Not Like Other Men Pt. 04

This is a five-part series of stories dealing with my infatuation with a powerful man and how I fall under his spell and become his submissive. Each part will stand alone as an erotic adventure but for continuity it is suggested that you read them in numerical order.

I know that readers like to visualise the characters they read about and describing myself becomes repetitive in a series so let me describe myself here. I am 5' 7" tall and weigh 140lbs, yes a little more than I would like. I have full breasts and take a 36D cup bra. I have blonde, spiky hair that sometimes has darker streaks in it and blue eyes. Oh and also I wear glasses.

Love

Jayne

My 'affair' with Lance continued through the summer. We repeated both the undressing and the posing in underwear scenarios and each time he watched me masturbate but he never touched me. In fact he never even kissed me let alone made love or, as he would undoubtedly have termed it, fucked me. I couldn't get my head around why that was but didn't feel that it was my place to question him about it nor, of course, about our whole relationship, well actually, our two relationships, which I termed as 'at work' and 'at play.'

The former was friendly, open, easy, slightly flirty and businesslike. He wasn't smutty or pervy, he treated me with respect and gave no hint of the latter parallel one that was based on sex but did not contain any formal sex. In the 'at play' he was totally different, but then I was too. He became a distant, rather dour, controlling and totally domineering man. As a person he showed me no respect at all although he did to my body, particularly my 36D+ breasts. That's what I felt I was becoming, a pair of big tits with a body attached to it. I wasn't a person, I was an object, a plaything almost a slave and certainly a slut. Not, though, that I minded, it was voluntary and I was an avid participant. My role was to be his submissive, totally and utterly. I acquiesced to him completely. There was nothing contrived about it. I was as willing, eager really to be his submissive as he was to be my master.

I never knew when we were going to have a scenario. He announced it out of the blue and I was expected to comply. He didn't take into consideration whether I had other arrangements or how it fitted in with my personal life but in the end that didn't really matter as I was happy to cancel or change almost anything. Although neither of us verbally expressed our pleasure or excitement at this unorthodox relationship we demonstrated them in our enthusiastic participation.

*

Gradually the content of the scenarios became more extreme and intense. I didn't question that and went along with how he was developing the experiences.

Twice, as it was gettinger dark we went for walks in Regent's Park. Each time I was not wearing underwear. Both times he flashed me by lifting my skirt as we walked along slightly away from other people but close enough that they were able, if they looked to see my legs and maybe my arse. He undid the buttons on the top of the dress and pulled it away from my breasts so that my nipples were on show.

As an example of the depth, or height depending on your viewpoint, of our relationship, another time time I wore just a Burberry raincoat and heels. We met at his house in Regent's Park around six and as often happened he told me to strip down to my panties and tights.

"Put this on," he said, throwing a Burberry trench coat at me. It smelt and looked new. "Now take your knickers and tights off."

We walked through the park, across Marylebone Road and down Great Portland Street. We didn't pass that many people until we got near to where I had an awful fear he was taking me The White House Hotel.

"No Lance we can't go in there," I gasped.

"We can and we are," he replied, gripping my arm.

I knew that we would so there was no point in arguing or trying to get out of it so I spent nearly an hour sitting in the bar naked under the coat.

He called his chauffeur who collected us and dropped him off at his house.

"Stay here I'll get them," he said to me. A few minutes later he gave me my clothes.

"Er what about this?" I asked, indicating the coat.

"Keep it, it's yours," he replied, amazing me as a new Burberry costs the best part of fifteen-hundred pounds.

As Harry drove away from the house I thought to myself. 'Hmmm becoming a whore now as well as a slut.'

My daughter was staying with me and I guessed she would be home so I knew I couldn't walk in the house carrying my clothes so I had to struggle them on without Harry seeing hopefully. My skirt and knickers were quite easy and I didn't bother about my bra but I took big chances putting my blouse on as obviously I had to take the coat off and bare my upper body possibly both to Harry and anyone looking in before getting the Burberry back on again.

As I said goodnight to Harry he smiled and it looked very much the smile of a confidante!

