The Count of Monte CristoChapter 58 M Noirtier de Villefort
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Relaxing back in the armchair, I waited for the first of the members and their guests to arrive. Meanwhile my attention was focused on my plaything. Her beauty enhanced by her submission, the hints of acceptance and rebellion only just beneath the surface. My girl has spirit... !! Even know, naked, collared and cuffed, the hood totally blocking sight and muffling every sound. She kneels, holding the required position perfectly, immobile, yet aware, poised not to defy, but to obey.
Others have knelt there before her, some bound so tight each breath was restricted, chained to the floor, the touch of the cold steel of the cattle prod on the back of the neck reminded one that defiance offered only excruciating pain. But not my plaything. Her spirit held her fears in check, no signs of panic, but equally no beaten cowed automaton.
My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the first members. Each dominant greeting me formally, each slave uneasy in my presence, perhaps dreading the thought of spending time in my dungeon? Perhaps hating to admit that secretly they wanted such a fate? All paid close attention to my plaything, the dominants discussing her, praising her form, her training, her looks and that perfect ass.
My staff attended to each guest, providing refreshments, as I did my part as hostess. The afternoon meetings are very much a social event for the members, a chance to show off their submissive, display a newly taught skill, or simply relax in the company of like-minded others. More intense displays and scenes were restricted to the evening meetings, as my plaything would soon find out.
Once everyone had arrived, I took up the crop once more, guiding my plaything to her feet, then directing her as we circulated the room, stopping to exchange pleasantries with the various members. All wanted to do more than just admire my girl, the yellow tag that I had earlier attached to the front of her collar signalled that touching was permitted, but only touching, not penetration. By the time we had circulated amongst the guests, my plaything had been thoroughly 'felt up', I doubted there was anywhere on her body that had not been caressed, pinched, lightly spanked, even licked or nibbled by submissives under instruction.
Having circulated, I guided my plaything back to her kneeling position besides my chair. As I sat down, '3' brought a selection of canapés and two glasses which she placed on the side table within easy reach. I sipped my drink, a chilled apple juice, and sampled the canapés whilst exchanging pleasantries with those seated nearby. One hand gently caressing my plaything, my soft gentle touches paused only to feed her, or hold the glass of water to her lips.
As the conversation continued, I wondered just how much attention my girl was paying to what was being said. I knew that whilst the hood muffled all sounds, it did not prevent hearing completely. Nothing my plaything could overhear could affect her training, so any snippets that were understood would do no harm. A number of dominants inquired if my plaything was to be '7', none received an answer, it was far to early to know yet. My reputation ensured that none pressed for further details. None of them cared to cross Mistress 'One'.
Time for my plaything to provide some entertainment, and to continue her training of course. A few taps of the crop had her standing with her back to the padded dais. On my command, my girl sat, reclining almost horizontal as each leg was raised and placed in the padded cups, opening her wide and giving anyone who cared to look a clear view of her sex. Meanwhile Gore had joined us, as instructed, taking position at her head, hands griping the leather hood as his cock plundered her mouth. This time however, his thrusts were not brutal, he allowed my plaything to become accustomed to his thrusts, shallow and slow at first, gradually building in depth and speed as she relaxed and responded, lips closing around his length, tongue curling around the engorged head of his cock on every outward stroke.
As instructed, Gore continued until my playthings hips began to undulate, her arousal obvious to all, only then did he withdraw, moving to stand between her thighs, his rigid cock's weight resting upon her clit. My plaything was ready, with agonising slowness the cock-head slid across her clit, the shaft's motion drawing her clit from the protective hood, her hips moving to try and speed the process, but Gore held her hips in his grasp, nothing would prevent him from following his instructions precisely.
The swollen cock-head slipped down, parting her already open lips even further, smearing her arousal the length of her opening, until he stopped, poised at the opening to her cunt. My plaything cried out, a cry of need? Of submission? Of simple lust? Her moist warmth now wet and hot, a trickle running down to drip onto the padding beneath her.
Utter silence settled over the room, my playthings body commanding everyone's attention. Her thigh muscles flexed, hips rocking, she wanted his cock. Gore held her, following her every move, his cock-head imobile, resting at the wetness of her opening, poised to impale her, drive his cock deep inside her with a single thrust, her juices easing his way, her body welcoming him. He never moved.
My command broke the silence, a single word. "Now." His hips rolled and he thrust into her in one smooth stroke, stopping, his cock buried full length, in my plaything's ass. Her cry would have filled the room, except that just as Gore drove into her, '3' straddled her face, muffling any response, so that my plaything's scream opened her mouth to fit '3' cunt. My girl would have plenty of time to practise timing her breathing, '3' would remain in position for the next hour.
When I finally allowed Gore to cum deep inside my plaything, he was fighting to retain control, his body, like my plaything's, covered in a sheen of perspiration...
After some time kneeling at her side I hear voices and steps around us. Of course I have no idea who it is and what they're doing. However, I know that I'm sitting here naked with my legs spread, so I guess they look at me, probably talk about me. I certainly would look at a hooded, naked girl kneeling at the feet of a leather clad lady.
I don't get a lot of what is being said. Sometimes I hear 'plaything' but mostly it's just pleasantries and greetings. It doesn't matter too much anyway what's being said. I figure that as long as it's not said by her, I don't have to care anyway. Besides, I'm much more interested in what's being done, and since nothing is being done, neither good nor evil, I'm quite relaxed. Or, to be precise, as relaxed as one can be in such circumstances.
