttocks were like lovely rounded moons, her pussy was a pink gash, her anus dark brown and puckered.

"This is the young lady who got you into all this trouble, isn't it, Rupert?" said Tanya.

"Yes," I mumbled, my penis rising to erection beneath the rubber cape.