The Summerhouse Ch. 16: Stephen

He roared with agony as the paddle landed sharply against his exposed scarlet rump and his caterwauling echoed around the underground dungeon. "Yellow. Amber. Yellow. Yellow," he cried. "Too much," he screeched, and Clare gave a wry grin at me.

She allowed him a few moments to calm, and then the naked woman pressed her body against his. She whispered in his ear and dug her nails into his abused flesh. He gasped, and she reached above him to untie his wrists.

"Sit," she demanded and pointed to a swivel office chair in the corner of the room. His cock bobbed as he sat on the black leather seat, and Clare took a couple of items from the shelf that ran the length of the wall. She smiled at me, as she pulled his wrists together behind his back, and then clipped his ankle cuffs together, behind the support column.

Her wicked smile disappeared from his sight as she slipped a blindfold over his thick hair and covered his eyes. Lubricant drizzled over his cock, and Clare pulled a chair alongside him.

Slowly, she massaged his dick. "Nice," she muttered. "I bet you're horny. Can you feel your raw, tender buttocks against the cool leather?" She asked and ran her hands over his exposed nipples. He groaned, and his cock bobbed his semi-erect prick.

Long strokes of veiny, weighty cock, interspersed with her hands rolling over his head, had it stiff in a few seconds. He grunted and groaned and she got up and straddled him, sliding onto his cock.

He sighed as her luscious, warm cunt gripped his prick, and it slipped inside her. He squirmed and squealed as he did. Clare wrapped her arms around his back and pressed her bosom against his chest. "Can you feel that?" She asked and ground her body against his. "Feel good?"

"Yeah." He whimpered. "Very."

"And I bet you want me to go really, really, really fast?"

"Yeah."

Clare stopped and then rocked quickly for a couple of thrusts and stopped once more. Kevin held his breath and then sharply exhaled. He groaned, cried, mewed and sighed. A thousand emotions and sensations overloaded his brain as Clare slipped off of him and she slid down his body.

The first lick of his prick felt wonderful. The second was overwhelming. He squealed, mewling loudly as my fiancée's tongue rolled over his straining dick. "You want it?" She whispered to him. "Really want it?"

"Yeah."

"How bad?"

"Lots."

"Have to earn a release," she warned him and softly suckled on his prick. He groaned and fidgeted as she gently took him closer and closer to his orgasm.

And then she stopped, just as he reached his edge.

She did it again, by stroking his meaty, thick cock with long, powerful strokes before abandoning him as he neared his point of no return.

"Are you going to beg?" She asked, and he nodded through desperate pants. She squeezed and twisted his nipples. "Then don't."

Twelve times she brought his body to the brink of a climax before stopping. He whimpered, squealed, begged, moaned and puled on a dozen occasions, as my fiancée led him to the promised land, but wouldn't let him through the gates.

His loins frenzied and aching. He was a horny mess of lustful desperation and crazed arousal. He struggled against his bindings and wriggled against his pained arse. He wanted, needed and craved an orgasm, but Clare backed off and spun him in the chair.

"Have you ever had a golden shower?" She asked and sat on his lap. His erect cock nestled in her buttcheeks and she kissed him on the lips as liquid splashed against his pubic hair.

My fiancée pissed on him. She emptied her bladder over his straining dick as she passionately snogged her submissive date.

"You dirty, filthy, disgusting piece of shit," she cried as she broke from the kiss and slapped him on the cheek. "Stinking off pee. You disgust me!"

She stood up from him; her piss draining onto the floor and rolling into the drain. Two seconds later, and she had unclipped his wrists and ankles and Clare tugged at the back of his neck.

Clare sat down, legs akimbo, and pulled Kevin into her cunt. His blindfolded face landed against her crotch and she slid her right leg over his back.

He knew what to do. It was one of my favourite things to do to Clare, and his tongue lapped at her slit with gusto. With rampant zeal and enthusiasm, he ate her cunt and swirled her clit with his mouth.

Clare leant back in her chair and closed her eyes. She loved having a man submissively feast on her crotch. She adored a guy lusciously sucking and enjoying her smooth lips and swirling his tongue around her sensitive clit.

