Heaven And Hell At 1134 Erinyes Lane free porn video
I stopped my cart outside the office of the Director of Personnel for my employer; I work in the mail room and deliver to the various offices after the sorting is complete.
Miss Lawrence, Carolyn Lawrence is the Director. She’s a tall thin woman of around forty-five. She’s attractive in a severe dark sinister way, her hair is coal black, there’s not a hint gray, it’s cut short in an masculine style. She wears no make up and always dresses in black, skirts or pants suits, her breasts are small, pert mounds and she has slim boyish hips but her most outstanding feature is her eyes. So dark they appear black and when she holds you in their gaze it’s almost as though she can see through you.
She was away from her desk, I walked in and lay delivered her mail, I’d turned to leave when I heard a sound.
It was a tinkling sound that I followed with my ears, there was a door behind her desk, it was slightly ajar, I’d located the source of the sound. The door blocked my view but I noticed that I could see, in the mirror. Oh my God I thought, it was her private lavatory. The sound I’d heard was Miss Lawrence urinating. She was sitting on the toilet her skirt was rucked up over her hips and her pantyhose and panties were pooled at her feet.
I just stared in awe; I watched as she wiped, when she stood I saw her black bush. It was trimmed but full. She bent and pulled up her panties then repeated the motion for her pantyhose; finally she smoothed her skirt over her hips. She checked her appearance in the mirror and returned to her desk.
My face gave me away, she read my expression, turned and looked at the rest room door and looked back at me.
“Shut the door Terry,” she hissed.
I’m Terry, Terry Taylor, eighteen year old mail boy, and I’m fucked. I shut the door.
“Miss Lawrence I’m so…,” I stuttered.
She cut me off.
“I know what you are Terry, you’re a peeping Tom, you’re sorry all right, sorry you got caught.”
“Did you like watching Terry? Did you like what you saw?”
I stood mutely.
“Terry my damned question wasn’t rhetorical, I expect an answer. Did you like watching me?” She railed.
I nodded my head saying, “Yes Miss Lawrence, I liked what I saw.”
“What did you see Terry, what did you like?”
I sighed, “I saw you sitting on the toilet Miss Lawrence, I saw you clean yourself and then you stood up and pulled up your panties and pantyhose.”
She had a malevolent look in those black eyes, “What did you like best Terry?”
I was embarrassed but she was going to force me to answer, “When you wiped Miss Lawrence, when you touched yourself.”
She sat and pushed her chair away from her desk, “Come here,” she ordered.
I wanted to run, flee, but I couldn’t, she held with her gaze. I walked slowly to her, I stood beside her, I was terrified but, strangely, I was aroused. I was tenting my slacks.
As she unfastened my belt, pulled down my zipper and let my slacks fall to the floor. I now stood there in my tighty whities, stiff as a board. I had no idea what was coming next.
“Terry, it looks to me like you’re enjoying this, are you?” She asked as she lowered my underwear, my cock sprung to attention.
Miss Lawrence stood, raised her skirt to her hips, sat down and grabbed my , “Terry, you’re a naughty boy, a peeping Tom and you deserve to be punished.”
She jerked on my cock and I fell across her lap. I fell with my cock between her open thighs, she clamped them shut, trapping me.
“Oh yes, you’re a naughty boy Terry,” she whispered as she began to spank me.
“Naughty boy, naughty boy,” she intoned as she beat my ass black and blue.
My eyes were tearing, my mouth was whimpering but my cock was raging. She hit me again and I spurted, uncontrollably, inexplicitly, I shot off.
My first thought was, Oh Christ Terry, you’re dead now, she’ll kill you.
She felt the pulsing of my cock, how could she avoid it, she had me trapped between her legs. I just knew I wouldn’t survive but she quit spanking and reached across me to her desk. She wrote something on a slip of paper.
Miss Lawrence opened her thighs releasing me and said, “Get up.”
I stood, she said, “Get dressed,” I pulled my shorts and slacks back up.
She was looking from me to her thighs, thighs that were now coated with a white creamy substance, my semen, and then back at me.
“You’re not only a naughty boy; you’re a nasty boy, too.”
