Mothers Special Gift
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The Gift free porn video
The Gift
By JoAnna Michaels
I am still alone. The house is quiet again. An hour ago,
perhaps a little longer, I thought I heard voices and
laughter upstairs. Between the old, thick walls of the
house and my mounting anxiety I could not be certain. It
was probably only my imagination, or the wind, or nothing
at all.
I am blindfolded and bound. Both my wrists and ankles are
imprisoned in thick, padded leather cuffs. These cuffs, in
turn, are fastened securely to the arms and legs of the
oversized chair I am sitting in. If I used all my strength
I could most likely free myself from my restraints. More
than two decades old, the chair would probably splinter if
I used all my power to gain freedom. I have not made that
effort, of course, because I do not want to be free.
Freedom is the last thing I want.
Mistress blindfolded and bound me at noon, just after she
had finished preparing me for this afternoon. First she
laid out my clothes and watched quietly as I dressed.
Normally she does not watch me. I felt strangely shy,
pulling my white stockings up my bare legs in front of her
and fastening them to the dainty garters dangling from the
lace trimmed bottom of my new white bustier. I was clumsier
than usual and it took me several attempts to properly
position and lock the garter snaps.
When I was ready, Mistress presented me with a new dress
she had purchased for me the week before and kept secret
until this morning. I was stunned. It reminded me of a
wedding dress: white, a high v-neck, short sleeves and a
high waist above a long, flowing skirt. The cool, smooth
fabric felt wonderful against my skin. After I donned my
bone white high heels she led me to the bathroom and spent
thirty minutes doing my makeup and combing my long brown
hair.
"Today will be a day of firsts, my pet," she said, her
voice sounding softer than usual. "You must do everything I
command. Without hesitation." She leaned forward and her
lips brushed my cheek as she ran one hand up my thigh,
under my dress. "Do you understand?"
Suddenly her long nails dug deeply into my soft flesh. I
shuddered, wanting to hold her, to give myself completely
over to her power. Instead I only mutely nodded my assent.
"Good," she smiled at me in the mirror as she began running
the comb once again slowly through my hair. "Very good,
JoAnna."
I did not want to be blindfolded. Sitting on the bed I was
fascinated by my reflection in the full-length mirror: my
long, gently curling hair, the swelling illusion beneath
the bodice of my dress, the smooth, trim whiteness of my
ankles below the hem of my gown, the smartness of my high
heels. I wanted to stare at this marvelous creature for
hours.
"JoAnna looks lovely today," Mistress said, also gazing at
my reflection in the tall mirror. "Like a young, innocent
virgin on her wedding day."
Mistress reached down and placed my thick leather collar
around my neck, then pulled it tight and fastened the
buckle in the back. Gripping the collar from the side,
Mistress pulled me back and forced my face up to hers. She
kissed me, her teeth biting into my lower lip.
Her face still close to mine, she said, "What a lovely gift
you are."
After blindfolding and binding me to my chair in our half
finished basement, Mistress told me that she would be gone
for several hours. When she returned, she told me, my - our
- initiation would begin. Until she returned I was to
remain utterly still and think only of her. I was to think
only of how I now belonged to her, of how I must be
completely, utterly under her control and of how I must do
precisely what she commanded when she returned.
Something soft curls around my ankle, startling me out of
my reverie of remembrance. It is Eva, our cat. She purrs
against my shoe, then meows some mysterious request I am
powerless to grant. I wonder how long I have been here,
waiting for Mistress to return. Beneath the blindfold my
left eyebrow itches. My lovely high heels are a bit too
small for me and both my feet feel pinched. Eva vanishes
from around my feet. A moment later I hear the soft thud as
she leaps onto the couch across from me. I can hear her
softly licking her fur.
I remember the beginning; the first step that my wife and I
took that began our journey to this day. "I know your
secret," she had said. "I know what you do when I'm not
here." We were in bed together just beginning the
preliminaries of making love. I froze, uncertain what to do
or say. I couldn't breathe. She put her hand behind my
neck, pulled my face roughly up to hers. Slipping her body
half over mine she looked down at me and whispered. "I
found your magazines. I found your clothes, too. It took a
little detective work, but I know everything now."
