Moment of Clarity
- 2 years ago
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A Moment Of Perfect Clarity free porn video
Have you ever experienced a moment in your life of perfect, crystal clarity? Where a myriad intertwining threads come together to form a nexus of exquisite awareness, a yawning chasm of realization from which there is no turning back?
For me, that moment was the moment where Alison Hunter, Ms. Hunter, clipped the short silver chain to the collar around my neck and told me, in absolutely no uncertain terms, what my life was to be from that moment, and what it was not.
“You will obey me without question,” she said, her tone calm and measured. “You will do what I say, when I say it. You will not question me, you will not doubt me. While you wear my collar, while you call me Mistress, you will belong to me and me alone. Is that clear?”
I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, a futile attempt to calm the galloping drumbeat of my heart and the raging maelstrom of emotions that whirled through my mind. I barely knew her, this older woman, this tarnished authority figure, so why did I feel so beholden to her? Why didn’t it surprise me how easily she had found my adddress, found out every detail about my life? Why had I dressed to her exacting standards, casting aside the material trappings of my own personality and slipping so easily into the simple dress and black nylons that she’d mailed me? Why had I come to her house, following the intricate directions penned so neatly on the note that accompanied the clothes? Why had I kneeled when so told me to? Why did I become a simpering, docile little girl whenever I was near her?
I nodded.
“I need to hear you say it, Helen,” she said. There was no impatience, no frustration, no annoyance. Not yet.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said finally, though the voice didn’t sound like my own. It sounded far away, distant, as though I was observing this strange scene from somewhere else, unable to draw line between the self that I knew and the kneeling, timid little girl that I saw before me.
Ms. Hunter moved to the white chair beside me and lowered herself down to a sitting position. Her movements were graceful, precise, mathematical. As she brushed past me, I caught the scent of her perfume and I sighed, intoxicated by the exotic fragrance, the overwhelming sensation of her, how close she was. To think that I ever thought I could put one over on this woman, this towering, formidable personality. To think that I ever had a chance.
She crossed her legs and gave a gentle tug on the silver leash, pulling me to my left. I turned without hesitation, shuffling round on my knees until I was facing her, until I was inches away from her raised foot, slowly dipping up and down, her expensive burgondy heel moving in lazy circles beside me.
“Did you think that you would get away with it?” she said quietly, still perfectly calm, the epitome of control.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said, discarding the temptation to lie, to bargain, to try to talk my way out of it without hesitation. Her question was not rhetorical, and it was long past the time to play games with her or play the innocent, lost waif..
“Did you think that I would care about the pictures you took? That I would care what people would think about me?”
I closed my eyes and sighed, remembering the certainty I’d had about my magnificent plan, how sure I was, how wrong. The seduction, so calculated, so considered. A rich older woman in a hotel bar, a simpering college girl, discovering her sexuality, nervous, naive, willing to do things that would seem unconscionable to the exclusive circles in which Ms. Hunter moved. And the hidden camera, placed in the hotel room with care, positioned so as to catch every depraved act, every sordid perversion that an older woman might visit open the delicate body of a girl barely out of her teens.
“I thought…” I began, but she lifted her finger and silenced me with a single glance.
“You thought that you would make a little money off me. You thought that I was one of your usual marks, a dumb cunt concerned with what her dumb cunt friends think of her but still obsessed with young pussy.” She paused for a second. “How’s that working out for you, honey?”
I closed my eyes and wished that I was far away from where I was. I wished that the bitter pain of regret and shame would go away. I wished that the pulsing ache between my legs would let up for a single second and let me think clearly.
She was right of course. My first mistake was that I’d underestimated her. Alison Hunter wasn’t like the women I normally conned. If I’d done just a small amount of homework, I would have known this. She didn’t care about society finding out about her fucking a girls young enough to be her daughter, that she abused their bodies, tortured them, teased them, held them on that glorious precipice between pleasure and pain for as long as it amused her. She didn’t care because they already knew, but such was her wealth and her power that none of them cared.
Beside me, I sensed a movement and turned my head slightly. Ms. Hunter flexed her toes and slid the expensive heel off her foot, allowing it to hang there, swaying back and forth like a pendulum.
“Take off my shoe, Helen,” she said, calling me by the name that was not my own, but which I answered to anyway. “Take off my shoe and suck my toes.”
I flashed her one final, futile glance, a plea for mercy, to be forgiven, to be released. And then I turned to her foot and slowly lifted the shoe from her flexing toes, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the soft, tanned flesh of her foot. Not yet.
And in that moment, I knew that I would indeed suck her toes. I knew that I would eat her pussy, that I would beg her to let me. I knew that whatever sordid, sinful request she made of me in the days and weeks that followed, I would do without hesitation.
I knew this because I knew the full extent of my error. I knew that my first mistake, the error of miscalculating her weakness, had landed me in this strange situation to begin with. But I also knew that my second mistake was what held me there, what prevented me from running, from disappearing and never looking back, like I had countless times before when the heat became too much.
And what was my second mistake? Well, that’s simple, I thought to myself as I took her perfectly painted toes into my mouth and closed my lips around them. In all of my considerations about the endless humiliating degredations that she would put me through, the agonizing pain and exquisite pleasure that she would inflict on my quivering, aching body, I never, for one single second, anticipated how much I would enjoy it.
“Good girl,” she purred from somewhere above me. “Good girl.”
Fay
- 21.07.2021
- 17
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