Face Mask
- 4 years ago
- 25
- 0
The Mask free porn video
THE MASK
I am blindfolded again and waiting for Mistress to return. The
house is cool; a heavy night rain broke the string of hot days
and muggy nights that made us regret our decision not to install
central air conditioning when we remodeled the house. The cuffs
that restrain my arms and legs are unusually tight. I have lost
feeling in the thumb and index finger of my right hand. Beneath
my pink, cotton dress, beneath my heavily padded brassiere, my
chest begins to itch. My mind wanders; I think about work, about
the stack of unanswered mail that will still be on my desk
Monday morning. Maybe, I think, this was a mistake. Maybe we
should have accepted Gene and Doris' invitation to spend the
weekend on the lake.
It has been almost a month since Mistress gave me to Patrick. In
the interim she has escalated her dominance. It is no longer
just a Saturday afternoon diversion. Now I submit to her every
day.
"From now on," she had said the day after Patrick had taken my
mouth, "when you come home from work you will immediately become
JoAnna." She had punctuated the command with a hard blow to my
thigh. "I want you dressed and on your knees every night when I
arrive, do you understand?" Caught by surprise, I had not
answered her. Her hand had flashed down onto my exposed flesh
again, harder than before. "Do you understand?" Her voice was
harsh, but not as harsh as the look in her eyes.
"Yes," I said meekly, both excited and appalled at the prospect
of being JoAnna for her every day.
That next week established our new ritual. I would get home
usually around 5:30 or so, an hour before Mistress would come
through the door. As instructed, I would immediately strip off
my suit and tie, shower, shave my face, underarms and legs, then
pull JoAnna's clothes from the closet. I would carefully put on
stockings, heels, a garter belt, brassiere, and whatever dress
or skirt and blouse Mistress had picked out for me the night
before. Once I was dressed I would carefully fit my wig, then
spend fifteen minutes or so anxiously waiting for the sound of
her keys in the lock. When I would be certain she was at the
door I would kneel beside the living room couch, my head down,
my trembling hands clasped in my lap, and try to still my racing
pulse.
Each day had been the same. She would come through the door and
totally ignore me for what seemed like an eternity. She would
read the mail or fix herself a drink. Sometimes she would
disappear into our bedroom for fifteen or twenty minutes.
Finally, just when I would be on the brink of despair, she would
speak to me.
"Stand up." Her voice was always sharp. "Let me inspect you." I
would rise and then, at her command, turn around slowly. "Lift
your skirt." I would comply.
"Your stockings are crooked," she would announce, or, "your
panties are soiled," or, "your wig isn't straight." Whatever my
infraction, the punishment was the same. I would be pushed down
and forced to kneel at the base of the couch with my torso flat
against the hard cushions. She would then raise my skirt, jerk
down my panties and administer fifteen hard blows to my exposed
backside. If I cried out, made any sound at all, she would spank
me another dozen times.
"You may now worship my feet," she would say when my punishment
was over. While I would lie on the floor beneath her, her
stockinged feet in my hands, my lips caressing her toes and the
soft spaces in between them, she would silently watch television
or read the newspaper. Sometimes, if I was not performing to her
satisfaction, she would slap my face and issue precise
instructions. However much I learned to fear her spankings, I
came to yearn for the half hour or so she would allow me free
reign with her feet. For reasons I could never hope to explain,
I found stroking, sucking and kissing the pungent flesh calmly
intoxicating.
"Enough," she would finally say, "I'm hungry. Fix me something
to eat." I would then prepare her a meal. I was not allowed to
eat until she was completely finished with her plate. If what I
fixed was not to her liking, I would once more be spanked. After
the meal she would again command me to kneel at her feet while
she watched television or read.
Only at the end of each evening did the ritual vary. Some
nights, perhaps half the time, she would hike up her dress,
spread her legs and roughly pull my head into her crotch. "Make
me come," she would say, pushing my face deep into her. On other
evenings, she would order me to lie flat on my back. "Raise your
skirt, slut. Masturbate for me." When I would come she would
feed me my own ejaculate. "Do you miss Patrick?" she'd ask
softly, a half-smile playing across her lips. "Would you like to
suck his cock for me again?"
It began raining; I could hear the blurred staccato of the heavy
drops striking the roof and the bedroom window. My hand was
still numb. My chest still itched. Why had she secured me so
tightly, I wondered? I wanted her to return. I wasn't at all
certain I was in the mood for this today. Had we gone too far?
What had started months ago as a sexual game, as a wicked dash
of needed spice in our relationship, was now starting to be
frighteningly serious. Sharp thunder, alarmingly close, rattled
the house. Images of an old Boris Karloff film flashed through
my mind in grainy black and white. Who was the monster here, I
wondered? Was I her creation now; or was she still mine?
Thunder ripped through the house again. I started to sweat,
imagining trying to escape a burning house bound and dressed as
I was. The rain was crashing against the house, the angry,
ragged roar underscored by the thunder's deeper timbre.
Something soft curled around my leg. The cat. Eva's plaintive,
hoarse meowing was barely audible against the din of the storm.
