Robot Ponygirls
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Master watched her from across the crowded bar. Long legs sheathed in sprayed on spandex printed to look like the galaxy leading up to a well rounded ass which He couldn’t stop looking at. She was a bit too tall and broad-shouldered to be passable, but she obviously tried hard to be pretty, and He knew that boys like that who secretly wanted to be girls made excellent sex slaves, almost as though the additional humiliation of being dressed as a female intensified their fear and made them more obedient.
Her long blonde hair hung down the middle of the black motorcycle jacket she was wearing, and she tottered occasionally as she fought to keep her balance on the stiletto heeled boots she was wearing. The heels will have to go, He thought to himself, not only could they be used as weapons against him, he found that he liked his slaves barefoot in case they required some discipline, and having them barefoot also sent a subliminal message that said, “You’re not going anywhere until I say so.”
She turned and glanced at around the people in the club and caught Master staring at her. A look of surprise crossed her expression which quickly turned into a crooked little smile as she offered him a tease in the form of a little wave, almost as if to say, “Stare all you want, but you can’t have any.”
His suspicions were then confirmed as she leaned against the bar on her elbows, sticking her tight little ass out at Him and then looking back to make sure he was still watching.
Master smiled. He liked it when little sluts dared to tease him, it always made it more fun to bury His cock in them once they realized they’d teased the wrong person. This one was like that, He could tell. She probably lets guys buy her drinks all night, He thought, flirting and shoving her ass at them just enough to keep them interested, and then bailing out at the end of the night while their backs are turned. The select few might get a little hand action or even a half-assed blowjob out of her if they’re lucky, but no way was she letting any of them fuck her, not if she could avoid it, and DEFINITELY not up her tight little ass.
Master took up position a few stools down from her at the bar, her ass and tits looking even better to Him close-up, and he got His first clear look at her face. It was tough to guess her age but Master guestimated her to be about thirty, she had blue eyes heavily ringed in black makeup, and full pouty lips that Master imagined would feel great wrapped around His cock.
She noticed Him at the bar and took a moment to look him over, but when Master locked eyes with her and she knew she’d been caught, she quickly looked away and went back to her drink. Master watched her carefully and timed His approach with the finishing of her drink. She’d just asked the bartender for a refill when He slid up beside her and told the guy to make it two, on His tab.
She looked at Him curiously, and, deciding he was no threat to her, gave him half a smile and said, “Thanks, stud.”
“Having a nice time?” He asked.
She shrugged indifferently. “I guess.”
“See anything you like?”
To this, she laughed. “I usually do.”
He grinned and nodded. “I bet you do. Looking for someone or something specific?”
She chuckled sardonically, “Whatever comes up, I suppose. Half of the guys in here are just looking to get their dicks sucked and the other half take off their wedding rings in the parking lot.”
“Not your taste . . . so to speak?”
“You might say that.”
“So what IS your taste?”
She looked at him questioningly and hesitated as though she wouldn’t answer, then probably decided there was no harm. “I’m looking for something a little . . . darker.”
Master smiled. “Do tell.”
She considered it and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Please, I’m intrigued.”
“By what I like in the bedroom?”
“By YOU in general.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
After a moment she let out a sigh and drained her drink. “Maybe some other time.”
Master reached out and took hold of her long enough to stop her from leaving and quickly released her before the gesture became threatening. He leaned over to her and whispered in her ear. “How about we have one more drink and I’ll tell you what I think I know about you. If I guess right, then we go back to my place and I show you my dungeon.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then you go your way and I go my own.” He held up his hand and pointed to his wedding band, “My wife is at home with our c***d, so you’re perfectly safe.”
She thought about it for a few seconds, then, deciding she had nothing to lose, she nodded. “Okay, tell me about me.”
Krissy
Master led her to a booth where they could talk in private and sat across from her. She looked a little nervous but her cheeks were slightly flushed, and He could see she was excited. “So?” she asked. “Let’s hear it.”
“Before we get to that,” He said, regarding her seriously, “mind if I ask . . . how long have you been dressing?”
“Not that long . . . panties under my normal clothes pretty much 24/7 since I was a teenager, started dressing up all the way a couple years ago.”