As well as rougher, or more deviant or, as some might call it, kinky practices our sex also became a little more experimental with a touch of BDSM and D/s role playing as well. He would smack my breasts or pussy quite hard and I enjoyed it. He pulled my hair and I enjoyed that too. Just whether it was the pain I endured or the humiliation and abuse that I experienced or the fact I was giving him pleasure I wasn't sure.

One evening just after I arrived at his house he said.

"Go into the bedroom, undress to your knickers and lay on the bed on your front."

As he said that he hardly looked up from his laptop and gave me no further greeting, not even the perfunctory kiss he had been giving me recently.

Naturally I did as he said.

"Put this on," he told me, giving me a blindfold and leaving the room.

I did as he said and laid on my front on the bed waiting for him to return and give me further instructions. I wasn't that surprised when he took ages to return as it let me get used to the sensory deprivation caused by the blindfold. Then, after what could have been twenty minutes I heard him come back in.

Then I felt something cold on my wrist. He pulled that above my head and I heard a click as he clearly handcuffed me to the bed.

"What the hell?" I grunted as he took my other wrist and repeated the action.

"Be quiet Jane, you'll love this."

My ex and I had messed around with tying up a few times, but had usually used my panties or tights, not bloody handcuffs. I had found being restrained quite exciting as he did, but we didn't get too far into it. This, however, was a completely different ball game, for in addition to being manacled I was also sight deprived. I had never had that before and surprisingly, it aroused me.

"Kneel for me," he told me.

I did.

"Keep your face on your hands."

I did.

He began to massage my shoulders in slow, sensuous movements. His hands were surprisingly soft and his touch remarkably gentle, almost like a woman's I recalled from some previous spa massages and one from a woman I became overly friendly with.

This was one of a number of things that I particularly enjoyed with Lance. He has this way of introducing complementary aspects and differences into our sex. Aggressiveness and gentleness, sordidness and decorum and romance with raw sex. The combination of being handcuffed and blindfolded with a languid, sensual, caressing type of massage was a classic example. As were the words he used.

"Your tits look fantastic like that, you sexy, dirty bitch," he said pulling my panties down to mid-thigh but not removing them.

With one hand he gently massaged my back and with the other he pinched my nipples hard making me gasp with the sudden pain. His hands slowly moved down my arms, pausing to touch my breasts softly before cupping them and then, after removing his hand slapping them, again making me jump and gasp with the sharp pain. He moved on to my hands that he massaged not missing a finger.

Maybe wrongly, but I was sinking into a deeply relaxed state as he turned his attention to my back and buttocks. I didn't object or try to wriggle away when he massaged between my cheeks passing right across my anus.

The massage kept moving downwards; along my thighs, past my knees, onto my calf muscles and then my feet. He massaged the soles of each one and then I felt his tongue licking them I'd not had that done to me before nor had anyone ever sucked my toes, one by one and then all five on each foot at the same time.

"Hold this," he said, passing me something that was fairly heavy and cold. "Warm it up."

I held it in my hand pressed against the bed as he rubbed warm oil into my buttocks, thighs, calf muscles and feet. It was lovely. Then his hands were between my legs and he started to stroke my sex. My first impulse was to push back against his hand and open my legs more to give him greater access. I guessed, though, that if I did he would only push me down again so I stayed as I was and revelled in his fingers applying slow, sensual and so fucking sexy strokes to my labia.

My skin tingled when he leaned forward and hovered his body over mine, kissing softly the back of my shoulders. He took the mysterious object from my hands and I felt more oil being dripped onto my back. His magic hands continued their seduction of my skin; I could have purred.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Mmmmm blissfully so," I sighed.

"You need to pull your knees more under you, but keep your head on the bed.

I did as he told me, aware that my bum was very much on display. I felt totally exposed and vulnerable. In addition to the pleasantly erotic sensation of the sight deprivation, I was pleased that I was blindfold for, in a way it gave me a degree of anonymity although I knew full well he could see everything; a female's tortuous logic perhaps!