She locked those evil eyes on me, handed me the slip of paper she’d written on and said, eight o’clock tonight and don’t be late, now get out of my sight.”
I fled her office, grabbed my cart and continued my rounds, I was afraid to read what she’d written.
When I’d finished I stopped in the cafeteria for a cuppa and my curiosity got the better of me, I unfolded the slip of paper. All it said was 1134 Erinyes Lane.
When I got back to my cubbie I Google mapped the address, it was a cul de sac, quite private, there was only one address, 1134.
I should have Googled the street, not just checked for its location; I might have had sense enough to run like hell, you question me, do two things, only two things and you’ll understand where I was going butI couldn’t resist her order, I would be there tonight at eight. But to the two things, first write 1134 on a piece of paper and turn it upside down and read it, second, Google Erinyes. That’s where I was going, that was my unsuspected destiny.
I arrived promptly at eight, the structure confronting me immediately brought to mind the old TV show, “The Munster’s” but that wasn’t intimidating enough, Bram Stoker’s “Dracula,” the Count’s castle might better describe this edifice; I rang the bell expecting a butler with dripping fangs.
Instead, Miss Lawrence answered, she was clad in a blood red robe.
“Please come in Terry,” she invited.
I entered and closed the door.
She started to walk toward the interior of the house, I followed saying, “Thank you Miss Lawrence.”
She spun around, pivoting on what I now noticed were four inch spike heels, from within the folds of the robe she produced a riding crop, she lashed me, I stood in shock, she continued to beat me, screaming,
“At the office I’m Miss Lawrence, here you will call me Mistress Carolyn,” she screeched.
Her blows continued to rain down; I fell to the floor and curled into the fetal position trying to protect myself.
She quit her beating and looked down at me like I was a specimen of an entomologist, a roach or some kind of insect, she sneered, “Better, much better, we know what you are don’t we, Terry, you’re nothing Terry, nothing at all unless I tell you what to be.”
“Strip, everything off now, you pervert, you peeping Tom. Move for your Mistress,” she screeched at me. She hit me again with that riding crop, across my ass and yelled. “Move it.”
I looked up at her, with her standing and me on the floor she looked ten feet tall. She’d shed the red robe and now stood over me, God she was an awesome sight.
She seemed so tall, towering over me as I cringed on the floor, she was clad in leather, black leather, it exposed her breasts, her nipples were rouged, red and swollen, the crotch of her outfit was missing, I could see her labia, even from the floor I could see she was leaking. I thought Valkyrie, God she wasn’t blonde, she didn’t have enormous breasts and she wasn’t astride a horse but she was intimidating, I was fearful of her.
I got out of my clothes and lay prostrated on the floor at her feet, those feet adorned in four inch spike heels.
“Get on your hands and knees slave,” she said.
I obeyed her command and she straddled me, maybe she didn’t have a horse but she had me, she pointed with her crop and I began to crawl.
I carried her on my back, I could feel her bare cunt riding my back, her heat and her moisture were leaking on me. She popped my bottom a couple of times with the crop, not hard, just reminding me who she was.
She guided me through an open doorway into another room. It looked like a house of horrors.
There was what appeared to be a doctor’s examination table complete with stirrups standing to one side, further in was a device that resembled a carpenter’s sawhorse, it was padded and had Velcro restraints affixed to each of the legs.
In the center of the room was a large chair, perhaps a Throne better describes it. She rode me to it and dismounted.
She sat, I was still on hands and knees, she instructed, in a low voice, “Prostrate yourself before your Mistress.”
Evidentially I didn’t move rapidly enough, she leaned forward and struck again with the crop, across my back screaming, “Down, get down.”
Flat on the floor, I lay with tears in my eyes.
“Look at me Terry,” she ordered.
I raised my eyes, she was smiling at me, she said, “You are under my thrall, which will be your name when you are with me here, you will answer to Thrall, do you understand?”
I whimpered, “Yes Mistress.”
“Wonderful Thrall, you may approach; clean my feet.”
I slithered to her and licked her shoe.
“No, no fool, take my shoes off, I want you to lick my feet and suck my toes.”
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