“And sex with men?”
She blushed, “Twenty years, give or take?”
“And you enjoy it?”
She shrugged, “Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
She huffed and rolled her eyes, searching for the right words. “Thing is . . . men who want to fuck me aren’t interested in ‘real’ girls . . .” she made quotation marks with her fingers and went on, “ . . . what they’re really looking for is a big cock in a skirt, and half the time they actually want ME to fuck THEM.”
“Not your thing?”
She shook her head, “Not even a little. When I’m dressed I don’t have a cock as far as sex is concerned. And if I wanted my dick sucked, I’d get a girl, a REAL girl, to do it. Problem is, most of the guys I meet seem to think the same way as I do.”
Master nodded, “I understand completely. When you’re dressed you want to be with real men. So how do you want them to treat you? Gently? Do you want them to make love to you?”
She shook her head and smiled playfully. “Nuh uh . . . this is supposed to be the part where you tell ME about me, remember?”
Master smiled and leaned back in his seat, taking her in. “Fair enough . . . here’s what I think . . . I think you’re not looking to be treated gently, you want to be fucked. More than that. I think you want to be overpowered . . . dominated, you want to feel helpless and vulnerable, you want feel like you have no control over what happens to you . . . how am I doing so far?”
She nodded, visibly impressed. “Fine so far . . .”
“I think it goes even deeper than that though. Any number of men would be more than happy to man handle you a little while they fuck you, and you’ve let a few do it to you, maybe even more than a few. But what you’re really searching for is an authority figure, someone you fear emotionally as much as you fear them physically. A DADDY, perhaps?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her cheeks beginning to glow as red as her lips, which she chewed at nervously. He zoned in on her intensely. “Ahh, that’s the one . . . a Daddy. And you’re not just a girl, you’re a little girl, HIS little girl, and what little girl can refuse her Daddy? You let him do things to you, even things that hurt or taste funny, partly because you’re not strong enough to fight him but partly because you’re not brave enough to defy him. Your tits, your ass, your mouth . . . they all belong to HIM, and he uses them whenever and however he pleases. Sometimes he comes to you when you’re sleeping, strips you naked from the waist down and holds you facedown on the bed while he fucks you in the ass . . . if you’ve been bad he’ll handcuff you to the radiator in your bedroom or maybe to the staircase and leave you like that for hours, making you suck his cock to completion in exchange for the key. Sometimes he’s so overcome with passion that he grabs you and throws you down, tears off your panties and forces himself inside of you . . . fucking you to tears while you beg for him to either stop, or finish. And he never stops until he’s finished . . . he shoots his hot cum wherever it pleases him . . . in your mouth, on your face or your ass . . . sometimes deep inside of you where it stays. Sometimes before he fucks you though, he likes to hurt you a little, break you down so you’ll do as your told. If you’re lucky, he might only spank your ass until it’s as red as your cheeks are right now, but sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes he wants tears, he wants you to beg, so he’ll use something tougher than his hands, like a rod or a belt . . . and he’ll make you agree to do WHATEVER HE WANTS. Before long he’s fucking you harder and longer and more often, he doesn’t even NEED to hurt you because you KNOW what he can do to you if you displease him, so you go along with whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. And your secret, the one you’re too ashamed to admit to anyone including yourself, is that even though he hurts you and makes you feel ashamed, you WANT him to fuck you. Through the pain and the shame your secret is that it feels GOOD too, better than it should, and you LIKE that it’s dirty, and wrong, and it hurts a little, because it’s better that way. You LIKE being tied up and held down and made a prisoner, and you LIKE having him inside of you. You may struggle against the pain but you WANT him to fuck you, and once he’s inside you BEG him for it.”
Master took a sip of his drink and let her sit with it a moment before asking, “So, how did I do?”
Her face was bright red and she looked a little like a deer caught in the path of an oncoming semi, but she managed a small smile for him. “You seem to know a lot about me . . .”
He smiled, “Nobody knows a girl better than her Daddy.”