Clare idly and instinctively rubbed her breasts and tugged at her mons to direct him. But he was good. She panted, and her legs quivered, before the first orgasm smashed into her.

Waves of pleasure cascaded across her body, and she squealed as her submissive partner sent ecstasy cascading through her lust, leaving her a squealing, panting and satisfied mess.

Not once, but three times.

My cock was rock hard, and Clare looked up at me with a wide grin. I knew instantly what she was going to do, and as her third orgasm had subsided, she detached Kevin's mouth from her clit, and led him to a bench. Restraints held his legs high, and she ran gloved and lubricated fingers against his butt hole.

Kevin spasmed. He tensed and she gently soothed him. "Relax. This is nice. I'll be gentle. Relax."

Her left palm danced over his skin as the middle finger on his right hand slid inside of him. One finger became two and then three. His cock sparked and spasmed. His breathing became shallow and his moans became louder. "You OK?" She checked in with him and he nodded.

The small butt-plug slipped in easily. She passed him the bulb attached to it and told him to squeeze. A shot of air filled the inflatable plug and his body jerked. "And again!"

He did so. She made him wait for a minute and told him to do it again. And again. He was pumping a bigger and bigger object into himself, and every time she ordered him to, he squeezed it.

Her hands roamed over his tingling body. Her nails scratched him and she tweaked his nipples. All while he continued to pump the dildo in his backside. "It's too much," he squealed after twenty pumps. "Too much."

"Really?" Clare asked and selected a small five-inch red dildo from the shelf and slid it into a leather harness. "That's too much. Then try this."

She unfurled a condom over the sex toy and smothered it in lubricant, before striding back to the restrained man. Clare unclipped the value and deflated the sex toy.

He puffed as Clare slowly penetrated him with the dildo. Her hands gripped his ankles and her hips smoothly thrusted the phallus into her date. "This is how subs get fucked in this dungeon. This is how I make men very, very horny," she said. "Do you like this?"

He nodded, panting and snorting as my partner ground her dildo into him. Slowly but firmly, she worked up a natural rhythm, fucking the waiter.

He had never been fucked before. Clare had taken his anal virginity, and she worked up a steady cadence, smashing her small dildo into his most intimate of areas.

Pre-cum leaked from his cock and into his pubic hair, still wet from Clare's piss. He grunted and squealed, his mind struggling to process the pressure on his prostate and pleasurable sensations coming from his butt.

Clare spoke over the slapping of their flesh. "You like this, don't you? You like being fucked in the arse like some cheap whore, don't you? You are just a disgusting, filthy, nasty little slut, aren't you?"

He whimpered and nodded as she rammed her prick harder and harder into his hole. "Yes, Miss."

Clare smiled at me and grabbed his hard dick. She rolled a condom down it as her hips jackhammered into his butt, but he hardly noticed.

Finally, she mounted him. His cock slipped inside her sopping wet pussy and with three or four rocks of her hips, he squealed and filled the condom.

Clare sighed and ran her sharp fingernails over his body. He jerked, and she slipped her hands underneath his blindfold and freed his eyes from their cotton prison. "How was that?"

"Amazing," he panted.

"Good. Then go have a wash and we'll talk about what I am going to let you go home in." She stepped away from him and I showed him to the small toilet and shower at the back of the dungeon. "Put his clothes in a bag and bring his personal effects down," she demanded of me. "And bring me a drink of water; I'm thirsty!"

I returned to the dungeon, and Clare took the water from me. She was in front of the wardrobe, underneath the stairs, and selected two hangers containing clothes. "These are both medium, so they should fit," she said and smiled at the naked waiter shivering in front of her.

I recognised the first outfit she pulled out. I wore the dull black Latex maid dress with its cream coloured apron and black stockings one afternoon at the summerhouse. It was hot and sweaty and deeply humiliating. Kevin gave a sharp intake of breath and shook his head. "I can't wear that. Not in public. That's..."