I was so frightened. I was, for a brief instant, utterly
certain that she would leave me. I tried to summon up the
speech I had prepared months before for just such a moment
of revelation. The words died in my throat. None of the
explanations, none of the reassurances, seemed to matter
now.
"Is that what you really want?" she said, her eyes wide,
"To be a woman's slave?
To be humiliated, to be tortured?"
I turned away from her and began to cry. There was no way
to explain it to her. How can you explain wanting such a
thing? I began imagining the sordid details of the end of
our marriage: the angry silences, the hurried packing of
boxes, the lawyers' offices, the stilted conversation about
what to do with the house.
"Is it? Is that what you want?" Her voice was suddenly
harsh and loud. "Look at me and tell me!" She pulled my
face around to hers. "Answer me!" She pushed a knee into my
groin. "Do you want to be a slave? To wear a bra and
panties, stockings, and lick my feet?"
I felt faint; I could not answer. She reached down and
raked my naked thigh with her long, red nails. The pain was
so intense I twisted toward her. Our faces were now only
inches apart. I looked away. Her nails released their grip
on my flesh but she did not remove her hand.
"Answer me," she whispered. "Do you want to be my slave?"
I finally summoned the courage to look up at her. Her eyes
were wide and fierce. She was breathing hard. Her flesh
felt hot against mine. She was trembling. Her nails began
once again to dig into my thigh. The tidal wave of pure,
irresistible emotion came with no warning whatsoever. In
one blinding instant I was totally transformed.
Submerged in total, blissful and certain surrender, I said
simply, humbly, "Yes."
"Yes? Yes, what?" Her nails began sliding up toward my
balls.
"Yes, Mistress?" I guessed, my face burning with
embarrassment.
"Tell me what you want. Say it now!"
"I want to be your slave, Mistress." Her breath scalded my
cheek. I felt both powerless and absurdly free. I snuggled
against her, blindly searching for her breasts with my
mouth. "Please let me always be your slave, Mistress!"
She clutched me to her body with amazing strength. Later
than night she took me, her body arching over mine, her
liberated passion totally consuming me.
I hear someone walking in the hallway above me. The door at
the top of the basement stairs opens; a brief instant later
I feel a soft current of air against my cheeks. Someone is
descending the stairs; I hear the muffled sound of
footsteps on the carpeted steps and an occasional creak.
The familiar sound of high heels approaching me on the wood
floor reassures me that it is Mistress.
"Are you ready, JoAnna?" Her voice is oddly sweet and
tender.
I sense her leaning down to me. Her hair brushes against me
and I hear the soft crinkling sound of our dresses
colliding. I inhale her perfume and want desperately to
kiss her. I hold back, afraid it may be forbidden. Ending
my confusion, her soft lips find mine; the kiss is
unbearably gentle.
"You look so lovely, JoAnna," she murmurs. "Such a sweet
gift."
Slowly, as if enacting some ritual she has rehearsed in her
mind, Mistress releases my ankles and wrists and gently
raises me to my feet. After kissing me again, she takes my
hand in hers and begins leading me toward the stairs.
"Do you belong to me?" Her hand grips mine more tightly.
"Yes, Mistress."
"Totally, without reservation?" Her voice is still tender,
almost maternal. We start up the stairs.
"Yes, Mistress."
"You will do anything that I command? No matter what it may
be?"
We are at the top of the stairs now; I hear her push the
door all the way open. I wonder where she is leading me. I
expect to be led to the left, toward the bedroom. Instead
we turn right.
"Of course, Mistress."
Why, I wonder, are we going to the living room? I grow
uneasy, wondering if the curtains are open. I am suddenly
conscious of how silly I would look to outsiders.
She leads me slowly down the hall. I can hear the
windchimes softly tinkling on the porch. The air here is
warmer than it was in the basement. For an instant I
stumble, one of my high heels catching on the edge of the
living room carpet.
Mistress grasps both my wrists. "Be careful. We're almost
there, darling."
She gently maneuvers me into another chair. In a reversal
of her actions in the basement, she gently fastens another
set of cuffs to my wrists and ankles, then secures my
wrists together behind me and my legs to the bottom of the
chair. Her closeness, the sweet sensualness of her warmth
and smell, calms me. I try to lay my head against her
breasts while she secures my hands but she laughs and
pushes me away. Finished with the work of immobilizing me,
she moves away. After a perceptible pause I hear her sit on
the wide blue sofa in the center of the room.