Daddy’s Home
Master showed Krissy into His dungeon and stood back while she took a look around. She was smiling, though the smile betrayed her reservations. She’d probably never been in a real dungeon before, a place where items meant to inflict discomfort and actual pain were literally hanging from the walls. The table, the pegging bench, the cross and the cage under the stairs all signifying the gravity of allowing oneself to be restrained by them; these were not mere toys intended for lovers looking to spice things up in the bedroom, but true domination with a dangerous component of risk of actual a*****ion, and sexual slavery. The same could be said of a simple pair of police issue handcuffs or a length of rope, but there was something about seeing the cage and the restraints and the ten inch dildos would give any girl room for pause.
What if she let Him lock her up and then refused to let her go? What if he KEPT her?
He was married and had a family, true enough, but there were plenty of instances of wives keeping silent about the girls their husbands took as sex slaves. Sometimes, the wives used them too. For that reason He decided to proceed very slowly, keeping his hands and his urges to Himself until SHE came to HIM.
“So, Krissy, what do you think?” he asked, easing down onto His throne and watching her explore.
“Lot of stuff here,” she said admittedly.
“And a lot of years to make it what it is,” Master added.
“So have you had very many people down here?”
“Not as many as you’d think. I generally prefer to have one person down here for a long time than a bunch of people for a short time.”
Her eyebrows shot up, “How long is a long time?”
“Not that long,” He chuckled. “At least not all in one stretch. Some for an hour or two, other a day or two, assuming they can take it that long.”
“And if they want to leave . . . for whatever you’re doing to stop?”
“One little word. Mercy. Naturally, I do my best NOT to make anyone say it, and very few people have. But for those for who it got to be too much, they said one little word and were instantly freed, no hesitation.”
She nodded as though the answer satisfied her, but she still looked tense, understandable considering how cool Master liked to keep His dungeon. She’d thank Him for it later. She spotted something on one of the shelves and pulled down a bottle of flavoured lube He kept there. “Do you mind?” she asked.
“Since you asked, knock yourself out.”
She squirted a little on her finger and stuck that finger into her mouth, her cheeks puckering in a way that gave Master a hard-on. She closed her eyes and then let out a Hmmm. “Not bad,” she commented, replacing the bottle on the shelf.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“So your wife . . . she doesn’t mind you bringing people down here . . . fucking them?”
“No, She doesn’t mind. In fact, she does as well, sometimes we even share.”
“I see . . . and is it always girls like me, I mean, is that your thing?”
“You might say that, but every one of them is unique in their own way. No two girls are the same.”
She looked over in his direction without looking directly at him and asked, “Do any of them call you Daddy?”
He smiled. “No, you’d be the first.”
Still not convinced, she continued to stroll about the dungeon as though she was window shopping, but Master could tell she was trying to build up the nerve to ask what was really on her mind. He wanted to ask her what she was afraid of but He could see that she was perilously close to bolting at that very moment, so he let her think in silence.
She took down a pair of hinged handcuffs from a hook on the wall and examined them, and Master finally broke the long silence. “Like those?”
She half nodded and half shrugged. “They’re alright, I guess . . .”
“Would you like to try them on?”
She almost put them down but stopped herself at the last minute and turned to face him, frowning as though she was trying to work out a difficult problem in her head. “Let’s say that I did . . . what would happen next?”
“Are you asking for yourself or in general?”
“A bit of both.”
“I see. And you’re worried about what I might do to you after you put those on . . .”
“A little.”
“In order for me to answer that, I’d first need to know what you DON’T want to happen. What would you definitely NOT like me to do?”
“For starters . . . I wouldn’t want you to try and kiss me or make out with me or anything like that . . .”
“I believe I can manage that . . . what else?”
“I wouldn’t want to do anything . . . gross.”
“Define gross.”
“Like . . . sitting on my face, making me lick your asshole, PISSING on me . . . you know, the raunchy stuff.”
“Understood. But if I were to manhandle you a little, hold you down, make you pleasure me?”
The blush returned to her cheeks. “That sounds okay.”
“Good . . . and if I were to make you call me your Daddy?”
She moved closer, blushing harder still. “Yes.”
“And if I were to collar you . . . make you get on your knees for me?”
Closer still . . . “Yes.”
“And if I were to use your mouth for my pleasure?”
