"See you, Mom. I'm heading out to the mall with Carol and Joan," Stacey hollered as she headed for the back door. "Oh hey, Greg. I didn't hear you come in. Got anything planned for today?" Stacey asked as she entered the kitchen.
"Nah. Just dropped in for some breakfast. Probably head over to the basketball courts this afternoon to shoot some hoops," replied Greg with a grin.
"Alright. I'll see you later. Have fun." Stacey waved goodbye as she ran out the door.
It was the first week of summer vacation. Stacey and Greg had just finished grade 11 and were looking forward to a relaxing summer before starting grade 12. They had known each other their entire lives, and, until the last few years, had been best of friends. They were still close, but over time had begun to drift slowly apart as their interests, and friends, took them in different directions. It hadn't always been that way.
Stacey Clark was an only c***d and lived with her mother. She never knew her father, since he had passed away when she was only 1 year old. Around that time, Greg Adams and his f****y had moved in next door. Since Greg was only a year older than Stacey, they became instant friends. They did everything together, including going to the same school. However, when Greg was 10 years old, his parents fell on hard times and were f***ed to sell the house, and move to another part of town. Greg and Stacey's friendship continued, but as they entered puberty, things began to slowly change. Through that period, Stacey developed into a beautiful woman. Though she only stood 5'3" tall and weighed 115lbs, she proportionately was well built. She had wavy shoulder length auburn hair with dark almond coloured eyes. Her high cheekbones and cute little nose topped with a few freckles gave her that 'girl next door' innocent appearance. Apart from her height, her measurements were those of a model. She had perfectly shaped breasts which fit neatly into a 'B' cup bra followed by a slender firm waist and perfectly rounded ass, held up by a pair of slender shapely legs. All in all, she was a gorgeous package.
Greg developed as well, but not nearly as pronounced as Stacey. He grew to 5'11" tall and weighed 175lbs. He had short dirty blond hair, brown eyes and average facial features. His body was toned, but not overly muscular. The best thing you could say about him was that he was average. Not overly good at any one thing.
As they came into puberty, Greg's feelings for Stacey began to change. He took notice of the beautiful woman she was becoming, and developed strong feelings for her. He was too shy, though, to let her know how he was feeling, and so continued to watch her from the sidelines, as they slowly drifted apart. His feelings for her became an obsession, as the years passed and the distance continued to grow. They were still good friends and saw each other practically every day, but it became more and more difficult for Greg, as he watched her date other boys. Stacey's mom was like a second mom for Greg, and she welcomed him in their home anytime. He would often just walk in, sit down at the kitchen table, and her mom would make him some something to eat. He was like another member of the f****y. Mrs. Clark didn't mind, since she knew Greg's parents were still having financial and marital difficulties. So Greg would look for every opportunity to get out of the house, and away from that situation.
Greg's obsession with Stacey took a dark turn, as he began to conspire for ways to get information on her, and, hopefully, get her to notice and start taking an interest in him. He devised a plan which, he hoped, would give him some form of leverage to use against her. Two days ago, while hanging out at the Clark residence, watching some TV, he put this plan into action. He slipped onto their computer, while Stacey was out with some friends, and Mrs. Clark was in the kitchen cooking supper. Greg quickly installed the invisible 'key logger' program he had brought with him on a memory stick. The program was designed to silently log all keystrokes made by the user, and would also take periodic screen shots and then e-mail the entire package, every 5 minutes, to his e-mail address. All of this would happen in the background, without the user ever being aware.
The first night was rather unremarkable, and mostly involved Stacey talking with her girlfriends, on MSN Messenger, about their plans for the upcoming weekend, but the next night something happened, which was so unexpected and unbelievable, that it set in motion an event which went way beyond anything Greg had ever imagined possible. After eating supper at the Clark's again, Greg indicated that he was not feeling well and was going to go home and head to bed early. He of course ran home and quickly logged onto his computer expecting Stacey to get on again and begin talking with her friends. However, unbeknownst to him, Stacey had got a last minute call from one of her girlfriends asking if she wanted to come over for the night to watch a couple of movies with the girls.
After about a half hour had passed, Greg's account began to receive e-mails from the key logger program. As he began to read through the first e-mail, Greg was beside himself with excitement. The e-mail showed that Stacey was Googling pornographic websites - specifically sites which catalogued and stored sex stories. As he checked the screenshots and the text which was being typed into the search bar, he found that she was looking for stories which dealt with S&M, dominance and submission, bondage and humiliation. The next e-mail had a screenshot of the story that she was apparently reading, since the next several e-mails all had screenshots of the same story, just pages later. Greg hastily typed in the website information and quickly navigated to the story in question. The story was entitled "My Pet Teacher" and was about a young female teacher who got blackmailed into submission by one of her grade 12 students. The story described numerous sexual acts which were designed to punish and humiliate the teacher. The story was hot and was a tremendous turn-on for Greg. He had never really considered going that far, but the thought of it intrigued him.
As the e-mails continued to come in Greg saw that Stacey had moved on to another story called "The Making of an Office Slut" which dealt with a female office executive, who was also blackmailed into submission by her secretary and was f***ed into performing various sexually degrading, painful, and humiliating acts. As he read through the second story, Greg couldn't help but begin to masturbate as he imagined Stacey doing the same thing as she read through the story.
After having an explosive orgasm into one of his discarded sweat socks, Greg saw that Stacey had moved on and was now Googling sites which had free sex pictures for viewing. Many of the photos showed women, in various states of bondage, being clamped, whipped, spanked, or cum on. Other pictures showed women on their knees gagging on massive cocks, which filled their mouths and throats, all eventually getting cum facials. Yet others had women getting gang banged by numerous men, filling all of their orifices at once.
Greg was floored. He had never expected this!!! On a whim, Greg grabbed the phone and dialed Stacey's number, hoping to catch her in an awkward moment.
"Oh hi, Mrs. C. Can I talk with Stacey please?" Greg asked Mrs. Clark.
"No, I'm sorry. Greg, but soon after you left, Stacey got a call from Carol asking if she wanted to come over and watch some movies. She left soon after you did," Mrs. Clark replied.
After a moment's pause, Greg asked, "So, you're the only one home right now?"
"Yes, that's right. It's just been me this evening. Was there something I can help you with Greg?" Mrs. Clark asked politely.
"Umm.....no that's fine Mrs. C. I'll talk to Stacey tomorrow," Greg quickly replied.
"Alright then, good night, Greg."
"Goodnight, Mrs. C." Greg slowly hung up the phone and continued to stare at the receiver for several minutes. This was a curve ball he certainly hadn't expected.
For the first time, Greg began to think about Mrs. Clark in a very different way. He had never really noticed before but she was really just an older version of Stacey. She had gotten pregnant with Stacey just after her 16th birthday, so that meant she was only 34 years old right now. 'Not really that old at all,' he thought to himself. Strange he had never noticed before. She was a couple of inches taller than Stacey, but from what he could see through the slightly baggy clothing she always wore, her figure was very similar to Stacey's. She had slightly longer, straighter and darker colored hair than Stacey, but had the exact same eyes and facial features.
Reading through the stories again, a plan began to take shape in Greg's mind. If he couldn't have Stacey, maybe he could have her mother instead.
The next morning, Greg got up early and headed over to the Clark's. He let himself in, as he always did, and sat at the kitchen table reading the paper. He had a hard time focusing on the words on the page and found his mind constantly wandering back to the plan he had formulated last night. When Stacey walked into the kitchen, hollering to her mother that she was heading out to the mall with her friends, Greg hardly noticed her, he was so deep in thought.
When she asked him a question, he found he had to struggle to focus on her and come up with an answer. He managed to blurt out something about going to shoot hoops, and was actually glad when she left it at that and ran out the door with a quick wave. Now he was home alone with her mom and could start to put his plan into action.
He continued to sit at the table and pretend to read the paper until he heard Mrs. Clark enter.
"Oh, hi, Greg."
"Hi, Mrs. C. Did you have a good night last night?" Greg asked very pointedly, staring intently at her. She was wearing another one of her bland, baggy sweaters and a pair of unflattering pants. Greg realized that in the entire time he had known her, he could never recall seeing her in anything else.
Looking at Greg with an odd expression on her face, she hesitantly replied, "Umm....yes I did, thank you."
After a pause, "would you like some breakfast, Greg?"
"Yes, that would be fine, Mrs. C," Greg replied, still looking intently at her.
As she turned and busied herself at the stove, Greg gathered his thoughts and tried to muster the courage to proceed with his plan, praying a silent prayer that it would work. When a few minutes had passed, he reached out and intentionally knocked over his glass of milk spilling it onto the floor by his feet.
Hearing the accident, Mrs. Clark spun around to see what had happened. Seeing that it was just a bit of spilt milk, she began to walk towards the closet to retrieve the mop.
"No, Mrs. C., don't use that. Use this," Greg quickly replied holding up a dish towel he had conveniently placed on the table next to the milk.
Without even thinking about it, Mrs. Clark changed directions and walked over to the table to take the cloth from Greg's outstretched hands. If she hadn't had such a sl**pless night last night, because her thoughts had been plagued with images from the stories and pictures, she probably would have thought it odd that Greg didn't clean up the mess himself.
She dropped the cloth on the spilt milk and was going to use her foot to move it around, but Greg spoke up again. "No, Mrs. C. You should get down on your hands and knees to clean it up. It's the only way to make sure you do a good job," he said with a touch of authority in his voice.
Responding as if she was in a fog, Mrs. Clark slowly dropped to her knees at Greg's feet and began to, hesitantly, clean up the mess. Greg felt energized, having Stacey's mom kneeling at his feet cleaning up after him. He knew he had to proceed carefully from here or else he would risk blowing it all.
As she continued to work, Greg began in a conversational tone of voice, "you know Mrs. C., I was reading somewhere that a proper and decent woman wears a blouse and a skirt. You are a proper and decent woman aren't you, Mrs. C.?" Greg asked, again staring at her intently.
Sensing his intent gaze, and confused about the strange feelings running rampant through her, as she knelt at his feet, Mrs. Clark began to color slightly at the cheeks and could not look him in the eyes. Her thoughts were jumbled and she had a difficult time formulating a response. When she realized he expected her to answer, she finally managed to mumble, "Yes.......I guess so."
Sensing her confusion and weakness, Greg pressed the attack. "Well, if you are indeed a 'proper and decent woman', then shouldn't you also dress in that fashion?" he asked.
