Accustomed to Her Face Ch. 15

Midnight Ride

You are in the special basement room. The house is quiet. It's later the same night I am away. You are wearing your heavy silk kimono and you are still horny and dying to play long and hard.

You were missing me so badly that you couldn't sleep despite the whiskey and the phone sex with your little girl-friend and then with me. The last thing I had said before our good-nights as we reluctantly hung up the phone was "Darling, if you can't sleep and you're too curious to wait, you may go down to your play-room. There's a new toy there for my beautiful little girl."

I knew you'd be too curious to wait. You knew I knew -- and you had lain in my bed tossing and turning until you couldn't stand it anymore. You had gotten up, pulled your new heavy silk kimono around your shivering frame, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and the crystal glass from the bed table and stolen silently down the back stairs as if you were committing a naughty sin. You hurried through the dark basement rooms to the door that led into that room -- the one I called your play room. The large heavy door creaked slightly as it opened.

The smell of old incense blew into your face as the door cracked open, and you pushed it slowly inward. The air was very warm -- in contrast to the rest of the basement. The faintest bit of moonlight was filtering in the two windows high up on the exterior walls. You closed the door behind you.

You could feel the moistness between your legs and you knew it was because of the associations you were forming with this room. Your heart was beating a little fast. You knew that your body was reacting in part according to how I was training you to react.

You knew that this training was establishing these associations. It was being done to you slowly, patiently, carefully, undeniably. You knew that I had triggered these events by mentioning a new toy. You knew I had compelled you to discover the toy and so you would feel how you were submitting to me -- even in my absence -- submitting to my will.

The knowledge made you feel dizzy and excited and your pussy gushed. You knew that even that was a symptom of your submission. In this moment you felt my embrace.

Now you reach for the candle where you know it will be, there on the shelf by the door with the little match box. You strike the match, light the candle, and the large room comes into view.

There is the chaise lounge behind the huge one-way mirror on its wheeled frame.

There is something new behind the mirror -- a very fancy tripod with a professional video camera -- and you see it's red light starting to blink. A motion sensor has started the camera. You can see its cord running across the floor and up the far wall. You know you will be recorded. You find the prospect exciting.

There, now to the side, is your play-chair with its steel seat and pan underneath, the very sight of which thrills you.

There, before the mirror on a bed of thick sheepskins, is an object under a crimson satin cloth with a wide wine red bow. It is about three feet long and maybe a foot and a half high -- like a longish low box under the cloth. And all around the sheepskins are candles of all shapes and sizes, waiting to be lit.

You take the lit candle from the shelf. You cross the room and stand above the object. On top of the object is a small gold box with a note. Setting the bottle and glass carefully on the sheepskins, you turn your attention to lighting the candles -- all of them -- you know that's what I intended you to do.

You come back and kneel on the sheepskins beside the object. You pour a glass of whiskey to drink while you read the note -- my personal stationary -- a linen envelope sealed with burgundy wax.

You smile at the sheer romance of it. You know that I knew you would like it. You know that this is why I did it. You feel loved and cherished. You sip the whiskey. My whiskey. You remember that you are being watched. You open the envelope.

"My Darling. I love you so dearly and I'm sorry I can't be there with you tonight. I know you will not be able to resist coming down here to play,, my curious, naughty little kitten -- Konekochan. I got you these things to explore while I'm away. Please enjoy yourself, my love. You'll be in my arms again soon. Love, Daddy"

Your heart flutters and you caress the page with your fingetips.

The little gold box contains golden nipple clamps -- but these have little teeth and are spring loaded -- not terribly strong springs, but firm. And the clamps have weights on short chains that will dangle down when they're on. There is a gold locket on a gold chain. The locket has little pin-holes all over it. It feels heavy.

You immediately put on the locket, then, shedding the robe from your shoulders, first for the left then for the right, you open each clamp and put them on your nipples. They are strong and they pinch. They bite you with their little teeth -- almost but not quite breaking the tender flesh. They are wonderful, nasty little things and the slight pain is perfect.

The locket rests over your heart; smooth, warm, heavy.

Another sip of whiskey. Your pussy is getting very warm.

You slowly lift the satin cloth with its bow off the object.

It is a half-cylinder lying on its side so that it arches away from the floor -- kind of like a saddle -- and in the middle of the top is a separate surface with two phallus-like appendages -- a larger one in front, a smaller one in back -- sticking up. In front of these cocks is a ridged lump. There is a long cord with a small control box at the end with a couple dials and switches.

The object looks like a strange machine. You flick the switch. The machine hums to life, the cocks tilting and screwing in a circular motion and the surface vibrating wickedly.

You can see its purpose. You are to sit on the machine. You are to slide the front phallus into your cunnie and the rear one -- "OH! Oh my!" you speak to the room. You know you are to take that one into your asshole.