“Yes.”
“And if I were to give you a hard spanking . . . put my fingers inside of you?”
A blink, then, “Yes.”
“And what if, My Krissy, if I decided to pull off those tights you’re wearing and fuck you senseless . . . would that be acceptable?”
She took the final hesitant steps and stood before him, dangling the handcuffs out to Him on the tips of two fingers. “Yes.”
“That’s all fine with me,” He smiled. “The question is, do you want me to?”
No hesitation this time, her mind is made up. “Yes.”
He held up one finger and turned from her, moving to his throne and returning with a collar. He took the cuffs from her and dropped them into his pocket before instructing her to turn around. With her back to Him, he gently gathered her long hair and moved it off to one shoulder before attaching the collar around her neck and securing it with a padlock. He fixed her hair and slid the tips of His fingers down her arms until He reached her wrists, which he placed behind her back and secured with the steel cuffs.
“Not too tight?”
She shook her head.
He nudged her shoulder to turn her around until she was facing Him. He gazed upon her, stroking her face with the back of His hand, marveling at the anxious anticipation in her eyes.
“Now . . . tell your Daddy what you want.”
“But I already told you what I . . .”
He shook his head and smiled patiently. “No . . . I want to hear you say it, Krissy. Tell me what you want.”
“You already KNOW!”
“That’s right, I DO know, I’ve known from the moment I laid eyes on you. Now I want to hear you say it out loud for Me.”
Her eyes darted about nervously for a moment before locking with His, then she spoke the words she was afraid to speak, and probably had been for her entire adult life.
“Fuck me, Daddy.”
He led her to the table and instructed her to hop on it. When she had He removed her boots and tossed them aside. Then he fetched a leather lead with clips on both ends and the bottle of lube she’d been curious about. Standing beside the table he helped her first to the floor, and then to her knees before Him.
He attached one end of the lead to her collar and she opened her mouth to ask him something. “Quiet,” He said firmly. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” Then He remembered, “Do you remember the word to make it stop?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“Mercy.”
“Good.”
“If you can’t speak, shake your head really hard and I’ll stop as though you said it. Understand?”
She nodded.
He wrapped the lead around the small of his back, fed it through one of the heavy loops on his belt and out the other side, where he attached the 2nd end to her collar, trapping her with her face mere inches from the tent he was pitching in His pants. He unbuttoned them and produced His cock, grinning at the widening of her eyes as she saw what He had for her. He lubed himself up liberally and gently pressed the tip of it against her partially parted lips.
“Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?”
She nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good,” He said, smiling down at her. “Show me.”
She took Him into her mouth willingly and began working on Him eagerly, so much so that he had to slow her action with His hands on her head, lest she finish him off too fast. She was good, very good, and her efforts warmed his heart and filled her mouth. When He felt his orgasm beginning to eclipse the horizon, He had to force himself to stop her, pushing her head away and fumbling to release the lead tether her to Him even as she continued to work the tip, bringing him perilously close to the end before He’d had His fun.
Once he’d detached Himself from her, he took her by the arm and forcefully bent her over the table, stepping up behind her and pushing His exposed cock into her ass as though He could fuck her through the tights she was wearing. She made an attempt to squirm so He planted a hand on the center of her back and pushed down while He stepped in closer, pinning her.
“Do you like that?”
When she didn’t answer fast enough He gave her a hard slap across the ass, the sound as loud as a firecracker echoed through the room followed by her response, “Yes Daddy!”
He slapped her ass again, “Yes?”
“Yes Daddy!”
He slapped her a third time and left His hand clamped there, feeling the warmth coming from her opening, and the wetness of her tights where it was stretched over her hardened clitty.
He dug his fingers into her through the tights, “You’re My little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He slapped her again, hard enough to make her yelp and case His hand to sting. “Say it!”
“I’m your little slut, Daddy! I’m your little slut!”
He yanked her tights down to her thighs, spit in his palm and entered her with two fingers, causing her to buck under His weight and moan. Resisting at first, then pushing back a little.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“That’s right, you want to get fucked, don’t you?”
“Yes Daddy.”
He lubed himself up, slapped a few fingers worth on her clenched rectum, and eased up behind her. “Tell me what you want.”