"Oh, but Latex is wonderful. It's lovely," Clare teased. Her prey shivered as she offered him another one. Short red gym shorts that were an of an obscene length. They replicated the traditional 1970s style of thin, lightweight material in an abbreviated length. The baby pink singlet with a popular porn site logo was short; it wouldn't even reach his belly-button. "How about this one then?"

He gulped. "That's... I live with my mum."

"So?" Clare asked with a grin. "You're an adult. This one comes with an additional couple of requirements," she said, and held out the gym shorts to him. "Your fantasy was being dominated and even told how to dress. You said that when you came down here. You wanted to try pegging and were curious about watersports. You wanted me to cane and paddle you. Your fantasies should not scare you. Don't hide from your sexuality. Now are you walking out of here buck naked, in a maid's outfit or in some slutty gym wear."

He nodded and held out his hand to take the singlet and shorts.

"Wise choice. Because take that and you have to do something for me. Wear that and I will not allow you to wear any male underwear this week. I will check up on you by coming to the pub and if I find you wearing so much as a jockstrap, I will thrash your arse blue. Panties, fine. Commando, fine. Boxers, well out. Understand?"

He nodded and gripped the outfit with his shaking hands.

"Secondly, you will take a small metal butt-plug from me and you will wear that every night for an hour. I want a photo sent to me on WhatsApp of your plugged arse. Understand?"

He gulped and said nothing. She raised her eyebrows at him and he nodded. "Yes, Miss."

"And finally, you come back here on Sunday at 10am. Wearing that outfit. And you are staying until I let you go. I am really going to enjoy corrupting you."

"Yes, Miss," he said a little too eagerly. "Well, go on then," she added, and watched as he donned his flimsy bottom and insubstantial top. She dropped a bottle of water-based lubricant and a small metal butt-plug in his bag and escorted him from the house, wordlessly.

And I had a dungeon to clean.

* * * * *

Victoria kept her promise on her return. Clare took photos of her best friend mucking out the horses naked, and the stable boys watched the young woman strutting around nude, caking her skin in mud and manure.

Kevin played with his plug and Clare showed me the pictures that he sent. My fiancée was keen to boast that she had met his fantasies of female domination, and twice we went to the local pub for a drink so she could slip into the disabled toilet to examine Kevin's underwear situation. Each time he was commando, and Clare was certain to put him in some humiliating attire when he came on Sunday. Our host planned to join in, and the young lad would have two experienced dominant women mercilessly pushing his boundaries and exploring his fantasies.

I met with Bobby and Heather on Sunday. Clare and Victoria wanted Martin and me out of the house when their latest project visited and I wanted a break from the four walls of the summerhouse. Martin visited his friend, and I cycled fifteen miles to see my mate from the sauna to have a picnic at a local beauty spot - at Heather's request.

I brought the beer; they brought the food, and I could see up Heather's short summer dress as I sat on the grass. Bobby smiled at me; he saw my eyes linger at the inside of her thighs and I saw a flash of pink and her unicorn tattoo.

They were genuinely enjoyable company. They both worked hard doing jobs that paid little above the minimum wage, and I felt a little guilty that I earned more than both of them put together without having to leave Martin's timber abode.

After a couple of beers each, bought at a nearby supermarket and carried on my bike, Heather became more relaxed and spoke as Bobby took eight empty beer cans to the nearest bin. "We fucked over there last Wednesday," she admitted. "It was fun, so dirty. We came out for a walk and just started kissing and it just kept happening. Never had sex outside before."

"Do it again?" Heather nodded and grinned at her partner as he sat back down.

"One thing I wanted to ask." She blushed. "We've been doing a lot of talking and I'd quite like Bobby to explore... that side... of his sexuality. If he wanted a night out at Canal Street or such a place, would you go with him? To escort him? He said he could find someone to go with, but I'd rather it was you."

I smiled at Bobby, who bit his lip. "Sure, but that's all the way in Manchester." Bobby's eyes widened as I spoke. "There's a big place near here, but it's a bit raunchy. Go there for a coffee and a sandwich. They have places for men to... explore themselves."