He covered my back in light kisses and soft licks, gradually moving further down my back. Then, my insides somersaulted when he ran his tongue from the back of my neck all the way down to my clit in one long lick. That was sensational.

He whispered. "Jay, I need you to stay relaxed and not overthink what I am going to do. In a moment I am going to prepare you for the fuck of your dreams, but you must trust me. Ok?"

He said that with that sexy as fuck voice that continually mesmerised me. He could have been saying anything to me and I would have gone along with it. With one hand under me cupping and squeezing my breasts and nipples rather hard, he gripped the slight excess of flesh on my hip with the other. His fingernails dug welcomingly painfully into it, reminding me to work harder at the gym. He licked and kissed from the bottom of my spine to my clit that he sucked into his mouth.

"You are fucking beautiful down here Cat, you have a gorgeous cunt and arsehole."

"Mmmmm," I sighed, probably too far gone to put a full sentence together.

He muttered. "Don't move." Then his mouth was on me. His fingers parted my folds for his tongue to inflict the maximum devastation on my self-control. Licks, kisses and flicks of his tongue all over my pussy and clit quickly had me panting and wanting to plead with him to put me out of my misery and fuck me. But I didn't. I was becoming a junky for his continual torment, but was both pleased and relieved when I felt his fingers sliding up me. I writhed against them in an effort to wring every last bit of pleasure from the penetration. Somehow, he managed to get his tongue on my clit at the same time and that made me feel as if I would cum, and heavily.

Just when my release was imminent, he stopped and removed his fingers. I thought I might explode with frustration until I felt his finger pressing on my anus gently probing it. It went in quite easily, probably up to the knuckle. Then so fucking frustratingly he removed that too. I almost screamed with the loss of that degree of pleasure. Then I felt warm oil being drizzled on to my lower back and gained a lovely sensation as it ran down between my bum cheeks. He rubbed me there including on and just inside the hole.

The pressure on my bottom returned, but it was different and increasing. At the same time, his fingers slipped back inside my pussy and began pumping slowly up and down. That, together with the increasing pressure on my anus created a feeling of sublime fullness that was accompanied by an inexplicable expectation, but I had no idea of what.

The pressure against my vaginal wall was increasing from both sides, but for a moment or two I could not work out how or why. Then it hit me. He was penetrating my anus with either a dildo of some form or a butt plug. Then, of course I realised that was what he had asked me to warm up; it was a butt plug that he made me keep in all evening.

*

There were other additions to our repertoire that increased both the excitement when together and the anticipation when apart. Clearly, he wanted to develop what we did and he was becoming more demanding of me. That was fine by me. Since my divorce my sexual appetite had changed. Equally, to an extent through using a chat room, my curiosity had also increased. Whereas during most of my sexual life I would have rejected pretty much anything considered as kinky recently I had begun to embrace the more outlandish aspects of sex and sexuality. Hence, how easily I had taken to being a submissive.

In addition, though, a woman I knew from the tennis club, also a divorcee, and I became close. Maybe too close because one night after having dinner at a local Indian restaurant I went back to her flat and we ended up in bed.

"We'll give you a lift home I am going your way for dinner with a client," he told me one afternoon.

As we pulled out of the car park next to the agency, he put the window between the driver and us up and said.

"Roll your skirt up."

I pulled it up so that I was almost but not quite showing my knickers.

"No Jay I said roll it up not just pull it up."

"What do you mean?"

"Roll it up round your waist."

"Someone might see from the road."

"Jay the car has one way windows, nobody can see in."

"Oh I see," I replied not having realised that despite having been in it several times. I whispered and nodded at the driver. "What about Harry?"

"That's one way too."

I was wearing tights so even with the thin, patterned skirt bunched round my waist if anyone could look in they wouldn't see much.

"Now take your tights off," he said rather worryingly loud as Harry might hear, but I didn't dare tell him to speak quieter.

Although I had got fairly used to undressing for him and flaunting my body at him this was the first time he had introduced another party other than strangers like at the pub when I took my knickers off and showed him my tits. Harry occasionally drove me home and I would often see him around the agency so undressing in the back of the car he was driving was quite a diversion. Even if he couldn't see what was happening he must have known something was going on because of the window but then, I rationalised, he might be used to it as I couldn't believe I was Lance's first.