Her response was every bit as brilliant as the sight of her, bent over on the table, legs spread wide, her body vibrating like a tuning for as she answered. “Fuck me Daddy, fuck me hard.”
END
Her long blonde hair hung down the middle of the black motorcycle jacket she was wearing, and she tottered occasionally as she fought to keep her balance on the stiletto heeled boots she was wearing. The heels will have to go, He thought to himself, not only could they be used as weapons against him, he found that he liked his slaves barefoot in case they required some discipline, and having them barefoot also sent a subliminal message that said, “You’re not going anywhere until I say so.”
She turned and glanced at around the people in the club and caught Master staring at her. A look of surprise crossed her expression which quickly turned into a crooked little smile as she offered him a tease in the form of a little wave, almost as if to say, “Stare all you want, but you can’t have any.”
His suspicions were then confirmed as she leaned against the bar on her elbows, sticking her tight little ass out at Him and then looking back to make sure he was still watching.
Master smiled. He liked it when little sluts dared to tease him, it always made it more fun to bury His cock in them once they realized they’d teased the wrong person. This one was like that, He could tell. She probably lets guys buy her drinks all night, He thought, flirting and shoving her ass at them just enough to keep them interested, and then bailing out at the end of the night while their backs are turned. The select few might get a little hand action or even a half-assed blowjob out of her if they’re lucky, but no way was she letting any of them fuck her, not if she could avoid it, and DEFINITELY not up her tight little ass.
Master took up position a few stools down from her at the bar, her ass and tits looking even better to Him close-up, and he got His first clear look at her face. It was tough to guess her age but Master guestimated her to be about thirty, she had blue eyes heavily ringed in black makeup, and full pouty lips that Master imagined would feel great wrapped around His cock.
She noticed Him at the bar and took a moment to look him over, but when Master locked eyes with her and she knew she’d been caught, she quickly looked away and went back to her drink. Master watched her carefully and timed His approach with the finishing of her drink. She’d just asked the bartender for a refill when He slid up beside her and told the guy to make it two, on His tab.
She looked at Him curiously, and, deciding he was no threat to her, gave him half a smile and said, “Thanks, stud.”
“Having a nice time?” He asked.
She shrugged indifferently. “I guess.”
“See anything you like?”
To this, she laughed. “I usually do.”
He grinned and nodded. “I bet you do. Looking for someone or something specific?”
She chuckled sardonically, “Whatever comes up, I suppose. Half of the guys in here are just looking to get their dicks sucked and the other half take off their wedding rings in the parking lot.”
“Not your taste . . . so to speak?”
“You might say that.”
“So what IS your taste?”
She looked at him questioningly and hesitated as though she wouldn’t answer, then probably decided there was no harm. “I’m looking for something a little . . . darker.”
Master smiled. “Do tell.”
She considered it and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Please, I’m intrigued.”
“By what I like in the bedroom?”
“By YOU in general.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
After a moment she let out a sigh and drained her drink. “Maybe some other time.”
Master reached out and took hold of her long enough to stop her from leaving and quickly released her before the gesture became threatening. He leaned over to her and whispered in her ear. “How about we have one more drink and I’ll tell you what I think I know about you. If I guess right, then we go back to my place and I show you my dungeon.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then you go your way and I go my own.” He held up his hand and pointed to his wedding band, “My wife is at home with our c***d, so you’re perfectly safe.”
She thought about it for a few seconds, then, deciding she had nothing to lose, she nodded. “Okay, tell me about me.”
Krissy
Master led her to a booth where they could talk in private and sat across from her. She looked a little nervous but her cheeks were slightly flushed, and He could see she was excited. “So?” she asked. “Let’s hear it.”
“Before we get to that,” He said, regarding her seriously, “mind if I ask . . . how long have you been dressing?”
“Not that long . . . panties under my normal clothes pretty much 24/7 since I was a teenager, started dressing up all the way a couple years ago.”
“And sex with men?”
She blushed, “Twenty years, give or take?”
“And you enjoy it?”