"And you'd go with him?"

"Of course," I replied and barely suppressed a grin. "I am happy to help him in any way."

"Good. 'Cause I want to ask your wife..."

"Fiancée," I corrected her.

"Sorry, fiancée, to do a girls' night out. Her and Virginia were so confident. I would love to have their confidence. I couldn't go all the way with another, but I'd like to flirt a bit. That'll be OK, wouldn't it? A bit of fun."

"Sure, I'll tell her. And Bobby, I have a party most Saturdays during the winter. Always fun, if you fancy it. We always have a good time."

"He's working most Saturdays," Heather moaned and Bobby sighed.

"They always owe me some hours. I could do at least one," he interrupted with a wide grin that his partner could not see. "If you are sure you're OK with it."

"Honey, of course I am," Heather squealed. "If it makes you happy. You just have to promise me you'll be careful and take precautions." I knew what she meant, and Bobby just rolled his eyes.

As I cycled back to the manor, I called in at Scott and Virginia. He hadn't called in to see us recently, and I missed the frisky sexaholic. "Sorry, been busy!" He replied when I said I hadn't seen him. "Had things to do. Well, one thing. Virginia. But I've done her loads." The joyous tone of his voice and candour was always welcome.

I asked how he was, and we made a chat as he reclined in the sofa in just his lounge shorts, and he eyed me in my cycling lycra. Virginia was out running, and Scott's sparkling eyes demanded satisfaction. The glint in his gaze and licking of his lips always came before a demand for sex.

I was not wrong. He pulled his shorts to his knees as I spoke, and his eyes shifted from me to his semi-erect cock. Eight days since my lips had briefly wrapped around his thick prick. Over a fortnight since I had tasted his cum. I would not decline the invitation and my shins hit the threadbare carpet in front of him.

A few passionate long lips of his shaft from the base to the tip had him sighing in pleasure and his dick fully erect. My lips worked his cock head; I suckled gently on his purple crown and my tongue probed his frenulum. Sighs became groans and grunts. His hands rested on my short hair, and he ran his fingers over the top of my head. A measure of control as my mouth bobbed on his manhood.

I adored his familiar taste and odour. His masculine scent was a delight to my arousal and my senses. My cock stretched my lycra and a wet patch from the pre-cum puddled on the white shorts.

I heard Virginia enter the house, but he held my head tight. An audience for my fellatio. Another witness to my cocksucking. Scott ground his hips; the voyeur piqued his arousal. He loved playing to a crowd.

His cock quivered. My hands felt his muscles tighten, and he grunted loudly before filling my mouth with his piquant seed. I looked up at him, over his bare chest, and he smiled at me, and then beamed at Virginia. "Hey, my favourite fag has done you a favour." He tapped me on the head as his dick fell from my mouth. "Say thank you to Virginia for letting you suck my cock."

Virginia, in her sweaty running gear, shook her head. "Thankfully, I'm not the jealous type," she said with a wry giggle. "And yes, you can suck his cock all you want. Why anyone enjoys giving blowjobs is a mystery."

"You're crazy," I muttered. "Crazy!"

* * * * *

I returned to the summerhouse to help Martin cook Sunday tea. Kevin had been well-fucked, well-disciplined and utterly humiliated during his four hours with my fiancée and Martin's wife. He left in the same scandalous outfit, and Clare arranged the next date on his training.

Life persisted as normal; I worked in the summerhouse and Martin managed his companies and investments, while our partners screwed in the evenings and had their commitments during the day. Clare kept up with their project, the naïve Kevin, and his naked, abused body became a regular visitor to the dungeon.

Two weeks later, after Martin and I dished up pasta, Victoria tapped the table. "We have a little announcement," she said gleefully. "We know who the new owners of next door are."

"Who?"

"It'll go through next week, all being well, and the new owners are..."

She paused. "Yes?" Clare asked.

"Us," announced Victoria. "We are the new owners. It's three times the size of this place and with so much more land and outbuildings. And it's not overlooked at all. We have plans. And Clare, we want you to have this house. You and your new husband, as your wedding present."