Head still bowed and turning a deeper red, Mrs. Clark stuttered, "well....I.....it's just......I.......I guess so."
"Well alright then. It's settled. Next time I see you, you should be dressed that way," Greg replied amicably, sensing a win. "I think you got it all cleaned up now Mrs. C. You can get up now."
Flushed deep red, Mrs. Clark rose on unsteady legs and walked back over to the stove, to continue cooking breakfast. For the rest of the meal, Greg acted as if nothing had happened and talked about various topics like school, sports, and local events.
Once he had finished eating, he informed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to head out to the school to shoot some hoops, but would like to drop by for supper, if that's alright with you?"
Having regained some of her composure, and feeling more at ease with the rest of the conversation she had with Greg, she readily replied, "certainly Greg. You know you are always welcome here."
"Thanks, Mrs. C. I gotta go now." Greg waved goodbye as he headed for the back door. As he stepped outside he took a deep breath to steady himself and prayed that the suggestion he had planted in her would take root and come to fruition later on.
It was late in the afternoon and nearing suppertime, when Greg finally decided to head back for supper. He had sort of wandered aimlessly for most of the day, trying to waste as much time as he could, shooting hoops, hanging out at the mall, and heading down to the skate park, prior to heading back to the Clark's.
As he walked up the back steps, Greg's stomach was roiling with anxiety and fear, since he did not know what he was going to find when he walked into the house. The first thing he noticed was the smell of supper cooking in the oven. That was certainly a good sign. As he entered the kitchen he saw Mrs. Clark standing over the stove, stirring something in a pot. She was wearing a black skirt with a white blouse!!!
Greg was ecstatic. His suggestion to Mrs. Clark, this morning, had sunk in and she had complied. He could now see her figure much more clearly. It looked even better than he had imagined. Like Stacey, she had nice thin shapely legs and a beautifully curved ass. Her breasts were slightly larger than Stacey's, but looked just as firm. Greg could feel his cock beginning to stir in his pants as he imagined Mrs. Clark standing naked in front of him.
Since her back was to the door, Mrs. Clark had not heard Greg enter. After looking her up and down several more times, Greg cleared his throat and said nonchalantly, "hi Mrs. C."
Turning her head, Mrs. Clark smiled and replied, "Oh, hi Greg. You're just in time. Supper will be ready in 15 minutes. Stacey is just upstairs getting changed, if you want to have a seat for a few minutes."
As Greg sat at the table, he could see that it had already been set, and, fortunately, the milk was already on the table. Taking a deep breath, Greg filled his glass up and then casually knocked it over, once again spilling its contents onto the floor at his feet. "Oh my, I'm sorry Mrs. C, I did it again," he said with a wistful smile.
"Oh, that's alright Greg." She began to head toward the closet again, but then suddenly remembered the events of the morning, and abruptly turned around, grabbed the dishcloth from the handle of the stove, and walked over to the table. Slowly sinking to her knees, Mrs. Clark began to clean up the mess in the manner which she had been instructed this morning.
With a smile, Greg pulled out his digital camera and quickly, without her noticing, snapped off a shot of her kneeling at his feet cleaning up the mess. From his vantage point, he could see a hint of flesh through the opening of her shirt. He could see Mrs. Clark was uncomfortable and was having a difficult time meeting his gaze.
"You know, Mrs. C, a decent and proper woman would not have so many buttons on her shirt done up. I think it best if you undo the top one," suggested Greg.
"Well......I.......don't think that's........" she stammered.
Cutting her off before she get any further in her protestations, Greg demanded "now Mrs. C. You do want to be a good role model for your daughter, don't you? You want to set a good example, right?"
"Well.......yes.......I suppose," she murmured, feeling a fog settle over her. A combination of the lack of sl**p, and confusion over the strange feelings coursing through her body created confusion and uncertainty in her.
"Well, then quit arguing about it. If you delay any longer, then Stacey will be here and it will have to be 2 buttons undone," Greg replied authoritatively. He could sense her will breaking as she looked down at her shirt, and then, with shaking hands and red face, began to fumble with the top button of her blouse. Since she was distracted looking down at her button, Greg quickly snapped off another picture with his camera.
Once it was undone, Greg could see the cleft between the mounds of her breasts and the white lacy bra she was wearing much more clearly.
'There you go, Mrs. C. I think you got it all cleaned up. Thanks," he said quickly stashing the camera back into his front shirt pocket.
Again, with shaking legs, Mrs. Clark rose and went back to the stove to continue cooking the supper. Greg was very pleased with himself, since things were going exactly as he had planned. He couldn't believe his good fortune. In his mind, he had imagined everything going wrong, at every step, and never being able to reach the prize, at the end of the tunnel, but, now, it was almost within reach.
Almost as if on cue, Stacey walked into the kitchen moments later, bringing with her a magical scent of perfume and flowers. With a big smile she said "Hi Greg. Good to see you again. How was your day?"
"Oh, it's been pretty good. It's nice just to relax and not worry about school and stuff. How was yours?" he asked.
"Awesome. The mall was packed and there was a truckload of sales going on," she replied enthusiastically.
"Stacey, honey, supper will be ready in 10 minutes," Mrs. Clark interjected.
"Oh, I'm sorry mom. I'm heading to the early show with Carol and Joan. I gotta run. I hope you don't mind?" she asked.
"Uh.....no I suppose that's OK. Make sure you grab something to eat there then. Don't just fill up on popcorn, alright?" she admonished.
"OK, mom," she replied sheepishly.
"See ya, Greg," she hollered as she ran out the door.
"Well, I guess it's just going to be you and me for supper, Greg," Mrs. Clark announced.
"I guess so." Putting a serious look on his face, Greg pressed on with the plan. "You know, Mrs. C., you really didn't set a good example for your daughter this evening. You knew the right thing to do, yet you procrastinated and stalled in doing it. Was this how you want your daughter to act, Mrs. C?" Greg demanded.
"Well........no. Of course not, Greg." she replied.
"Then, you do realize that there are going to be consequences for your inappropriate behavior?"
"But.....I.......it's just......." she stammered.
"Now stop, Mrs. C," Greg hollered, slamming his hand down on the table with a resounding crack, startling her into silence. "I think you've dug a deep enough hole for yourself. You don't want to make it any worse by continuing to argue. What would your daughter think if she could see you now, arguing like this," he said disdainfully.
Completely awash in confusion, Mrs. Clark bowed her head in defeat and muttered, "I'm sorry."
"As you should be Mrs. C., now as a consequence of your actions you are going to march into that bathroom," pointing to the one just off the kitchen, "and remove your bra and panties. You will then march back out here and hand them to me. Is that clear?" Greg demanded, raising his voice again for emphasis and to hopefully keep her off balance.
"But.....I......didn't mean to," she pleaded. Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of confusion. She didn't know what was happening anymore, or what to think, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and started responding without her even realizing it.
The next thing she knew, she was in the bathroom and had already removed her bra and was in the process of pulling down her panties. As she stepped out of them, she got a whiff of something and realized, with a shock, that it was the smell of her arousal. Looking at her panties, she could see the crotch was damp with her secretions.
"What's happening to me?" she asked herself. She couldn't come to grips with the feelings coursing through her and stimulating her private areas. Not only was her vagina dripping wet, but her nipples were rock hard, as they pressed against the thin fabric of the blouse. With a face as red as a beet, Mrs. Clark opened the door to the bathroom and hesitantly walked over to Greg. Without making eye contact, she dropped her bra and panties into his outstretched hand.
Greg casually placed the bundle of undergarments on the table beside his plate, where they both could see them. He hoped it would help to keep Mrs. Clark off balance, since the most daring part of his plan came next. He looked at Mrs. Clark and liked what he saw. He could clearly see the outline of Mrs. Clark's nipples, as they pressed against her blouse, and it only served to accentuate her breasts even more. He could feel his cock getting harder and harder, just looking at her.
"Now, Mrs. C., it's not that I don't trust you, you understand. But I would be remiss if I didn't, at least, confirm that you did as you were asked. It's not as if you've been well behaved to this point," Greg scolded.
Like a c***d, Mrs. Clark responded, "I'm sorry, Greg. I didn't mean to....I tried....."
"I know you did, Mrs. C., but I have to make sure you're telling me the truth. I need to know that you're serious about being a good role model for your daughter. You could have just given me an old pair of underwear you had lying around in the bathroom."
Mrs. Clark just hung her head in defeat. She didn't know if she could resist the urges in her body, even if she wanted to.
"Mrs. C., you WILL undo the buttons on your blouse and pull the material apart, so that I can confirm this for myself," Greg directed sternly. He held his breath in excited anticipation.
With only the slightest of hesitations, her body screaming for release, Mrs. Clark began to undo the remaining buttons of her blouse. Her face was still a deep red, and the blush was now making its way down her neck and onto her shoulders. Her head hung low as she found it completely impossible to look up and make any sort of eye contact with Greg. When at last she had them all undone, and with obviously shaking hands, she slowly pulled the material apart until both globes were completely visible to Greg.
"Very good, Mrs. C., we're almost done. Leave your shirt like that. Now, with both hands, you WILL grasp the sides of your skirt and slowly pull it up to your waist. That way, I will be able to confirm that you have done the right thing," Greg coaxed.
Not thinking it was possible, Mrs. Clark turned an even darker red as she began to plead, "please?" hoping to change Greg's mind.
"Just close your eyes, Mrs. C., and pretend I'm not even here. It'll be over before you even know it," he continued to coax.
Screwing her eyes tightly closed, Mrs. Clark left her shirt hanging open and reached down, grasping both sides of her skirt in each hand. As if her body had a mind of its own, she began to slowly pull the hem of her skirt up. Her juices were now flowing freely and small rivulets ran down the inside of her legs. She was sure that Greg would be able to see and smell her arousal now. She knew, deep down, she shouldn't be doing this, but she was so confused, and at a loss to explain what was happening to her. Her mind kept flashing back to the events in the stories she had read last night. She felt as if it was all just a dream, and that she would wake up soon and everything would be as it should.
While she was slowly pulling up her skirt, Greg grabbed his camera and began snapping pictures as she humiliated herself in front of him. As the hem continued to rise, her pussy mound finally came into sight. Greg could see that her hair color was natural as the pubes of her pussy were also dirty blond in color.
When she finally had the skirt completely bunched around her waist, Greg ordered, "now turn around slowly so that I can confirm you're not wearing anything."