She shrugged, “Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
She huffed and rolled her eyes, searching for the right words. “Thing is . . . men who want to fuck me aren’t interested in ‘real’ girls . . .” she made quotation marks with her fingers and went on, “ . . . what they’re really looking for is a big cock in a skirt, and half the time they actually want ME to fuck THEM.”
“Not your thing?”
She shook her head, “Not even a little. When I’m dressed I don’t have a cock as far as sex is concerned. And if I wanted my dick sucked, I’d get a girl, a REAL girl, to do it. Problem is, most of the guys I meet seem to think the same way as I do.”
Master nodded, “I understand completely. When you’re dressed you want to be with real men. So how do you want them to treat you? Gently? Do you want them to make love to you?”
She shook her head and smiled playfully. “Nuh uh . . . this is supposed to be the part where you tell ME about me, remember?”
Master smiled and leaned back in his seat, taking her in. “Fair enough . . . here’s what I think . . . I think you’re not looking to be treated gently, you want to be fucked. More than that. I think you want to be overpowered . . . dominated, you want to feel helpless and vulnerable, you want feel like you have no control over what happens to you . . . how am I doing so far?”
She nodded, visibly impressed. “Fine so far . . .”
“I think it goes even deeper than that though. Any number of men would be more than happy to man handle you a little while they fuck you, and you’ve let a few do it to you, maybe even more than a few. But what you’re really searching for is an authority figure, someone you fear emotionally as much as you fear them physically. A DADDY, perhaps?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her cheeks beginning to glow as red as her lips, which she chewed at nervously. He zoned in on her intensely. “Ahh, that’s the one . . . a Daddy. And you’re not just a girl, you’re a little girl, HIS little girl, and what little girl can refuse her Daddy? You let him do things to you, even things that hurt or taste funny, partly because you’re not strong enough to fight him but partly because you’re not brave enough to defy him. Your tits, your ass, your mouth . . . they all belong to HIM, and he uses them whenever and however he pleases. Sometimes he comes to you when you’re sleeping, strips you naked from the waist down and holds you facedown on the bed while he fucks you in the ass . . . if you’ve been bad he’ll handcuff you to the radiator in your bedroom or maybe to the staircase and leave you like that for hours, making you suck his cock to completion in exchange for the key. Sometimes he’s so overcome with passion that he grabs you and throws you down, tears off your panties and forces himself inside of you . . . fucking you to tears while you beg for him to either stop, or finish. And he never stops until he’s finished . . . he shoots his hot cum wherever it pleases him . . . in your mouth, on your face or your ass . . . sometimes deep inside of you where it stays. Sometimes before he fucks you though, he likes to hurt you a little, break you down so you’ll do as your told. If you’re lucky, he might only spank your ass until it’s as red as your cheeks are right now, but sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes he wants tears, he wants you to beg, so he’ll use something tougher than his hands, like a rod or a belt . . . and he’ll make you agree to do WHATEVER HE WANTS. Before long he’s fucking you harder and longer and more often, he doesn’t even NEED to hurt you because you KNOW what he can do to you if you displease him, so you go along with whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. And your secret, the one you’re too ashamed to admit to anyone including yourself, is that even though he hurts you and makes you feel ashamed, you WANT him to fuck you. Through the pain and the shame your secret is that it feels GOOD too, better than it should, and you LIKE that it’s dirty, and wrong, and it hurts a little, because it’s better that way. You LIKE being tied up and held down and made a prisoner, and you LIKE having him inside of you. You may struggle against the pain but you WANT him to fuck you, and once he’s inside you BEG him for it.”
Master took a sip of his drink and let her sit with it a moment before asking, “So, how did I do?”
Her face was bright red and she looked a little like a deer caught in the path of an oncoming semi, but she managed a small smile for him. “You seem to know a lot about me . . .”
He smiled, “Nobody knows a girl better than her Daddy.”
Daddy’s Home
Master showed Krissy into His dungeon and stood back while she took a look around. She was smiling, though the smile betrayed her reservations. She’d probably never been in a real dungeon before, a place where items meant to inflict discomfort and actual pain were literally hanging from the walls. The table, the pegging bench, the cross and the cage under the stairs all signifying the gravity of allowing oneself to be restrained by them; these were not mere toys intended for lovers looking to spice things up in the bedroom, but true domination with a dangerous component of risk of actual a*****ion, and sexual slavery. The same could be said of a simple pair of police issue handcuffs or a length of rope, but there was something about seeing the cage and the restraints and the ten inch dildos would give any girl room for pause.