Lifting myself from the black leather seat I struggled my tights down and after removing my shoes picked them and put them in my bag asking Lance.

"Ok?" as I did that.

"Yes you won't be needing those again," he grunted, moving from the rear seat next to me to the jump seat facing me.

"Now get your tits out."

I hesitated.

"Come on don't fuck about," he said switching on a dim light. "I haven't see them for a time."

As instructured, I didn't fuck about. I slid the straps of the top off my shoulders, undid a couple of buttons, pushed the top down and scooped my boobs out my bra. I knew he liked seeing me do that.

"Mmmmm lovely and look what it has done to these," he said leaning forward and pinching one of my hardened nipples.

Recently he had taken to doing things like that although he still hadn't fucked me which I couldn't quite fathom.

"Ok now the bottom."

"What about it?"

"Take your knickers off."

As I started doing as I was told by lifting myself up off the seat I noticed that we were in heavy traffic and it was stop and start along a street where there were loads of people on the pavements. Most were looking straight ahead but some glanced at the car window.

"Lay back and hold your tits," he ordered.

My bottom was on the edge of the seat so I was almost lying down flat.

"Open your legs and play with yourself."

With one hand I rubbed myself through my panties at first but then inside them and with the other I squeezed my tits. As usual I got very turned on by flaunting myself at him but this time there was the added buzz of doing it as I could see people but they couldn't see me. A little bit of me wished they could.

"Take them off, let me see your cunt," he said leaning forward, grabbing the waist of my panties and pulling on them, but of course with my legs as wide open as they could be they got stuck just below my hips.

"Hold on Lance," I said, starting to close my legs.

"Stay still," he growled pulling on the waist with one hand and pushing a fingernail on the other through the lace and then with one strong tug he tore them down the side.

I had never had my panties ripped before and it was quite a thrill. He peeled the torn sides of them away from me leaving them clinging to one leg but baring my pussy. Between us we fiddled them down my leg and onto the floor by his feet.

Then, as the car moved sedately out of London and into Essex I fingered myself to a lovely orgasm.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked him as we neared my home just as I finished dressing.

"No, I have business to attend to and your little sluttish show has got me in the perfect mood for it.

"Ok some other time," I mumbled opening the car door.

I hadn't expected he would come in but I would have liked him to so I could be home turf as it were for more and more recently I wanted him to have some form of sex other than visual with me.

"See you tomorrow Jayne," he said, getting out the other side and moving to sit in the front with Harry who looked at me impassively as I shut the door behind me.

"Oh sod," I whispered, looking at Lance and turning back to the car. "I've left my knickers in there."

"Leave them, it doesn't matter," he said as I gripped the door handle and looked in through the window to see the torn panties on the floor.

*

Our relationship was taking on yet another element, talking. Both about the relationship and our feelings. He would now ask about other aspects of my life and my sexual experiences and we would chat about my feelings as he humiliated or demeaned me and certainly as he controlled and directed me. Often lying naked on his bed I would try, pretty unsuccessfully usually as I got tongue tied in sexual situations with him, to explain what I got from our experiences and as to why I was involved in them. I couldn't understand them myself, let alone explain them to him.

"So other than us what other kinks and fantasies do you have Jayne?" he asked me one evening as I lay on his bed naked after masturbaring for him. "What's your main fantasy?"

I thought for a moment and then told him.

"I went on a hen do a few years ago to Copenhagen and we all went to a sex club and saw people having sex."

"What a swinger's club?"

"No a proper club."

"So who had sex the audience?"

"No, no, it was like a theatre in the round, there must have been a hundred or so, all very respectable, lots of couples and women and not mainly guys as lap dancing clubs are in London."

"Why have you been?"

"Yes a couple of times."

"Enjoy it?"

"No not much."

"So, what happened?"

"There was a bed in the middle of the small floor and people had sex on it."

"Which people? From the audience?"