With her breasts hanging out, nipples as hard as rock, and her pussy and ass clearly on display, she slowly rotated in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her eyes were still screwed tightly shut, making it very easy for Greg to continue to photograph her without her knowledge. As her ass came into view, Greg was absolutely beside himself with excitement. He was rock hard and was stunned by how beautiful her ass was. It was simply perfection. He couldn't wait to get into it.
When she had turned completely around, and was once again facing him, Greg put his camera away and directed her to stop. "You can lower your skirt now Mrs. C, but keep your blouse the way it was." Standing up, he walked over to where Mrs. Clark stood, and, towering over her, said "To be a good role model for your daughter, you need to realize that there are consequences for your actions. If you had simply done what was right in the very beginning, then none of this would have been necessary," he chided her, like a father to a c***d, mimicking the manner found in the sex stories from last night. "Because of what you've done, you've caused me to suffer some intense discomfort," gesturing to his own crotch region and the obvious hard-on he had. With firm pressure on her shoulders, he ordered "get on your knees, Mrs. C. You are going to make this situation all better, so that we can put it all behind us, and get on with supper."
When she was finally on her knees, she found herself staring into the crotch of his pants and wondering how she got there. She was no longer in control of herself and was convinced that it was all just a dream.
Reaching into his pants, Greg pulled out his cock, and held it in front of him. He couldn't remember ever being this hard and turned on before, and knew that it would take very little to cum now. Continuing with his instructions, he directed Mrs. Clark "Take your right hand and begin stroking it, until you have relieved the problem which you created. Keep your eyes closed, Mrs. C., it'll make it easier for you," he coaxed.
Closing her eyes, Mrs. Clark reached out and grasping his cock with her right hand, began to stroke the shaft. Greg quickly pulled out his camera and snapped some more money shots of Mrs. Clark kneeling at his feet, breasts hanging out and stroking his cock. Greg knew that he had everything he would need now, to ensure that Mrs. Clark belonged to him and would do exactly as he ordered.
Putting the camera away, Greg felt his orgasm building in his balls and knew that he would explode very soon. Before he did, Greg instructed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to have relief soon Mrs. C., so I want you to point it at your breasts when I do. Make sure every drop lands on them. Is that clear?" he sternly asked.
Simply nodding her head, Mrs. Clark began to speed up her strokes, and lowered the tip of his cock until it was pointing directly at her breasts. With a gurgled yell, Greg's orgasm exploded out of him, and spurt after spurt of semen shot out and splashed all over her breasts, with some running down the crevice between them.
When at last she had milked the last drop of cum from him, she just stared intently at the white mass of fluid covering her breasts. It felt so real, but she knew it couldn't be, and that it must all be just a dream. She was so tired.
Seeing her lost in thought, staring at her breasts and his sticky load, Greg quickly grabbed his camera and snapped one more picture, of her cum covered breasts. After he had the camera safely tucked away, and his cock back in his pants, he ordered "Mrs. C., I want you rub the nice cream into your skin now. It's good for the skin," he said with a smile on his face.
As if she was on auto-pilot, she took a breast in each hand and began massaging his cum into them. When the last drop had been massaged in, her breasts glistened and her nipples were red and engorged from the attention to them. The kitchen, and now Mrs. Clark, reeked of sex.
Stepping back and taking a seat again, Greg instructed Mrs. Clark, "You can do your shirt up now, Mrs. C. I believe you. You've done very well today and have been a very good role model for your daughter." As she finished buttoning her blouse and began to stand up again, Greg added "Oh, Mrs. C., I want you to leave that cream in until tomorrow morning. You are not to wash it off until then. Is that clear?"
Eyes glazed, mind in a complete fog, and her body numb from the stimulus overload, Mrs. Clark simply nodded her head yes and went over to the stove, to remove the supper from the oven.
For the rest of the meal, Greg again pretended that nothing unusual had happened and talked about inconsequential topics. When he was done eating, Greg excused himself and said that he had to head home, but that he would be back tomorrow morning. And without further ado, Greg ran out the back door and practically sprinted home.
Greg spent the rest of the evening looking over the pictures he had printed off, and reading more of the stories on the site Mrs. Clark had originally visited. The more he read, the more ideas he got for things to do with Mrs. Clark. He ended up masturbating several more times that evening, each time ending with an explosive climax.
The next morning, after having a restless sl**p, Greg arose, showered and headed back over to the Clark residence. Armed with the photos from last night, and copies of the stories she had read, Greg had everything he would need, to own Mrs. Clark.
As he walked in the back door of the home, he found Mrs. Clark already in the kitchen cooking eggs. She was dressed in an old frumpy sweater and slacks again. From that, Greg knew that she must have come to her senses, either sometime last night or this morning and was probably preparing for a confrontation. With a smile, Greg thought to himself, 'bring it on!'
"Hi Mrs. C., how was your night last night?" he asked in a jovial tone.
Blushing a deep red, but keeping her back to him, Mrs. Clark began, "Look, Greg, I think we need to talk. Since Stacey is still sl**ping, this is probably the best time for it." Taking a deep breath she continued, "I don't know how it happened last night, I must not have been feeling well or something, but what DID happen was wrong. It should never have happened. It's my fault, but I think it would be best if we tried to put it behind us and pretend it never happened," she reasoned.
"Well, I'm sorry you think that Mrs. C, but to be quite honest, I don't give a shit!" he said with emphasis.
"What? I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Clark asked.
"Well, you see, Anne," stressing her first name, "it's like this. I own you, and the shit I have, here in my hand, guarantees that," holding up the stories and photos.
With a worried look spreading over her face, "What do you mean?"
"Do these stories look familiar, Anne?" Greg asked throwing the copies down on the table in front of her.
With trembling hands, she picked them up, and after scanning the first page, blanched white as a ghost. "How? Where did you get these? What the hell is going on?" She asked with a tremble in her voice.
"I thought I was already quite clear on this matter. Are you stupid, too?" he asked condescendingly.
Grasping at straws she began, "These stories don't mean anything...You can't prove anything."
"Oh, I beg to differ. These photos I think will tell quite a different story." Throwing one picture down at a time he began asking, "Does this look familiar? How about this one? What about this one where you're showing me your tits and cunt? Or this one, where you are kneeling at my feet, stroking my cock? I think these pictures will certainly corroborate what I am saying?" Letting it sink in for a minute, Greg then moved in for the kill. "What do you think your daughter will do when she finds out what you've done? Or how about the pastor at church, the principal at Stacey's school, her teachers, your parents? Hmm? You think they'll understand?"
"Oh my God. How did you...when...why are you doing this?" she asked with a plaintive whine as panic began to set in. "Is it money you want?"
"Again, I've already told you what I want. You. I own you. You belong to me. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, without argument, or there will be severe consequences. Is any of this sinking in Anne?" he asked.
"But why....?" she began again. She was terrified at what she was hearing, but also becoming very aroused on a purely physical level.
"Enough with the stupid questions already," Greg interjected. "I think it's pretty clear, from the stories you've been reading and the pictures you've been looking at, as well as how easily you were controlled last night, that this is something you need or perhaps even crave. I'm just happy to satisfy that craving for you. Now, I've already covered this. Either you do EXACTLY what I say, or I start sending these pictures to everyone in this town, including your daughter. The choice is yours. What's it going to be Anne?" Greg demanded.
"Please, nobody must know. This will destroy my daughter."
"Very well. But understand this. If at any time you decide to cancel our agreement, then this all becomes public knowledge. I will not tolerate any disobedience from you. If you disobey me or argue with me over any order given, then you will be punished - just like in the stories. Is that clear?"
Hanging her head in defeat, Mrs. Clark uttered a very quiet "yes." Despite the obvious wrongness of it all, she couldn't stop her body from responding to the situation and becoming more and more aroused with each passing minute.
"Now, on to the first order of business. Since you've seen fit to disobey me, by wearing those clothes and by arguing with me, you are now going to be punished," Greg explained.
"But I didn't......you never said....." Mrs. Clark began to stammer.
"Shut up! I don't want to hear excuses, Anne. Or shall I add another punishment to the list for arguing with me now?" Greg pressed.
"No please, I'll do as you say," Mrs. Clark pleaded.
"Then take off those offending clothes now," Greg ordered. From the shocked look on her face, Greg figured she was preparing for another round or arguments, but to his surprise, she simply closed her mouth, hung her head in shame and began undressing in front of him.
When she had removed her pants and sweater, Greg took them from her and ordered, "The bra and panties too, Anne." Again, it looked as if Mrs. Clark was going to argue, but then thought better of it, and did as she was told.
Once she stood completely naked in front of Greg, he began to explain to her what he wanted her to do next. "You are now going to march upstairs to your bedroom dressed just the way you are."
"But Stacey might wake..." she began to whine.
Cutting her off once again, "then you'd better walk quietly, hadn't you?" Greg replied condescendingly.
Continuing, "On the way to your room, you will knock on Stacey's door telling her it's time to wake up. Once you are in your room, you will head to the bathroom and will shave off all of the hair on your pussy. Are you getting this so far, Anne?" Greg asked.
Nodding her head, "yes."
"Good. Once your pussy is shaved clean, you will then dress in the shortest and tightest skirt you own and the tightest most see-through blouse you own. Got it?"
Another nod of her head.
"Then get moving," Greg ordered.
On wobbly legs, Mrs. Clark scurried out of the kitchen and began to tiptoe upstairs. Excuses began to run through her head, as she tried to come up with one that would make sense, were Stacey to come out of her room now and see her mother standing naked in front of her. Thankfully, Stacey was still asl**p, and did not wake until Mrs. Clark had knocked several times upon the door. When she heard Stacey groggily respond, Mrs. Clark informed her it was time to get up and then sprinted the remainder of the way to her own bedroom, shutting the door as quickly as she could.
She stood with her back to the door for several seconds, as she tried to catch her breath and make sense of what was happening to her. Outwardly she knew what was happening was wrong, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why she was complying. She knew she should be resisting. It felt like something inside of her was twisting her guts inside out. Locking the door, she walked unsteadily to her bathroom, grabbed her razor and cream, and, sitting upon the toilet, prepared to shave her pubic hair. It was with a start that she noticed her pussy beginning to dampen. Her mere touch was enough to send electrical shocks shooting through her pussy. This only added to the confusing emotions running amok within her. With a dizzy head, she applied the cream and began shaving her nether region, as delicately as she could.