What if she let Him lock her up and then refused to let her go? What if he KEPT her?
He was married and had a family, true enough, but there were plenty of instances of wives keeping silent about the girls their husbands took as sex slaves. Sometimes, the wives used them too. For that reason He decided to proceed very slowly, keeping his hands and his urges to Himself until SHE came to HIM.
“So, Krissy, what do you think?” he asked, easing down onto His throne and watching her explore.
“Lot of stuff here,” she said admittedly.
“And a lot of years to make it what it is,” Master added.
“So have you had very many people down here?”
“Not as many as you’d think. I generally prefer to have one person down here for a long time than a bunch of people for a short time.”
Her eyebrows shot up, “How long is a long time?”
“Not that long,” He chuckled. “At least not all in one stretch. Some for an hour or two, other a day or two, assuming they can take it that long.”
“And if they want to leave . . . for whatever you’re doing to stop?”
“One little word. Mercy. Naturally, I do my best NOT to make anyone say it, and very few people have. But for those for who it got to be too much, they said one little word and were instantly freed, no hesitation.”
She nodded as though the answer satisfied her, but she still looked tense, understandable considering how cool Master liked to keep His dungeon. She’d thank Him for it later. She spotted something on one of the shelves and pulled down a bottle of flavoured lube He kept there. “Do you mind?” she asked.
“Since you asked, knock yourself out.”
She squirted a little on her finger and stuck that finger into her mouth, her cheeks puckering in a way that gave Master a hard-on. She closed her eyes and then let out a Hmmm. “Not bad,” she commented, replacing the bottle on the shelf.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“So your wife . . . she doesn’t mind you bringing people down here . . . fucking them?”
“No, She doesn’t mind. In fact, she does as well, sometimes we even share.”
“I see . . . and is it always girls like me, I mean, is that your thing?”
“You might say that, but every one of them is unique in their own way. No two girls are the same.”
She looked over in his direction without looking directly at him and asked, “Do any of them call you Daddy?”
He smiled. “No, you’d be the first.”
Still not convinced, she continued to stroll about the dungeon as though she was window shopping, but Master could tell she was trying to build up the nerve to ask what was really on her mind. He wanted to ask her what she was afraid of but He could see that she was perilously close to bolting at that very moment, so he let her think in silence.
She took down a pair of hinged handcuffs from a hook on the wall and examined them, and Master finally broke the long silence. “Like those?”
She half nodded and half shrugged. “They’re alright, I guess . . .”
“Would you like to try them on?”
She almost put them down but stopped herself at the last minute and turned to face him, frowning as though she was trying to work out a difficult problem in her head. “Let’s say that I did . . . what would happen next?”
“Are you asking for yourself or in general?”
“A bit of both.”
“I see. And you’re worried about what I might do to you after you put those on . . .”
“A little.”
“In order for me to answer that, I’d first need to know what you DON’T want to happen. What would you definitely NOT like me to do?”
“For starters . . . I wouldn’t want you to try and kiss me or make out with me or anything like that . . .”
“I believe I can manage that . . . what else?”
“I wouldn’t want to do anything . . . gross.”
“Define gross.”
“Like . . . sitting on my face, making me lick your asshole, PISSING on me . . . you know, the raunchy stuff.”
“Understood. But if I were to manhandle you a little, hold you down, make you pleasure me?”
The blush returned to her cheeks. “That sounds okay.”
“Good . . . and if I were to make you call me your Daddy?”
She moved closer, blushing harder still. “Yes.”
“And if I were to collar you . . . make you get on your knees for me?”
Closer still . . . “Yes.”
“And if I were to use your mouth for my pleasure?”
“Yes.”
“And if I were to give you a hard spanking . . . put my fingers inside of you?”
A blink, then, “Yes.”
“And what if, My Krissy, if I decided to pull off those tights you’re wearing and fuck you senseless . . . would that be acceptable?”