"JoAnna, dear, I have a surprise for you."
"Yes, Mistress?"
"We are not alone today."
Her words detonate in the pit of my stomach. My palms are
suddenly moist. My chest feels tight. I wonder if she is
lying to me, if this is only a game? We've played out this
fantasy before, but only with words and only in the privacy
of our bed.
"Our new friend thinks you are very pretty. Doesn't that
make you happy, JoAnna?"
I hear someone get up from the couch. I hear someone coming
toward me.
"Would you like a little clue about our mystery guest?"
The nearness of her voice reassures me. I hear the soft
whirr of a zipper, then the subtle sounds of her dress
falling to the carpeted floor. She moves closer, straddling
my legs with hers. Her smell fills my nostrils. I become
excited knowing that Mistress' nakedness is so near.
"Maybe this will help you know," she says softly.
Her fingers are at my mouth. I open my mouth and she slides
three fingers between my lips. I immediately recognize the
taste of her cunt. Eagerly, I lick up her wet, warm gift.
"Notice anything different, JoAnna?" There is a mocking
tone to her voice. "No?
Maybe I need to probe a little deeper for you, then."
Her hand returns to my face. This time I smell a foreign
odor. Salty, almost bitter. It is a taste I have never
experienced before. She pushes her fingers past my lips. I
am stunned; her taste is almost overwhelmed by the other,
salty one. My stomach explodes again. I understand now that
we are not playing a game. I am suddenly tremendously
afraid. I also feel, am instantly ashamed by, the growing
hardness under my gown.
"I told you it would be a day of firsts, didn't I JoAnna?"
Her hand traces a path down my cheek and across my chest.
"Today is the first time I've been unfaithful to you." Now
her hand is sliding up under my skirt, across the bare
flesh above the top of my stocking. "Yes. While you were in
the basement I was being fucked by another man in your
bed."
I squirm against my restraints. My cheeks are on fire.
"Does knowing that excite you as much as you thought it
would?" She finds the answer for herself, gripping my hard
cock through my lace panties. She laughs and releases me.
"What a terrible little slut you are, JoAnna!" She moves
away from me, back to the couch. For a moment there is
silence. "His name is Patrick," she says at last, a dreamy
quality to her voice. "He's sitting here with me now. He's
naked and I'm stroking his cock. It's long and hard and
very pink." As if reading my mind, she continues. "Would
you like to watch, JoAnna? Would you like to watch me
stroke Patrick's cock?"
I can't answer her. I doubt I can say anything. I am
excited past being able to speak. I both curse and bless my
blindfold; without it I don't know if I could bear this
experience.
"Poor JoAnna, she's gone dumb." I hear flesh sliding
against the fabric of the couch. "If you won't talk to me
then I think I'm going to snuggle up and suck Patrick's
cock again, JoAnna."
There is an almost unbearable pause. I can't stand sitting
here, immobile, blind. I want to be free, free to do -
what? I don't know. A thousand fires consume my flesh.
"Oh! It still tastes like me."
I hear unmistakable sucking sounds. Is this real? Is
someone actually with her? Doubts cascade through my mind.
She is very clever; maybe all this is just an elaborate,
well-rehearsed ruse. The uncertainty of what is really
going on excites me even more.
"JoAnna, do you think I should make Patrick's cock come
again?" More sucking sounds from the couch. "I bet you'd
like to see that, wouldn't you - see his cock spurt into my
mouth?"
Yes, it is a delicious ruse, I decide. That's why she's
kept me blindfolded. Of course! She probably has one of our
hard rubber dildos in her mouth, not some stranger's cock.
I admire her creativity. This little drama has been very
exciting. Now that I have deduced the truth I feel that
excitement waning. I don't want to say anything to spoil
her fun but I would like our game to come to an end.
"Yes, Mistress," I say in my most sincere voice. "Please
let me watch you make Patrick's cock spurt." I wonder how
she will proceed; what will be the next step?
"No, JoAnna, I don't think so." I smile, now certain I
understand what is going on.