Another crack of ominously close thunder rattled the mirror
against the opposite wall. Eva leapt into my lap, her claws
digging painfully into my thighs. "It's alright," I said,
wishing I could stroke her or hold her. "She'll be home soon."
Suddenly the weight of the cat vanished from my lap. Confused,
I called her name. Warm fingers stroked my cheek. If I had not
be bound securely to the chair, I would have jumped six feet.
"Mistress?" I called out anxiously, aware of my total
vulnerability.
"I'm here, love." Her voice was soft, light as feathers.
"There's nothing to be afraid of. The storm is breaking,
darling." Her voice, her touch, calmed me. The warm fingers
moved across my cheek, played with my lips, then slipped over my
chin and onto my neck. I shivered. "Does that feel good,
darling?"
I nodded my head, remembering her order not to speak. For an
instant the hand vanished, then it's warm, reassuring touch
returned, this time on my knee. "Your legs look lovely today,"
Mistress said as the hand glided toward the inside of my thigh.
"Those stockings are a perfect shade for you, darling." Finger
tips brushed the thin strip of fabric covering my balls. I felt
myself harden. I hoped she would kiss me; my mouth opened in
anticipation. The finger tips became a hand cupping my penis
through the slick panties. "Are you getting hard, JoAnna?"
Mistress' voice was half laugh and half whisper. "Did you
imagine me doing this to you while I was gone?" The hand slid
over the tip of my penis, pulled down the waist band of my
panties and then returned to my cock. The touch of her flesh
directly on mine was electric.
"I'm going to remove your blindfold, JoAnna." I bent my head
forward, making it easier for her to release the velcro seal.
Whatever my misgivings before, now I yearned to look into her
eyes and tell her I was totally hers, her slave, to be used
however she wished.
The blindfold dropped from my face. I cried out, shocked and
frightened. I was staring not at Mistress' face but at a bright
red and black, hideous, grimacing mask. The painted eyes, so
close to mine, were huge red circles. As my eyes adjusted to the
dim light in the room I realized this masked figure kneeling
before me was male. Beneath the mask his shoulders and chest
were bare, hairless and heavily muscled. I tried to shrink away
from this frightening stranger whose hand still gripped my now
shrunken penis.
"JoAnna," Mistress said, stepping from behind me. She was only
wearing a plain white slip, sheer hose and white heels. "You
shouldn't be frightened of our guest; you've met him before. As
I remember, darling, you liked him very much!" The masked figure
released me, stood up and bowed in an exaggerated, almost
comical fashion. He was, except for the mask, completely naked.
Relatively tall and well proportioned, he appeared to be no
older than thirty-five. Beneath his flat, tanned stomach his
flaccid cock was dark pink against a nest of almost blond pubic
hair. Mistress stepped beside him, took his penis in her hand
and held it out for my inspection. "Doesn't this look familiar,
darling?"
"Yes," she said, "it's Patrick. I've invited him to play with us
again." The masked figure moved back a step or two from me and
slightly to one side. Mistress continued holding his cock. As I
watched, fascinated by the contrast between her pale, red tipped
fingers and the darker hue of his flesh, his penis came to life,
lengthening and stiffening in her hand. "Isn't it lovely,
JoAnna?" Mistress slowly dropped to her knees in front of the
masked figure. Looking directly at me, her eyes wide and
sparkling, she began stroking Patrick's cock. "God! I just love
the way he feels!" She leaned into him and held his penis
against her cheek. "So hard, so soft all at the same time."
Still looking at me, she pulled the organ toward her parted
lips. Her pink tongue lightly caressed the tip of his cock. "Do
you remember how good it tasted, darling?" She smiled at me,
then turned her head and swallowed as much of his cock as she
could.
I strained to breathe. Emotions raced through me like wild
animals fleeing a fire: shock, fear, anger, hurt, amazement,
excitement and, finally, pride. Pride that my Mistress could
seduce such a handsome lover. Her eyes now closed, Mistress
continued to gently suck on Patrick's cock, one hand on his
shaft and the other cupping his balls. Now I felt another
emotion: jealousy. I wanted to be in her place, on my knees,
with his cock in my mouth. My own penis rose beneath my panties.
With apparent reluctance, Mistress released Patrick's penis,
then turned to smile at me. "Darling, Patrick is going to fuck
me now and I want you to watch. I want you to see his dick slide
into me." She pulled away from her masked lover, then lowered
herself to the carpeted floor. Now on her hands and knees, her
body parallel to my feet, her face to my right, she looked up at
me. "Am I close enough, JoAnna? I want you to have the best
possible view." She looked magnificent; her body taut beneath
the unadorned slip, her thighs and calves all graceful curves in
nylon. I wanted her. I imagined the tight, wet grip of her cunt.
It would be agony having to watch someone else take her."While
Patrick fucks me I'm going to tell you how it feels, darling;
I'm going to share every sensation, every emotion, with you."
Mistress glanced up at the masked figure and he quickly stepped
around her. His cock, now fully erect, bobbled as he moved.