As she made her final pass along the side of one of her pussy lips, she noted that her pussy was now soaking wet from her ministrations. The urge to masturbate was nearly overpowering, but something deep inside her told her to resist the urge, and with shaky resolve, she closed her legs and rose to get dressed.
As she stood in front of her closet, she contemplated the orders Greg had given her. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to put on panties and a bra, or just the blouse and skirt. Things were still a bit foggy for her. As she mulled this over, she had another shock, when she realized that she began to ask herself, 'what would please Greg?' to help her make her decision.
Shaking her head and more confused than ever, she reached for her skirt and blouse and put them on, without any underwear. She felt so naughty standing there looking at herself in the mirror, knowing her pussy was bare underneath the skirt and seeing the faint outline of her semi-erect nipples poking through the blouse. 'What would Stacey think if she knew?' Mrs. Clark asked herself. Slipping on a pair of matching heels, Mrs. Clark hurried out of the bedroom, not wanting to take too long and risk upsetting Greg any more.
Once downstairs again, she peered nervously around the corner and saw that Greg and Stacey were both seated at the kitchen table, eating bowls of cereal and having an amiable conversation. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the kitchen, kissed her daughter on the head and then quickly headed to the stove; ostensibly to offer to make breakfast for anyone, should they wish it. In reality she really just wanted to hide the fact that her nipples were prominently poking through her blouse and her face was red with embarrassment. When Stacey and Greg indicated that they did not want anything made for breakfast, she busied herself making some eggs and toast for herself.
While Mrs. Clark was working at the stove, Stacey informed her, "I'm heading to the beach today with Carol and Joan. I'll probably be back around 5pm." Dropping her dirty bowl into the sink, Stacey gave her mom a kiss on the cheek, grabbed her day bag and towel, and rushed out the door.
Once Greg heard the car pull out of the driveway, he cleared his throat and then began giving Mrs. Clark directions. "All right, Anne, turn around and walk over here," pointing to the floor in the middle of the kitchen. On wobbly legs, Anne shuffled over to the spot indicated, head bent low, unable to make eye contact.
"Now remove all of your clothing, Anne," Greg ordered. Blushing furiously, Anne reached up, and, with horribly shaking hands, began to undo the buttons of her blouse. When the last one was undone, she hesitated for a moment, but with a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping in defeat, she shrugged the blouse off of her shoulders, and let if fall to the floor. Her naked breasts, with nipples now as hard as rocks, stood prominently on display for her tormentor to see. As humiliated as she was, the weird, twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn't go away. It just seemed to push her on, f***e her to comply with his demands. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her skirt, and again, with the slightest of hesitations, she began to shimmy the skirt down her hips. When the newly shaven lips of her vagina came into view, Anne blushed an even deeper color red, which spread down her neck onto the tops of her shoulders. Once the skirt was past her thighs, Anne let gravity do the rest and let it fall about her feet. Stepping to the side with one foot, she used the other to lightly kick the skirt away from her.
Here she stood, completely naked, before her 18 year old tormentor, save for a pair of fuck-me heels. With great effort, Anne fought the urge to cover her newly shaved pussy, but instead kept her hands firmly at her side. Sensing Greg's eyes upon her, she could not bear to look up and meet them. She could only bite her lip and hover in that emotional space somewhere between excitement and crying, as she nervously awaited his next move.
She heard his chair sc**** across the floor, as he pushed it back and rose to his feet. The weird twisting feeling in her stomach began to increase as she waited nervously for his next move. Mrs. Clark couldn't bear to raise her head and look at Greg, so she resigned herself to looking at his feet and following their movement.
Had she taken a moment to look up, she would have seen the enormous, shit-eating grin plastered across Greg's face. He looked like a k** in a candy store who had just been told he could have anything he wanted, and as much of it as he wanted. His eyes took in every inch of her body, as he slowly circled about her, nodding his head appreciatively at what he saw. He hadn't thought it possible, but for an 'older' woman, Mrs. Clark had an amazing body. Her breasts were still firm and supple, with no evidence of sagging at all. The nipples, when erect, stood out prominently from her chest, begging for attention. Moving down, she had a nice tight stomach and petite waist which flared beautifully at the hips, accentuating her gorgeously shaped ass. Her legs were lean and slender, and were a perfect end to a perfect body. Aside from being a few inches taller than Stacey, she was a mirror image of her.
Leaving her standing there, Greg walked over to the counter and, rifling through one of the drawers, pulled out the implement he was looking for. He had seen Mrs. Clark use this wooden spoon often, as she cooked the meals, but had never thought about using it in the manner he had planned. Smacking it several times into the palm of his hand, Greg marveled at the sound it made and the stinging sensation it left behind.
With nervous anticipation, Greg stepped in front of Mrs. Clark and said, "Now, Anne, for wearing inappropriate clothing this morning, you are going to be punished."
"But I...You never..." she began to stammer.
"Enough with your blubbering!" Greg shouted, cutting Mrs. Clark off mid-sentence. "You were already told not to wear that clothing, and yet you chose to willfully disobey me. You obviously need to be taught a lesson, and I intend to teach that lesson now," he said with emphasis.
Mrs. Clark wanted to argue with him, wanted to fight what was happening to her, but that sick feeling in her stomach just kept getting stronger, and she felt her willpower quickly draining away. She could only stand there, head lowered, shaking like a leaf, waiting for his next command. As scared and nervous as she was, she also was feeling excitement building from somewhere deep within her.
"Now, Anne, your punishment is not going to be pleasant. I'm not going to lie to you; it's going to hurt like hell, but I need to make sure that you are going to understand how serious it was for you to disobey me," Greg reasoned.
"Please..." she paused as she thought about how best to address Greg. Remembering the stories, and hoping that if she was really respectful, she might be able to weasel out of whatever punishment he had planned for her, she continued, "Sir, I won't disobey you again. I promise. Pleeaaassee," she whined, sneaking a glance at his face. What she saw frightened her. Greg seemed to have grown in size, since the last time she looked, and he now seemed to tower over her, with a steely look of resolve set firmly on his face.
'I'm sorry, Anne, but it's the only way you are going to learn your lesson," Greg said softly shaking his head. He couldn't believe how easy this was going for him. He had expected more resistance, but she was like putty in his hands. "Now cup your tits for me, Anne, and offer them to me," Greg ordered.
Reddening further, Anne hesitated for only a second, before reaching up and cupping each of her breasts, lifting them slightly. Instinctively, Anne knew what was coming, but found herself powerless to resist. The feeling in her stomach was now overpowering. Closing her eyes, she waited for what she knew was surely to come.
SMACK. The first blow landed squarely upon the top of her left breast, leaving a rapidly reddening mark behind. It took a fraction of a second before the pain registered in her mind. Mrs. Clark screamed in pain, and her left breast lit up and felt like it was on fire. She fought the urge to cover her breasts and to turn away from the next blow, since she knew deep down inside what was expected of her. The punishment would only be worse if she moved.
SMACK. With barely enough time to catch her breath, Greg landed the spoon squarely upon her right breast. Another howl of pain erupted from Mrs. Clark, as she tried desperately to stand still for her attacker. Greg marveled at the sound the spoon made, as it bounced off of her breasts, and how the smooth pearly white skin marked and reddened so quickly. His already hardening cock was now rock hard in his jeans, as he enjoyed the sensations the punishment was creating for him. It caught him a bit by surprise, since he hadn't expected his body to react to the discipline in this way.
SMACK-SMACK-SMACK-SMACK. Greg quickened the pace and applied two quick swats to each breast, spreading the strikes around to areas that had yet to feel the sting of the wooden spoons. Mrs. Clark's breasts bounced and reddened under the strikes and she screeched and howled in pain.
Tears were streaming down her face, as she began to cry and sob from the pain. Mrs. Clark was feeling more and more confused as the punishment continued. Despite the intense pain radiating throughout her body, the knot in her stomach was getting stronger, and a strange tingling feeling was now coming from her pussy.
After Mrs. Clark's breasts were an even shade of red, Greg took aim and landed the final two strikes on each hardened nipple. Mrs. Clark shrieked in agony, as the pain shot through her body. It felt as if someone had applied a red hot brand to each of her nipples. The waves of pain were almost too intense for Mrs. Clark, as she felt her legs begin to buckle.
"On your knees, Anne. NOW!" Greg ordered, knowing she wouldn't be able to stay standing much longer. Like a rag doll, Anne dropped to her knees, still holding her breasts in her hands as she had been directed. "Clasp your hands behind your back. Do not, under any circumstance, move them from that position. If you do, we will simply resume the punishment where we just left off. Is that clear Anne?" Greg demanded.
Through sobs, Anne was simply able to nod her head yes as she moved her hands into position..
"Now, Anne, since I own you, I think it important that you learn how to properly suck a cock. Have you ever given a man oral sex before?" Greg asked.
Keeping her head down, Anne nodded her head again.
"How many times?"
Through her sniffles, Anne mumbled, "a couple of times."
"Who was that with?"
"An old boyfriend," she replied.
"And did you like it, Anne?"
"It was OK. I only did it because my boyfriend had asked," she replied.
"And did you swallow his cum, Anne?" Greg asked pointedly.
With a shocked look on her face, she gasped "God no! That's disgusting."
"Well, that's really too bad then, Anne, because from now on, it's going to be your number one protein snack. We'll call it the golden rule. Unless I say otherwise, you will ensure all semen ends up in your belly. Is that clear?" he asked, with a grin on his face.
With a sob, shoulders dropping even further, she nodded her head once and mumbled a yes.
"On with the lesson now. Show me how you learned to suck a cock." By this time, Greg had dropped his pants and had his raging hard-on in hand. Greg had never really considered himself overly big in that department; certainly not as big as any of those male actors in the porn movies. He had even gone so far as to measure it one time, just to see how it compared. Once hard, it measured an even 8" long and 1 ½" wide. Looking at his hard-on now, it seemed to have grown to twice its size. Greg couldn't remember ever being this turned on before.
Scooting forward on her knees, Mrs. C. raised her mouth to his cock and began to lick the head and shaft. After thoroughly licking the cock she began to suck on the head and first few inches of the shaft. Greg gave her a few minutes to 'show' him how she did it, before he stopped her.