"Please, Mistress! Let me see you make him come!"
"I'm not being fair. I've already had Patrick's cock once
today." I hear her rising from the couch. "I shouldn't be
so selfish. I should be willing to share his gorgeous, pink
cock with you, JoAnna." She's nearly beside me now. I hear
her feet heavy on the carpet. "Because I love you so much
I'm going to share Patrick's cock with you; I'm going to
let you taste his come."
Her legs straddle mine again. "Now open your sweet little
mouth, JoAnna, and suck Patrick's cock like the sweet
little whore you are."
I open my mouth, ready for the rubber, strap-on dildo I'm
sure she's now wearing.
Something warm, damp and hard parts my lips. I am confused.
My brain explodes. I am about to faint. This is not a
dildo. The room spins around me. I freeze.
"Suck, JoAnna, darling. You know this is what you want.
Suck the wonderful cock I've brought home for you." I feel
Mistress' hand stroking my neck, my cheek, my throat. Her
voice is gentle, sweet, tender and pleading. "It's alright,
darling. You know this is what you want, what we both
want."
I stop thinking. I am past thinking. I let my mouth relax.
My tongue tentatively probes the warm surface of Patrick's
cock. So smooth! I slide my lips along the surface. It
reminds of me playing the clarinet. Mistress releases my
hands from behind me. Without thinking, I bring them up to
Patrick's balls. They feel warm and heavy. I let my fingers
slide up to the hairy base of his cock.
"Good girl, JoAnna!" Mistress is almost laughing. "Show
Patrick what a good blow job you can give."
I grasp the base of his cock with my hands and begin to bob
up and down on him. I'm beginning to find his taste
intoxicating. I can't get enough of it. I swirl the tip of
my tongue around the head of his penis. My own cock is hard
against my thigh. I want him to come. I want him to come in
my mouth.
"Make him come JoAnna," Mistress whispers to me.
I feel her hand again under my gown. Her fingers encircle
my cock and she begins to jerk me off.
I take him as deeply into my mouth as I can, but my lips
only manage to get a little more than halfway down the
shaft of his cock. I pull back until only the tip is
between my lips, then plunge down again. I feel his legs
shudder. I repeat my maneuver again and again and again,
each time a little more of him slides down my throat. I
hear a groan and it isn't Mistress.
Beneath my gown her hand is now working me like a piston. I
know I am on the brink of my own orgasm. Patrick ejaculates
with unexpected suddenness. The first blast of semen into
my mouth puts me, too, over the edge. Mistress laughs as I
cover her hand with my come. His taste, the taste of his
come in my mouth, is bitter. I might gag. I am overwhelmed
with both pride and shame in the same instant. Patrick's
cock softens under my tongue and I feel a stab of regret
that he, that both of us, came so quickly. His cock pulls
slowly out of my mouth. His legs leave mine. Mistress
strokes my shrinking penis and gently kisses me ear.
She bends around to kiss my mouth, to share Patrick's
taste. Our tongues pass Patrick's semen back and forth.
"Such a good little slut," she murmurs. "I love you so
much, so very, very much." I slump sideways until my cheek
is resting against her chest. "You are such a very good
slave, JoAnna."
Her words please me; I am proud to be her slave. I feel
suddenly quite sleepy.
"If you are a very good slave, JoAnna, perhaps the next
time Patrick visits I'll let you watch him fuck me. Would
you like that, my little slut? Would you like to watch
Patrick drive his cock into your wife?"
A shiver races through me as I imagine what she suggests. I
kiss her bare arm.
"Yes, Mistress."
"And if you are extra-special good, my darling, I may dress
you in your prettiest stockings and panties and let Patrick
fuck you while I watch. Yes, I think I would like to watch
Patrick take your virgin ass."
I cannot speak. I am feather-light against her cooling
flesh. I am now totally and only JoAnna, Mistress' slave. I
hold her with my little remaining strength and nod.
"Come, slave," Mistress says tenderly, lifting me up. "Let
me take you to bed."
I savor the lingering taste in my mouth as she leads me
toward our bedroom. I am so sleepy I can barely walk. I
cannot wait to dream.
Kierra
- 22.09.2020
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