Kneeling behind her, he lifted her slip, exposing the twin,
white globes of her ass. "I can't wait," she said to me, her
eyes half-closed. "The anticipation is cold fire. My nipples are
hard; my mouth is dry." Mistress shifted her body, spreading her
legs slightly farther apart. Patrick moved closer to her,
caressed the bare flesh of her thighs and ass. Mistress shivered
as his hand slipped between her legs.
"I'm so wet. I wish you could feel me, darling; I'm a river."
One of his fingers slipped into her. "Oh, God, he's teasing me;
his touch is so light." Mistress shook her head, then smiled at
me. "Now he's touching my clit," her head came up, her eyes
closed. "Teasing me again, spreading fire down my legs, to my
tits." Patrick moved still closer to her. Now his thighs touched
hers. He leaned backwards. His cock looked bigger, looked huge.
He grasped himself with one hand and began moving toward her
again. Mistress stiffened, anticipating what was coming next.
She looked steadily at me, biting her lower lip, her face frozen
in concentration. "His cock is touching me now, darling. He's
using the tip, running it across my cunt lips." She pushed her
ass back suddenly, trying to force him to enter her. Patrick
just as quickly pulled away. "Please, oh, please Patrick. Don't
tease me anymore. Give me your cock. Please, give it to me now."
Ignoring her plea, he reached forward, began stroking her back.
His hands slid around her sides until he was clutching her
breasts. "I want him so bad!" her eyes, looking up at me, where
wide and tinged with sadness. "He's pinching my nipples. It
hurts," she shivered again, "but I love it."
He penetrated her with sudden, shocking force, his hips striking
her ass so hard that her pale flesh rippled beneath the assault.
Mistress screamed and fell forward, her arms collapsing beneath
her. "He's so deep," she moaned, "so big." Patrick did not move.
"No one has ever filled me up the way he does."
Her words knocked the breath out of me. "It's like no one has
ever fucked me before." Her voice was soft, airy, half moan. I
shrank against the back of the chair, trying to ignore the knot
of pain in my stomach. "Oh, darling, if you had a cock like this
I'd be your slave." Her ass shook as she pushed back against her
lover. "With you sex was always," she paused, "adequate. I
didn't mind it; sometimes I even enjoyed it." Patrick at last
pulled away from her. I could just see the glistening shaft of
his now massive cock between their thighs. He pistoned into her;
she moaned again. "But with him it's so different. So
consuming." Her lover began fucking her with a steady, forceful
rhythm. "Oh, Jesus, I wish you could feel this, feel what his
cock is like inside me. Hard, huge; it fills me completely. Not
just my cunt. All of me, every inch of me." Her head shook. "Oh,
God, he owns me." She looked away from me, dropped her head to
the carpet.
I listened to their breathing, the soft slapping of their bodies
coming together. There was a slight sheen of sweat spreading
over his chest and shoulders. The odor of her cunt filled my
nostrils. I wanted desperately to be released, to join them, to
be them. Beneath the swirls of my cotton dress I was stone. My
own dick, smaller than his, oozed in sympathy with the lovers at
my feet.
"I'm going to come soon," Mistress said between soft whimpers.
"He's going to make me come." Her face peered at me from beneath
cascading hair. "I never came with you, darling." I was stunned;
she couldn't be telling the truth. "I'm sorry. I wanted to; I
tried very hard to come." Patrick quickened his pace. "I used to
think it was my fault," her voice sounded far away, "until I met
Patrick." She pushed her ass hard against him. "That first time.
I wish I could tell you, make you understand, darling; it was
like being reborn."
She looked away. I watched his hard, tanned body drive into
hers. She began calling his name. I almost didn't recognize her
voice. She said his name louder, more frequently. Now she was
almost shrieking. He was pulling further out of her now before
driving back into her. "Make me yours, Patrick," Mistress
whispered, her voice childlike. "Make me yours again, Patrick,
please!" She was shaking violently now. "Oh, yes, yes, Patrick,
yes, lover, yes!" Her head twisted toward me. I could only see
one eye and part of her mouth. "Patrick, I'm yours, just yours,
only yours!"
I closed my eyes. I could no longer bear to look at her. I was
crying. She seemed so far away from me. I felt totally, utterly
lost. Despite the pain, because of the pain, I had to look at
her again. She was still looking at me. "I'm coming, JoAnna!
Patrick's making me come now!" She screamed his name again. Her
body jerked. Patrick pushed hard against her, his upper body
curling over her back, the lower edge of the hideous mask
touching her neck. His name became a plaintive mantra for her,
the single word tumbling from her lips repeatedly as rapidly as
she could mouth it.
The image of their suddenly stilled bodies, their merged flesh,
the smell of their completed coupling, scalded me, searing away
all thought. Beneath the pale pink, cotton dress Mistress had
purchased for me and ordered me to wear, inside my pale blue,
lace-trimmed panties, my cock erupted. The orgasm pushed me into
near unconsciousness. It was only later I learned that I, too,
had screamed Patrick's name again and again and again and again,
my voice harmonizing with hers in the fading afternoon light.
Stevie
- 24.10.2021
- 16
- 0
The Consultant and the Mask
- 4 years ago
- 23
- 0
Legend of Zelda The Gerudo Mask
- 3 years ago
- 27
- 0