"Fuck! That had to be the worst blow job I've ever had!" Greg exclaimed, as he grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her head, twisting her face towards his. A sneer covered his face as he began to explain, in great detail, what would be expected of her from now on, when it came to oral sex. "You will never use your hands, but, rather, will keep them clasped behind you at all times. Your sole goal will be to see how much of the cock you can get down your throat. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you. You read how all of the women in the stories were expected to give blowjobs."
"Do you believe yourself to be better than those women in those stories?" Greg asked. Without giving her a chance to answer, he pressed on. "Well guess what? You're not better than they are. You're a dirty little whore, just like them. You can protest all you want, but guess what? All it took were a few comments from me, and you were stripping naked in front of me and letting me blow my load all over your tits."
Still holding tight to her hair and twisting her face up to his, he continued on. "You can pretend to be all prim and proper, but when push comes to shove, you like to be treated like a filthy little whore. Just like those women in the stories you were reading." Greg could see his words were really starting to have an effect on her, as tears of shame began to start falling from the corners of her eyes.
"Still don't believe me? OK, with your right hand stick two fingers in your pussy," he ordered, still not releasing his hold on her hair.
As she hesitatingly brought her right hand around the front of her body and reached for her newly shaved pussy, she knew what she was going to find before she even touched it. She could smell her sex from where she knelt, and, just as it had been when she was shaving it, her pussy was intensely aroused and was dripping juices onto the floor beneath her. She tentatively touched her pussy and instantly felt the unbelievable amount of wetness there.
"Go ahead and bury your two fingers into your pussy." After watching her push her two fingers into her cunt, until only the knuckles were visible, Greg ordered "now take them out and hold them up in front of your face."
With her face a deep crimson red, she removed her fingers and held them in front of her. It was immediately obvious that they were covered in her pussy juices. Her body was responding to the situation, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
"Now you see? You're obviously very aroused. So, let's recap what it took to get you to that state. While your daughter was still here in this house, you willingly stripped naked for me, right here in the kitchen, knowing that she could walk in at any minute. Then, with hardly any resistance at all, you again strip naked for me here in the kitchen, after your daughter had left, but knowing that she could walk back in that door at any minute, and willingly offered me your tits, so that I could beat them with a spoon. You then let me beat them mercilessly, with no resistance what-so-ever. Then you knelt before me and began to suck on my cock."
Taking a breath, Greg continues. "Now throughout all of that, did anyone touch you in a sexual manner? Did anyone stroke your clit or fondle your tits?"
Tears streaming from her eyes now; all she could muster was a small head shake to his very pointed questions.
"And yet, you're dripping like a bitch in heat. All I've done was to humiliate you and cause you pain, and you're getting turned on by it. Face it; you're just like those dirty little whores in your stories. You get turned on by the humiliation and abuse." Greg could see the war being raged behind her eyes as her thinking brain was trying to reconcile the strange emotions coursing through her body. With a shudder, her shoulders slumped, and Greg could see the resignation there, as she quietly agreed with what he was saying.
"Now let's try that blowjob thing again, and let's see if we can get it right this time." Releasing her hair, Greg waited for her first move.
After only a slight hesitation, she placed her right hand behind her back again and clasped it with the left. Then, nudging forward, she once again took the head of his cock into her mouth and began working its length in. She was about to do something she'd never done before, and Greg could see she was both scared and turned on. With each head thrust down, she worked more and more of his cock in, until he finally felt it bump the back of her throat. She immediately began to gag from the contact and began to pull out.
Grabbing her hair again, Greg stopped her from pulling his cock completely from her mouth. "Remember, my little whore, the cock stays in your mouth. I don't give a shit whether you're starting to gag or not. I'm not here for your entertainment or amusement. As my filthy whore, you have a job to do. Now keep sucking." And with that, he pushed her head hard onto his cock, until it was once again pressing on the back of her throat. Of course, she immediately began to gag again, but with his hand holding the back of her head, she was unable to pull out. Greg held it there for a bit, letting her adjust to having a cock pressing against the back of her throat. Once the gagging subsided, Greg coaxed her again. "OK, it's now time to start working that cock down the throat. I want to see the entire length buried in your throat."
Greg could feel her starting to panic beneath me, so he gently eased off on the pressure in her throat, giving her a chance to relax a little. Then without warning, Greg thrust hard back into her mouth, this time pushing past the barrier at the back of her throat, and lodging an inch or two into her throat. She instantly began gagging around his cock, since he held her head in place for several seconds before pulling out of her throat, allowing her to breathe around his cock once more.
"That's a good little whore Mrs. C. You see, you were able to get a cock down your throat. Now, let's try that again."
Pushing on the back of her head again, more slowly this time, Greg once more f***ed the head of his cock past the barrier in the back of her throat, and sank several inches of it into her throat, before stopping once again. Holding her head in place with both hands, he enjoyed the sensations rippling up from his cock, while her throat alternately pulsed and gripped his cock, as she struggled with the gag reflex. Feeling her squirm beneath him, and knowing that her very breath depended on his whim was an awe-inspiring feeling of power and dominance. It was a feeling Greg knew he would come to enjoy, and, perhaps, even crave in the weeks to come.
Greg pulled out of her throat once more and allowed her a few moments to catch her breath around his cock. Despite the panic she must have been feeling, Mrs. C. maintained her position on the floor with her hands firmly clasped behind her back. Greg began to coo soft words of encouragement to her as he stroked her hair with one hand.
"That's a good whore. You're doing very well. It's feeling great. Now let's keep working more of that cock into your throat. I want to see all 8 inches of it, buried in your mouth."
With a gentle nudge on the back of her head, she began to work its length back into her mouth. This time, he let her do it herself. When it reached the back of her mouth, she paused for a second, and then began pushing hard until it, once again, slipped past and slid into her throat. This time, without any f***e from Greg, she allowed several more inches into her throat, and began to piston her head back and forth sliding his length in and out of throat. The gagging still occurred but she seemed more able to deal with it, and to continue to function despite being unable to breath.
She continued this for a while, stopping periodically to catch her breath around his cock, before resuming her ministrations to his cock. By the time Greg could feel his orgasm building, Mrs. C. was an awful mess. From her repeated gagging, her face, and chest were covered in her own saliva, long strands of it hanging from her chin. But despite this, she continued to throat his cock, like the whore she was becoming.
Grabbing a handful of hair at the back of her head, Greg began to piston f***efully into her throat, increasing the pace with each thrust, as the orgasm quickly built within him. Within a few seconds his cock was practically a blur, as he hammered away at her throat. With one final thrust, Greg buried the entire length of his cock into her throat and mouth, and let loose a torrent of cum straight down her throat and into her stomach. Mrs. C. Began to thrash underneath him, as she, literally, choked on his semen and cock. As Greg felt the last few spurts exit his cock, he slowly withdrew from her mouth, and allowed her to hack and cough, as she attempted to regain some of her equilibrium.
When Greg felt the worst of her coughing was over, he began to praise her for a job well done. "Anne, that had to be the best blowjob I have ever had. You suck cock like a real pro. From this point on, that is what I expect of you whenever you are giving a blowjob." Stroking her hair, he continued. "As well, you will also learn to love the taste of cum. If the load is not deposited in your mouth, but rather somewhere on your body, then you will scoop that cum up and place it into your mouth. Protein shakes will become your favorite little whore snack. Is that clear?" Greg asked.
Mrs. C. still knelt at his feet, face red with exertion and shame. She simply nodded her head, too shocked to respond.
"Now Mrs. C., we are half-way through your punishment and you're doing great. Hopefully, after all of this is over, you'll realize the importance of doing whatever I say, when I say it."
Greg found the look of shock on her face was utterly priceless. It was quite obvious that she had thought her ordeal to this point was over. Reaching down, he grabbed a nipple and pinching hard, pulled her to her feet. Still holding her nipple, Greg pulled her toward the kitchen table. When she was standing before it, he positioned her so that she was facing the back door and then pushed her down over the table.
"Now, Mrs. C., I want you to grab the edge of the table in front of you with both hands. You will hold on to this table and not let go, no matter what happens. Should you let go, then your punishment will be doubled. I'm hoping by now, that you realize I am quite serious about your punishments." With those words Greg could see the knuckles on her hands whitening, as she instinctively tightened her grip on the table's edge.
"Spread your feet apart. Wider. Now keep your feet like that." Greg stepped back to admire the view for a few seconds. With her bent over the table and her feet spread apart, her nicely shaven pussy was clearly on display, as was her puckered little asshole. It was also quite obvious, to anyone who cared to look, that she was immensely turned on. Her pussy lips positively glistened with moisture and small rivulets of it trickled down her thighs. Grabbing the camera from his pocket, Greg snapped a few more pictures for his growing album.
Walking over to the back door, Greg bent and picked up one of Stacey's discarded flip flops. As he stood back up, Greg checked the lock on the back door and confirmed that it was not locked. Walking back over to stand in front of Mrs. C., he informed her that, "I am going to spank you now with Stacey's flip flop. This will be our little secret. Every time she puts this shoe on, she'll be oblivious to the fact that it was used to spank your pretty little ass." Walking behind her, Greg continued. "You will keep your head up through it all, and keep watching the back door. Just so you know, it is not locked, and anyone could come walking through it, at any moment to find you in this compromising position. Perhaps even Stacey will walk through that door, having forgotten something or other, and find you willingly humiliating yourself for me." Greg could tell the words were having an effect on her, since she began to visibly shake on the table. "Remember - don't let go of that table, under any circumstances," he cautioned.
With those final words, Greg reared his hand back and brought it down hard upon Mrs. C.'s left ass cheek. The responding CRACK echoed throughout the kitchen, as Mrs. C. shrieked in shock. Taking aim at the other cheek, Greg, again, smacked it as hard as he could. Another satisfying CRACK followed by an equally satisfying shriek followed. Greg then began a steady barrage on her ass, ensuring that he reddened every part of both of her cheeks and upper thighs. Her howls and sobs of pain, mixed with the CRACKs of each blow, were an intoxicating aphrodisiac, and, soon, had Greg hard as a rock and ready for round 2.
When she was a blubbering mess and her ass was a nice shade of dark red, Greg stopped his ministrations, and, again, stepped back to take a few photos. To her credit, Mrs. C. maintained her position and never let go of the table. Greg was actually beginning to feel strange feelings of pride for her. He was amazed at how easily she had been manipulated, and how well she was taking all of this.
"Now, Anne," Greg informed her, "we are almost done with your spanking. I want to make sure that this moment is forever etched in your mind, so that the mistakes made will never be repeated again."