You experiment with the controls. You turn down the controls so the cocks are barely rotating and their circles are very small and the vibrations are completely off. You pour more whiskey to fill the little glass. You take a gulp and, as it hits your head, you giggle and reach for the small bottle of lube right there next to the naughty machine. Right there where you know I left it for you.

You glance at your reflection in the mirror. There you are. The beautiful girl kneeling beside the naughty machine. You can't see the camera, but you can see its red light blink through the one-way. You watch yourself as you lubricate the machine's cocks. You watch yourself as you, holding your whiskey glass, your robe off your shoulders and hanging in the bend of your arms, step over and lower yourself onto the machine. You aim the forward cock between your pussy lips and you squirm slightly as you begin to work it in. But suddenly, there's the other cock at your asshole and you begin to flirt with it.

You are excited by it. You are remembering when I took your asshole last week. You are remembering to relax as you squirm on it. You feel it stretching you as it slips in.

It is delicious. Down, slowly down onto the cocks, sliding them in as you involuntarily open your mouth feeling your ass so wickedly violated. You squeal as you lower yourself all the way.

You are sitting on the machine with your legs spread wide. Your knees are off the ground so your full weight has come to bear on the cocks and on the little ridged lump in front -- your pussy lips are spread open and the ridges are right against you clitoris. Your ass is stretched open and it makes you feel completely slutty. You are panting.

You sip your whiskey. You shudder with pleasure. You remember the controls.

Holding the controls in your left hand, your glass in your right, you turn on the machine. You feel the slight movement in your cunnie and ass. You gasp. You turn on the vibrator. You gasp louder. You begin to squirm slightly and rhythmically... beginning to warm to the machine's cycles.

You look up.

There you are -- a wanton beauty reflected in the mirror. You are holding your glass. You are holding the controls. Your hair cascades over your shoulders and down your back. Your breasts are naked and the clamps are pulled down by the weights. As you sway to the machine's urging the weights are swaying too, pulling marvelously on your nipples. Their swaying is remarkably erotic to watch. The camera is watching you.

All the time you feel the relentless stretch in your ass. You feel the larger cock filling your pussy. You feel the vibrations massaging your clitty.

You sip your whiskey and just as you swallow, you are suddenly wracked by an orgasm that takes you by storm. You manage to hold onto the glass, the amber liquid sloshing onto your fingers, but you left hand slips on the controls, pushing them up.

The machine truly whirrs to life. You are shocked by the cocks now truly screwing you -- massaging your cunt and asshole evilly, stretching the membranes between them in an irresistible way just as you are recovering from your orgasm. The vibrations are shaking your pelvis. You groan.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth is open. You moan louder. Your body is swaying as you ride the machine. The weights on the nipple clamps are swinging as you ride pulling your breasts into a whorishly erotic swaying -- back and forth -- side to side. And the locket -- the locket has begun to leak a fragrant oil which had been congealed inside but is now being melted by your body heat and is slowly oozing from its pinhole pores.

The oil has a musky perfume -- intoxicating you further -- and it is trickling down your belly, down your lower abdomen -- over the edge of your groin -- down between your pussy lips, over your clitoris. It is hot. It is like fire. It feels amazingly good.

You raise your glass and drain it down just as your next orgasm strikes. And you arch back and scream.

You drop the glass -- good thing for the thick, soft sheepskins. You drop the controls and as they bounce, they ratchet up to a new, higher level.

You squeal. The machine is now pushing you to that place -- that wonderful moment of total surrender. You shed the robe off your arms. With every swing, the nipple clamps are biting you exquisitely. You look in the mirror and you see droplets of red -- your blood -- where they are biting you deeper and deeper now that you are riding so hard. The camera is recording your every move.

The sight pushes you over the edge. You scream over and over. The heating, fragrant oil running down from the locket to your cunny, the sight of your nipples bitten so hard they're now dripping blood, the insistent dildos screwing your cunt and asshole, the ridges rubbing you clitoris mercilessly -- all these things drive you over the edge and you wail --

"Daddy! Oh, God, Daddy! I love you! I belong to you, Daddy." And you come so hard you see stars. You search for the controls down below you. There they are. But too late -- you scream again...

"Daddy! Daddy! Oh thank you, Daddy! I'm yours, my Daddy."

Stars again.

You lean dangerously forward and grab the controls. You turn them off. You sit, impaled on the machine's cocks and look up at your reflection. The magical oil trickling down, arousing you again, the little droplets of blood dripping from your nipples -- hot, searing.

You reach down for the bottle and the glass. You pour. Then you turn the machine back on low.

You look into the camera. "God, you know me well, Daddy."

It's time for a nice, long, ride.