She took the final hesitant steps and stood before him, dangling the handcuffs out to Him on the tips of two fingers. “Yes.”
“That’s all fine with me,” He smiled. “The question is, do you want me to?”
No hesitation this time, her mind is made up. “Yes.”
He held up one finger and turned from her, moving to his throne and returning with a collar. He took the cuffs from her and dropped them into his pocket before instructing her to turn around. With her back to Him, he gently gathered her long hair and moved it off to one shoulder before attaching the collar around her neck and securing it with a padlock. He fixed her hair and slid the tips of His fingers down her arms until He reached her wrists, which he placed behind her back and secured with the steel cuffs.
“Not too tight?”
She shook her head.
He nudged her shoulder to turn her around until she was facing Him. He gazed upon her, stroking her face with the back of His hand, marveling at the anxious anticipation in her eyes.
“Now . . . tell your Daddy what you want.”
“But I already told you what I . . .”
He shook his head and smiled patiently. “No . . . I want to hear you say it, Krissy. Tell me what you want.”
“You already KNOW!”
“That’s right, I DO know, I’ve known from the moment I laid eyes on you. Now I want to hear you say it out loud for Me.”
Her eyes darted about nervously for a moment before locking with His, then she spoke the words she was afraid to speak, and probably had been for her entire adult life.
“Fuck me, Daddy.”
He led her to the table and instructed her to hop on it. When she had He removed her boots and tossed them aside. Then he fetched a leather lead with clips on both ends and the bottle of lube she’d been curious about. Standing beside the table he helped her first to the floor, and then to her knees before Him.
He attached one end of the lead to her collar and she opened her mouth to ask him something. “Quiet,” He said firmly. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” Then He remembered, “Do you remember the word to make it stop?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“Mercy.”
“Good.”
“If you can’t speak, shake your head really hard and I’ll stop as though you said it. Understand?”
She nodded.
He wrapped the lead around the small of his back, fed it through one of the heavy loops on his belt and out the other side, where he attached the 2nd end to her collar, trapping her with her face mere inches from the tent he was pitching in His pants. He unbuttoned them and produced His cock, grinning at the widening of her eyes as she saw what He had for her. He lubed himself up liberally and gently pressed the tip of it against her partially parted lips.
“Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?”
She nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good,” He said, smiling down at her. “Show me.”
She took Him into her mouth willingly and began working on Him eagerly, so much so that he had to slow her action with His hands on her head, lest she finish him off too fast. She was good, very good, and her efforts warmed his heart and filled her mouth. When He felt his orgasm beginning to eclipse the horizon, He had to force himself to stop her, pushing her head away and fumbling to release the lead tether her to Him even as she continued to work the tip, bringing him perilously close to the end before He’d had His fun.
Once he’d detached Himself from her, he took her by the arm and forcefully bent her over the table, stepping up behind her and pushing His exposed cock into her ass as though He could fuck her through the tights she was wearing. She made an attempt to squirm so He planted a hand on the center of her back and pushed down while He stepped in closer, pinning her.
“Do you like that?”
When she didn’t answer fast enough He gave her a hard slap across the ass, the sound as loud as a firecracker echoed through the room followed by her response, “Yes Daddy!”
He slapped her ass again, “Yes?”
“Yes Daddy!”
He slapped her a third time and left His hand clamped there, feeling the warmth coming from her opening, and the wetness of her tights where it was stretched over her hardened clitty.
He dug his fingers into her through the tights, “You’re My little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He slapped her again, hard enough to make her yelp and case His hand to sting. “Say it!”
“I’m your little slut, Daddy! I’m your little slut!”
He yanked her tights down to her thighs, spit in his palm and entered her with two fingers, causing her to buck under His weight and moan. Resisting at first, then pushing back a little.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“That’s right, you want to get fucked, don’t you?”
“Yes Daddy.”
He lubed himself up, slapped a few fingers worth on her clenched rectum, and eased up behind her. “Tell me what you want.”
Her response was every bit as brilliant as the sight of her, bent over on the table, legs spread wide, her body vibrating like a tuning for as she answered. “Fuck me Daddy, fuck me hard.”
END
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