At this, she began to panic and plead with him in an irrational voice. "Please, Greg, no more. I'll be a good little whore. I'll do anything you want, but please no more spanking. I beg of you." A note of hysteria was creeping into her voice, and, while her vehemence was moving, Greg knew there was one final thing he needed to do, to cement this moment in her brain forever.
"I'm sorry, Anne, but lessons need to be learned here. I promise it will be quick ,though," Greg says patting her affectionately on her back. Picking up the wooden spoon used earlier on her breasts, he then informed her, "I am going to apply one hit each with this wooden spoon to your pussy and asshole."
No sooner had the words escaped his mouth when Mrs., C. began to plead, "Oh please no, not that! Anything but that. It'll hurt too much."
Ignoring her, Greg continued, "If you maintain your position, then it will only be one each. However, if you move or let go of that table, I will be f***ed to tie you down to the table, and I will then administer 10 strokes to each," Greg finished menacingly.
With that Greg took up position, again, and, taking aim at her puckered asshole, brought the spoon down hard, right on her anal bud. An awful wail bubbled out of Mrs. C. as her back arched, shooting her crotch into the table, as if it could escape from the pain. Again, she never let go, and, after several moments, resumed her position on the table, quietly sobbing to herself.
"You're doing very well Mrs. C. Just one more and we're done with your spanking." This time Greg took aim at her soaking wet pussy, and, with an underhanded stroke, brought the head of the spoon up to hit her squarely on her shaven lips. If it was possible, her scream of pain was even worse than the one for her ass, moments before.
Walking around to stand in front of her, Greg held the spoon out to her and instructed her to kiss it, and to thank him for her punishment. Between sobs, she managed to mutter, "Thank.....you.....for...my......punishment."
"I think it appropriate, at this point, to formalize our relationship," Greg explained to Mrs. C. "From now on, you will refer to me as Sir, at all times. The only exception will be if your daughter is in the room. Then you may refer to me by my first name. Is this clear so far, Anne?" Greg asked.
"Yes.........Sir," she hesitatingly responded.
"Very well, now, you can see that you have given me another erection, and I think it only fair that you help me to relieve it," Greg began to explain as he walked behind her once more. Taking aim at her pussy, Greg shoved his cock into her wetness, and, in one hard stroke, buried it to its hilt. Her back arched, once again, but this time she pushed back against him ensuring that he was buried as deep as he could go. A soft moan escaped her lips, as Greg settled into a nice rhythm, thrusting into her cunt. With each jab, Mrs. C. pushed back against him, slapping his skin against her already reddened ass. Soon the tempo of her thrusts quickened, and Greg could tell she was nearing climax.
"Do not cum without permission whore," Greg cautioned.
No sooner had the words left his mouth, when she began to beg, "Please, Sir, let this whore cum for you. I need to cum so bad. I've been a good girl. I've taken all of your punishments. Please let me cum?" she pleaded.
"Very well. Since you asked so nicely, you may cum for me," Greg replied.
With that, Mrs. C. quickened her pace once more, and within a few seconds, exploded in an ear-shattering climax. 'Thank God, these houses were on large lots,' Greg thought, 'because, if the neighbors could hear, they would think bl**dy murder was happening here.' Her body convulsed and shuddered and writhed beneath him as wave after wave of pleasure rippled throughout her body. All of the pent up frustrations and emotions, she had kept bottled up over the years, suddenly came pouring out of her in one almighty orgasm, causing her to nearly pass out from the pleasure and relief. She realized then, on a very deep level, that, despite the obvious wrongness of the situation, it was something she needed, and had perhaps craved for years. She wasn't yet ready to put those thoughts into words, but just acknowledging them to herself was like a tremendous weight being lifted, from her shoulders.
Oblivious to all of her inner turmoil, it took all of Greg's self-control not to cum as well, while she thrashed beneath him in orgasm. Each ripple of pleasure for her translated into an amazing pressure on his cock, as her cunt gripped him with a fierceness he had never felt before. It was like someone was trying to milk the cum right out of his cock!
When at last her gyrations had ceased, Greg asked, "Whore, have you ever had a cock up your ass before?"
With shock, Mrs. C. tried to shake off the fog of her recent orgasm and answered hesitatingly, "only once Sir."
"And did you like it?"
"Not really Sir. It hurt a lot going in so we never tried it again."
"Well, that is unfortunate for you, because, like the women in your stories, I plan to use your asshole a lot. In fact I plan to make sure that it is filled all the time," he added, giving her ass a playful swat, as he continued to slowly fuck her pussy. "Now I'm going to leave this up to you to decide how this is going to play out. You can try to resist me, and I will be f***ed to tie you down over the table. I will then be none too gentle, as I f***e my cock up your ass, or you can willingly cooperate with me, and I will be as gentle as I can, while I break in your ass. Your choice."
Hesitating for only an instant, Mrs. C. Quickly replied, "No please, Sir. Don't tie me down; I'll do my best to take your cock in my ass. I promise." A secret thrill ran down Greg's spine to hear Mrs. C. using language like that.
"Alright then, because you asked nicely, I'll even use some lubricant to make this first time a little easier for you," Greg said as he reached for the bottle of vegetable oil on the counter.
"Thank you, Sir, I won't disappoint you, Sir," Mrs. C. quickly replied.
Pouring a little of the oil in her crack, just above her anus, Greg began to work the liquid into her asshole; first with one finger and then eventually two. As he slowly and gently began to thrust in and out of her ass with two fingers Greg could feel her sphincter begin to loosen up and relax, as she began to realize that it wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. When it was sufficiently loosened, Greg began to work a third finger into her ass. With very little effort she was able to accommodate this extra finger and even began to thrust back into his hand, thereby burying the fingers completely.
Murmuring in approval, "Mmmm......I have a feeling you're going to be a nice little ass-whore for me, with a little practice and training. Would you like that, Whore?" Greg asked as he began to try and work his fourth finger into her ass.
With a little grunt, she replied, "Yes, Sir, that feels good, Sir," her ass continuing to bounce against my hand.
Feeling she was ready, Greg slowly withdrew his fingers and placed the tip of his cock against her bud. Instinctively, Mrs. C began to tighten against him. Speaking reassuringly to her, Greg coaxed, "Now relax, Mrs. C. My cock is not much bigger than the four fingers I just had in your ass. I want you to relax your asshole and push back against me. I'll leave it up to you, to work my cock into your asshole." With that, he took his hand off of her back, where it had been resting, and, with his other hand holding his cock, pressed against her anus.
For a few moments, nothing was said, and then Greg suddenly felt pressure on his cock, as she began to push back against him. The inner war which had been waging within Mrs. C was now over, and a decision had been made. Mrs. C. was now going to willingly shove his cock up her ass! Greg couldn't believe how amazing this day was turning out to be. It was completely and utterly beyond anything he had thought possible.
Greg was shaken out of his reverie, when he heard Mrs. C. grunt as his cock head eased past her unbelievably tight sphincter muscle, and began to slip inside of her ass. 'It was the most amazing and tightest place he had ever placed his cock,' thought Greg. It took everything he had not to grab hold of her hips and begin thrusting as hard as he could into her. 'The victory would be that much sweeter, if she willingly violated her own asshole,' Greg thought.
Greg began to mutter encouragements to her, as she continued to struggle to take his cock up her ass. "That's a good little whore, Mrs. C. You can do it. You can take my entire cock up your ass. Make me proud, little whore, that's it." Her brow was furrowed in concentration, as tiny beads of sweat trickled down her temples. She was grunting with each push, but continued to slowly make headway. After several minutes had passed, she finally had his entire 8 inches buried up her ass. She paused for a few seconds, letting her body adjust to the intruder, before she began to pull back out several inches, and then thrust it back in again. Soon ,she had built up to a pretty good rhythm, and Greg found his body smacking against her reddened ass with each thrust.
As the pace quickened, so did her breathing. Greg quickly realized that she wanted to cum again, while being fucked up the ass. This completely floored him, since he had never expected her to enjoy this as much as he was. Grabbing her hip with one hand, and a handful of hair with the other, he yanked her head back, and growled, "Are you enjoying this, Whore? Huh? You like having a cock in your ass?" Greg punctuated each question with a hard thrust into her, bottoming out with each one. "Do you want to cum for me again, Whore? Do you?"
When she began to push back against him even harder, Greg was surprised to hear her grunt "Please Sir, let me cum again. This whore wants to cum while you fuck her in the ass."
Greg was shocked at her words, and for several moments was speechless. Finally he regained his senses and barked, "Go ahead, you dirty little Whore. Cum for me."
And just like that, the dam burst, and Mrs. C. Became like a wild a****l beneath him. She was pushing off against the table, with each thrust, pounding his cock into her as hard as she could. Greg pulled hard on her hair, forcing her to arch her back and to keep her facing the back door of the kitchen. Greg was sure that some part of her was aware of the fact that, at any moment, someone could walk in and catch her in her most humiliating moment, but she was beyond caring at this point. Being f***ed to debase and humiliate herself, for her daughters male friend, while he rammed his cock up her ass, was just too much stimulation for her, and she soon found herself gripped in the throes of her second orgasm of the day. 'This one was even better than the first, if that was even possible,' she thought to herself.
Amazingly, Greg managed to hold off on his own orgasm, until he felt her begin to subside underneath him. Greg then quickly yanked his cock out and ran around to the other side of the table, grabbing her hair again and tilting her face up to his. With that, he shot his second load of the day. This time, Greg took aim at her beautifully flushed face, and covered every lovely inch of it, with white sticky strands of his cum. Greg couldn't believe he was able to cum so much, so soon after his first orgasm. When he had wiped the last dribble of cum off on her chin, Greg placed his cock at her lips and ordered her to clean it.
With only a moment of hesitation, she placed the cock, which had just been up her ass, in her mouth and began to suck it clean. When she was all done, Greg pulled out of her mouth and stood several paces away.
When she didn't move, Greg simply asked, "Well?"
It took her several moments to understand what he wanted, but when she did, Greg looked on with satisfaction, as she released the table, and, reaching up, began to wipe the cum from her face, and place the strands in her mouth. She continued this process, until she had cleaned all of the cum from her face, and licked her fingers clean.
When Greg was satisfied with the job done, he ordered, "That's good enough, Mrs. C. I want you to go upstairs now, and get a quick shower. Then I want you back down here again, dressed in only the blouse and skirt you had on this morning."