After a while the crop taps my chin and get up. I can hear and feel people all around us as she guides me around the room. Then I jump as someone fondles my tit and pinches the nipple. From then on, it's 'touch the girl'. I feel hands all over my body, soft and tender hands gently caressing me, others fondling and pinching and slapping me roughly. It is not entirely unpleasant. The sensation of being at their disposal, to be at the center of attention, is not without effect. I'm not exactly enjoying it, but it could be worse. It gets even better. I'm standing in the presenting position as I hear someone ask about a number 7 or something like that but can't hear her response and the next thing that happens is that I feel hair on my thighs and hands on my buttocks, pulling me forward until my pussy is touched by an expert tongue. It doesn't take the brain of a genius to know that I'm being licked by a woman. It's just different, subtler, more gentle. Better, to sum it up.
Alas, the licking stops all too soon and I'm being led forward again, probably to the next group of people. By this time I don't care about all those people anymore. I know that she's the only one who's important here, at least for me. I dunno why I am so sure about that. Female intuition, maybe. The others seem to be just guests and after a while I figure out that I'm not the only plaything here. Judging from what little I hear they seem to be Masters and Mistresses with their slaves like ... like ... Mistress and me.
Mistress and me. Now. There it is. The words ring in my head and it's just as well that I don't have anything else to do but stand here and being felt up and down. I'd definitely fuck up any command right now as my mind processes the thought. She's the mistress, I'm the slave. That's what this is all about. I guess my subconsciousnes knew it all along, but only now did it allow the thought to enter my consciousness.
Mistress and slave. Ok. So far, so bad. I don't want to be anybody's slave.
The question is, can I do something about it? No, not likely. So far, even worse.
Next question: Is there a way to keep the unpleasant moments to a minimum? Yup. Obedience, obedience, obedience.
Next: Can I do something about it to appease her or even make it easier for me, aside from pure obedience? Maybe. Maybe if I try to do everything I'm told to do not just good enough but better than she expects.
Can I pull that through? Probably not.
And, the last question: Where and when will it all end? No freakin' idea.
My line of thought is interrupted by a tap on my left thigh and one on my ass and soon I'm kneeling again besides her while she feeds me tasty little canapés. In between she caresses my neck. Whether it is by chance or whether she had found somehow out about that spot I don't know. I do know that if I'm being kissed and caressed at that spot in the curve between neck and shoulder, just a bit to the front, above the clavicle, I'll go all soft and mellow and in no time I'll start to purr like a kitten. A kitten with a tingling pussy, that is. I guess even if she hadn't known about that spot before she does now, so far she has struck me as a very keen observer.
A little time later she leads me across the room and soon I'm on my back, my legs tied to some kind of stirrups, spread wide open. I feel myself blush as I realize that I am completely exposed to all those people, but I don't have time to be embarrassed for long, because a cock is shoved into my mouth. This time I'm being fucked much slower and gentler, and I do what I always do when I have a cock in my mouth: I lick it and suck it.
I cannot help my body's reaction, my hips begin to move and my pussy lips are probably already glistening with my juices. Just when I think it's about time for the bloke to cum he withdraws. Poor guy, I think, probably he'd have liked to cum in my mouth, but then I feel him standing between my legs and then I feel his cock ever so slowly glide over my mound, stroke my clit, part the lips, press against the entrance of my pussy and all my pity for the guy is gone in a second. Instead, I begin to feel sorry for myself as he just waits instead of pushing inside me. I try to search for his cock, to impale myself on it, but his hands on my hips hold me in place. My breathing is heavy now, soft moans escape my mouth and I know that I'm behaving like a bitch in heat, a cockhungry slut, but there's nothing I can do about it. I want to scream "ram it in and fuck me! fuck me! fuck me!" but I remain silent, waiting, longing and aching for him to enter me.
Then I hear her command 'now' and just as I want to exhale with the joy of finally getting fucked I feel the cock penetrating my ass. "Nooooooo!" I start to scream but my mouth is covered by a warm and moist pussy before any sound can be heard. After some time I get the knack of how to breathe and I relax a bit. I know the assfucking will just get me hot hot hot but not get me to an orgasm and for a moment I am tempted to bring my hands to my pussy. But I fear the consequences. This is not about me enjoying myself. This is a demonstration to show me that I'm just an object, used by whoever to satisfy their needs and desires. But that doesn't mean I can't at least try and please the girl and so I bring my hands up to her buttocks instead of my pussy and press her onto me, licking her as good as I can. She tastes deliciously and after a while I can feel her shudder as an orgasm washes over her. Many more follow until finally the man who's fucking my ass shoots his cum deep into me and the girl lifts her pussy from my face.
I'm drenched in sweat, horny and aroused like never before, I can feel my juices trickle over my thighs and all I want is to cum. I'd do anything if I'd be allowed to cum and get relief. For a second I debate whether I should beg her, Mistress, to allow me an orgasm. It would mean another step down into submission, but at the moment I don't give a damn about that.
Eventually '3' stepped away from my plaything, but first she took each of my girl's wrists and used the snap links to secure them to the waist chain. On legs weakened by numerous orgasms, '3' slipped from the room to carry out my instructions. Nearly two hours later the last of the members and their guests departed. All the while my plaything had remained exposed, open to anyone who cared to look, wrists secured to her waist chain, hands unable to reach her pussy. Her need was obvious, the small undulations of her hips, the beads of arousal that formed at the entrance to her cunt, pooled, then trickled down, over the puckered, tender rosebud so recently plundered, to drip onto the padding, forming a pool of liquid desire.
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