Rising unsteadily to her feet, Mrs. C. scooped up her discarded blouse and skirt, and quickly ran up the stairs. Thoughts of how drastically her life had changed, in only a few short minutes, were flashing through her mind, as she showered, and she began to wonder what else he had in store for her, today, and in the days to come. To her surprise and continued shame, those thoughts were beginning to turn her on - AGAIN.
Later that day, after Mrs. C. had cleaned up and gotten dressed again, Greg informed her that they were going out to lunch, to celebrate their new relationship. Greg could see she was nervous about this idea, since she feared discovery, but didn't want to argue with him, knowing that it would only result in further punishment for her. Her ass and breasts were still sore from their previous punishment, and she wasn't too keen on repeating it anytime soon.
Seeing her trepidation, Greg attempted to put her mind at ease. "Don't worry, Mrs. C. I thought a little trip to Blackfoot might be in order today." Blackfoot was a city roughly 30 minutes from where they lived, and was both large enough and far enough away that it was unlikely anyone thry knew would see them together. Greg could see her visibly relax at hearing that.
After arriving in Blackwood, Greg gave her directions to a restaurant he remembered eating in, several years ago, when he had come here shopping with his parents. It was almost 1:30pm, and most of the lunch rush had already departed, leaving the restaurant half-empty. As they settled into a booth and ordered their drinks, Greg looked around at his surroundings. They were in a booth in the back corner of the restaurant, and most of the tables around them were empty. The lighting was also dim enough that it afforded them some measure of privacy. After placing their orders for food, Greg leaned over the table and whispered, "You know, Mrs. C., when you stop wearing those frumpy clothes and get all dressed up, you really are quite a beautiful woman."
Blushing at the compliment, she dropped her gaze and whispered back, "Thank you Sir."
Greg took the opportunity, as they waited for their meals to arrive, to look around again at their surroundings, and that was when he noticed a man who looked to be in his late thirties, sitting alone at a table, several tables away from their booth. He would occasionally glance over, and Greg knew he was enjoying the sight of Mrs. Clark, sitting there in her too-tight blouse and tight short black skirt.
As Greg watched him continue to surreptitiously check out Mrs. C., an idea began to form in the back of his mind. Once their meals had been delivered, Greg leaned over the table and said, "You know what, Mrs. C.? I think I'd like it if you undid a button on your blouse. I'd like to see a little more of your breasts."
Mumbling a quiet "Yes Sir," she reached up with shaking hands and quickly undid the top of her blouse. Since there were only a few buttons on her blouse, this opened up the top of her cleavage to anyone who cared to look. When Greg didn't say anything further as they ate their meals, Mrs. C began to visibly relax, as she thought that, perhaps, that was all he wanted from her.
As they finished their meals, Greg leaned across the table and said conspiratorially, "You know, Mrs., C.? I think that man over there is in to you. He's been watching you the entire time we've been here. He seems to be all alone, so why don't we invite him over to join us?"
Greg could tell his question caught her by surprise. She began to mumble a response, "But Sir....what...." But before she could say anything else, Greg was already waving at him to come over and join them.
Looking a little surprised at his gesture, the man finally picked up his drink and ambled over to join them. As soon as he arrived, Greg said, "Scoot over, Mrs. C., and give this man some room to join us."
Blushing furiously, she shuffled over on her bench, giving the man some room to sit down beside her. After the introductions were made, they learned a little about their surprise guest. His name was Bob, and he was an accountant here in town, on business for several days, before heading back to his hometown, several states over. Looking at his left hand, Greg could see the tan line from a quickly removed ring, and realized that he may do just fine for the plan that he was starting to formulate, in his mind.
Conversationally, Greg informed Bob, "You know, Mrs. C., here, was just telling me, a few minutes ago, how attractive she finds you."
Eyebrows raised, clearly surprised at Greg's comment, he replied, "Well, isn't that a surprise. I was thinking the same thing about her."
"Well then, isn't that a coincidence, Mrs. C.?" Greg asked.
Nodding her head she mumbled a shy, "Yes". A smile began to form at the corner of Greg's lips as he caught her slight transgression in forgetting to address him as Sir.
"You know, Bob, I couldn't help but notice how you've been admiring Mrs. C.'s breasts."
Again, surprised at Greg's boldness, and, perhaps, beginning to have some suspicions about his relationship with the beautiful woman, sitting next to him, he simply nodded his head and said "Yes I have, Greg. They are quite lovely."
"You know, I couldn't agree more, Bob. And I'll let you in on a little secret, Mrs. C. is pretty proud of her titties and doesn't mind showing them off, do you, Mrs. C.?" Greg asks innocently.
Turning a darker shade of red, with her eyes downcast, she again muttered "Yes.......Sir." hesitantly adding the 'Sir' at the end. Greg could see that Bob caught that little exchange, and, perhaps, his suspicions were becoming a little more firm now. Bob wasn't a fool, though, and decided to play it cool and let Greg guide the conversation.
"Mrs. C., why don't you undo a button on your blouse, so Bob can get a better look at your tits?"
Keeping her eyes down, with shaking hands, Mrs. C. reached up and undid the next button on her blouse. Now there was only one more button holding her blouse together. It was now plainly obvious, to anyone who cared to look, that Mrs. C. was not wearing a bra, and was excited about what was taking place. Her nipples were as hard as rocks, threatening to poke holes in her too-tight blouse.
"Bob, would you like to touch them?" Greg asks.
"Uh yeah, you bet," he quickly replied.
"You don't mind, do you, Mrs. C.?" Greg asks innocently.
"No Sir," she quietly replied.
Taking that as his invitation, Bob turned his upper body towards her providing a small shield to any prying eyes, and hesitantly reached into her opened blouse, to cup her right breast. When no one said to stop, he became bolder, and began to openly fondle one and then the other breast, paying particular attention to her erect nipples. After a little while of this, Greg could tell Mrs. C. was getting turned on, since she had closed her eyes and was now taking small shallow breaths.
"I'm going to let you in on another little secret, Bob. Mrs. C., here, is getting turned on by your touching her like that, in a public place. I bet if you stuck a finger in her pussy right now, you'd find it soaking wet."
Mrs. C's skirt was short enough, that when she sat down, it rode up pretty high on her thighs, and was now just barely covering her bare pussy. "Mrs. C., why don't you open your legs a little bit, and let Bob, here, have a feel? I don't think he believes me."
This time there was no hesitation. She was, by now, too far gone to be concerned about anyone noticing. Taking his left hand out of her blouse, he left her right nipple exposed, and reached under her skirt to find her newly shaved cunt. With an almost audible sigh, Mrs. C's head rolled back, as she enjoyed the sensation of a perfect stranger burying his finger in her pussy, while sitting in a public restaurant. Seeing her implicit consent for his actions, Bob continued to work his fingers into her pussy, marveling at her wetness and willingness to do whatever this young man, sitting across from him, said.
Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Bob continued his ministrations on her pussy, enjoying the little mewls of pleasures coming from Mrs. C. The more she squirmed, the more her right breast worked its way completely clear of her blouse.
As Greg sensed her orgasm building, he told Bob, "I think she's going to cum for you, Bob. Go a little faster, and then, when she's about to cum, I want you pinch her clit real hard. She loves it like that."
"You sure?" he asked questioningly.
"Absolutely sure, Bob," Greg nodded emphatically.
"Ok." And with that he renewed his efforts on her pussy, delighting in the sounds of pleasure Mrs. C.was making. When it appeared she was about to cum, Bob grabbed hold of her clit between his thumb and index finger, and squeezed as hard as he could.
Mrs. C's eyes suddenly opened wide and her body shot forward, forcing her other breast to fall free from her blouse, as her body began to shake and convulse with the f***e of her orgasm. Bob couldn't believe how powerful an orgasm this strange woman was having, while sitting in this restaurant.
When she finally came back to earth, her face reddening with shame, she sheepishly tucked her boobs back into her blouse, and attempted to smooth out her skirt.
Looking around to make sure no one noticed their little display; Greg exclaimed "that was really well done Mrs. C. It sure looked like you enjoyed that. But now, I think you've caused Bob a little discomfort," he said, nodding his head towards the very obvious erection in Bob's pants.
Sheepishly she replied, "I'm sorry, Bob."
"That's quite alright, Anne," Bob tried to reassure her as he shifted uncomfortably in the booth.
"You know it's not fair to you, Bob," Greg pushed. "I think it only fair that Mrs. C return the favor. I'll have you know that she has a very capable mouth, and she would love to help you out."
Not believing his luck, Bob simply mumbled, "umm....sure."
Bob offered to pay for their lunch, and Greg told him to meet them in the back parking lot, as it would be deserted at this time of day and was well sheltered from view of the road. He quickly agreed. Greg had Mrs. C. pull her car around back, and park parallel to the restaurant, towards the rear of the treed lot. In this way, the car would offer some measure of privacy, for what he had in mind.
When Bob came around back, he was a little surprised to see them there. He had secretly been thinking that he probably wouldn't see them again.
When he was standing beside them, Greg ordered Mrs. C to, "Get on your knees, Mrs. C., and open up that blouse of yours. I think Bob really enjoyed the sight of your pert little titties."
Blushing a deep shade of red, she knelt before a stranger, and, for the second time that day, unbuttoned her blouse completely, so that both breasts were visible. Clasping her hands behind her back, she took up the cocksucking position she had been taught earlier that day. Without needing any further prompting from Greg, Bob undid his pants and dropped them along with his underwear at his feet.
Shuffling forward, Mrs. C. opened her mouth and took the strangers cock into it. Remembering what was expected of her, and not wanting to disappoint Greg, perhaps out of fear of what he would do to her, or maybe out of wanting to make him proud of her, she began to attack his cock with gusto. Once it was completely covered in her saliva, she began to try and work the head of his cock into her throat. When Bob realized what she was trying to do, he let out a little gasp of surprise.
Taking that as encouragement, Mrs. C pushed harder against his cock burying more and more into her throat. Despite continuing to gag, she began to work the length of it in and out of her throat. It appeared to be easier this time around. 'Perhaps there was hope for her yet, in that department,' Greg thought.
Seeing that Bob was close, Greg encouraged him further. "Bob, take hold of her hair at the back of her head, and use it to pound your cock in her mouth. She loves it rough, in fact, the rougher the better. See if you can bury your cock all the way in with each thrust." Greg's words were having their effect on Bob, and doing as he was instructed, he began hammering away at her face. It didn't take long for him to reach orgasm, and, at Greg's prompting, pump his entire load down her throat.
When he had pumped his last, Bob stepped back and hastily pulled up his pants. Muttering a thank you, he patted Mrs. C. on the head and quickly headed back to his car on the other side of the restaurant.
Looking down at Mrs. C., Greg could see that she had not moved from her position and was again a mess, since her face and exposed chest was covered in her saliva. Reaching for a towel, in the back seat, Greg ordered her to clean up and get into the car. That little display had given Greg another idea, and he knew just the place to try it out.
As they made their way over to the other side of town, to a store Greg remembered seeing on his earlier visit, he began to formulate a tentative plan of action. Remembering a situation, written about in one of the stories Mrs. C. had been reading that first night, Greg decided to see how far he could push a similar situation.
As they pulled up in front of the address Greg had given Mrs. C, her face fell as she saw the name on the store. She was also thinking about the situation found in "The Humiliation of my Wife" and wondering what he had in mind.
"Come on Mrs. C. We have some supplies to pick up." Stepping out of the car, Greg continued. "If I plan on giving you some proper training, I'm going to need the right gear to do it." Striding purposefully across the street, Greg could hear the clack-clack of Mrs. C's heels on the pavement, as she attempted to keep up with him. Standing on the sidewalk, Greg stopped and took a moment to look around, at their surroundings. They were in a seedier part of the commercial district of Blackwood and were standing in front of a store called the 'Adult Emporium'. There was little traffic on the road and few pedestrians walking the sidewalks. Greg doubted there would be many people coming in to the store, at this time of the day.
As they walked into the store, Greg noted how dim the lighting was, and saw that there was cardboard in all of the windows, making it impossible for someone to look into the store, and see what was happening. At the front of the store were racks of lingerie and other costume type clothing. Along the walls were display cases and racks holding various toys and sex paraphernalia. This was Greg's first time in an adult sex store, and he hadn't been sure what to expect. As he continued to look around, Greg also noted that the store was void of customers. Greg immediately felt disappointment, though, when he looked to the front corner of the store where the cash register was located, and found a woman sitting behind the till reading a novel.
All of his 'plans' sort of went out the window, when he saw that. Greg doubted things would go quite like they did in the story he had read. Greg did notice though that the woman behind the till was actually very pretty. 'Too pretty, really, to be working in a store like this,' he thought. She was about an inch shorter than Mrs. C. and had long blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She only had on a little makeup; just enough to accentuate her best features. She was slender with an athletic build. Her breasts were small, yet firm and she had a nice, shapely ass in her black stretch pants. She looked to be about 20 years old.
Sneaking a peek at Mrs. C., Greg could see a small smile on her lips as she also figured out that she was probably safe here as well. With an audible sigh, Greg decided to quickly get the supplies and be on their way. Clearing his throat, Greg began to ask the clerk, "Where do I find the collars?"
The clerk seemed startled, and looked up at them in surprise. Greg realized then that she likely had been so engrossed in her book, that she never even heard them enter the store. She began to point to her left, towards a display case, when she did what can only be described as a double take. Her head snapped back to them mid sentence, and her mouth hung open, as she gaped at them in surprise. Greg guessed that she doesn't often see gorgeous women in here with much younger men in tow. She jumped out of her seat and practically ran over to them, quickly offering her help in finding anything they should need. She barely gave Greg a glance, as she stared fixedly at Mrs. C.
With a smile beginning to form on his lips, Greg again asked, "Where do I find the collars?"
With only a glance out of the corner of her eyes, she replied, "Oh, they're over here," pointing to her left as she began to walk in that direction. When she arrived at a rack with a variety of collar types hanging from it, she asked "What type of collar were you looking for?" Her question was directed at Greg, but she never took her eyes off of Mrs. C.
"I have to admit.....Sara...." as Greg noted the name on her name tag, "that I have never been in an adult sex shop before. To be honest, I'm not quite sure what I need. The collar would be for Mrs. C. here." Her cheeks blushed a deep red on hearing that. "What would you recommend for her? She likes to be treated like a dog and led around by her collar," Greg added matter-of-factly. He figured if he couldn't have the fun he had planned here, then at least he could embarrass and humiliate Mrs. C. a little.
With a short intake of breath, and a little color now appearing on Sara's cheeks, she smiled broadly at Mrs. C., and said, "Oh, I have the perfect collar for her, then." Turning around, she rummaged through the rack of collars behind her, until she found the one she was looking for. Holding up a collar she asked, "How's this?"
The collar was black leather, with soft felt lining the inside, and it had silver studs around the outside of it. It also had several silver metal loops spaced around it. It was fastened together by a small silver fastener similar to a belt buckle. Pretending to think about it for a few seconds, Greg said, "I think that might do. Can you put in on her for me to make sure it fits?" he asked innocently.
Coloring a deeper red, Sara quickly replied "sure," and stepped forward until her body was almost touching Mrs. C's. She reached up and gently placed the collar around Mrs. C's neck, fastening it at the back. Her eyes remained fixed on Mrs. C's face the whole time, and she had a big smile on her lips. Mrs. C. was just as red as Sara was, but kept her eyes downcast the entire time. Greg noticed that Sara's hands seem to linger at her neck, and it seemed to take longer than it should to put a collar on. A thought began to form at the back of his head as he studied Sara's interaction with Mrs. C.
Finally Sara stepped back and asked, "Well, what do you think?"
Greg smiled at her and said, "It looks perfect. Do you mind if she keeps it on for a while? I can tell she really likes the feel of it."
"Sure," was the quick reply. "Is there anything else you need?" she asked expectantly.
"Well, as a matter of fact, there is," Greg answered grinning. Leaning forward he pretended to whisper to Sara, "She's also looking for nipple clamps."
Sara's grin broadened at hearing that, and she quickly led them to a display case several feet away. "We have several different types of nipple clamps. What type were you looking for?" For the first time since we walked into the store, Sara was finally looking at Greg. She felt a nervous anticipation, as she began to sense what their relationship might be, and it wasn't repulsing her.
"I'm looking for clamps which won't fall off easily. I want the kind that can be tightened as much as you want since Mrs. C. here likes having her nipples pinched hard. Also, I want them joined together by a chain, so that I can lead her around by her nipples like a dog. Do you have anything like that?" Greg asked questioningly.
Greg could see Sara was a bit shocked by his frankness, but he also thought she was getting a little excited by it, as well. She rummaged through the display case for several seconds, until she finally produced a small silver pair of clamps, joined together by a medium length chain. Holding them up, she nervously asked, "Will these do?"
"I don't know," Greg said shaking his head. "I need to make sure they'll stay on. I've never used nipple clamps before, so I'm not sure how to use them. Would you mind putting them on Mrs. C. here, so I can see how to do it and to make sure that they'll stay on?" he asked as innocently as possible.
Looking around nervously she stuttered, "Well....umm....I don't know......I don't want to get in trouble. You sure you want me to?"
"Absolutely" Greg quickly replied. "But perhaps it would be best to lock the door, so we are not interrupted."
"Oh, that's a good idea" she replied as she practically ran over to the front door and threw the bolt. As the bolt slid home, with an audible click, Mrs. C. practically jumped off the ground. With that sound, she realized that Greg had something planned for her and that being interrupted before he had a chance to put his plan into action was no longer a possibility.
Sara practically came bouncing back to stand in front of Mrs. C., waiting for their next move. "You know, Mrs. C., it'll be a lot easier for us if you remove that blouse. That way we can see how they'll look, once they're on. Don't you think?" Greg asked her pointedly.
With a note of terror in her voice, she replied "Yes Sir," and, with shaking hands, began to undo the buttons on her blouse. When, at last, the final button was undone, she paused, before slowly parting the cloth and shrugging the blouse from her shoulder. Taking the blouse from her and hanging it on a rack beside him, Greg took the opportunity to sneak a glance at Sara. He needn't have tried to be sneaky, since she had eyes only for Mrs. C's breasts. Her mouth hung open, as she gaped at the exposed flesh.
When it appeared Sara wasn't going to move, Greg cleared his throat and said, "Go ahead and put them on for me, please."
His words seemed to snap her out of her reverie, and, with shaking hands, she reached up for Mrs. C.'s left nipple. Grasping the already hardened nipple with one hand, she pulled out slightly as she applied the clamp with the other hand. Again, Sara's hands seem to linger on her breasts for several seconds, before relinquishing their hold on the nipple. Reaching up, with her left hand now, she did the same to Mrs. C's right nipple. Once both clamps were affixed, Sara stepped back to admire her handiwork. Her face was now flushed with excitement, and her breathing had quickened.
"Now, you said these clamps can be tightened. Can you show me how?" It was quite obvious how it was done, but Greg wanted to see how far he could push Sara.
"Sure," she quickly replied as she stepped forward again.
"I want you to tighten them both at the same time," Greg explained. "I'll tell you when to stop. You see, Mrs. C. here is often a very bad girl, and she requires frequent punishment. One thing she always begs me to do is to punish her nipples, so this was why I thought the clamps might be a good idea," Greg improvised. By this time, Sara had reached up and was starting to slowly turn the screws on the clamps. Greg watched in fascination, as the clamps slowly closed on the nipples, causing the tips to become engorged with bl**d. The tighter they got, the more agonized the look on Mrs. C's face became. By this time, Sara was transfixed on Mrs. C's face, watching the discomfort, and eventually pain, she was causing her. But to my amazement, she never stopped turning the screws.
Once Mrs. C. began to mewl in pain, Greg told Sara she could stop tightening the clamps. He almost chuckled out loud when he saw the look of disappointment pass over Sara's face. At this point, it was quite obvious to him that Sara was in to women, and that she was enjoying dominating Mrs. C. "Alright, I want you to lead Mrs. C. around the store, like the little whore that she is." Greg's words again startled Sara, but without any further encouragement from him, she grabbed the dangling chain and began walking about the store, giving them a tug, every now and then, to keep Mrs. C. on her toes. "Go ahead and call her 'whore', Sara. She likes being called that."
This had Sara practically skipping through the aisles, as she now began to coax Mrs. C. around the store like she was a dog. "Come on whore, follow me. Stay close, whore."
Finally she reluctantly led Mrs. C. back to where Greg had been standing and stood there holding the chain, waiting for his next cue.
"Is there anything else you'd like for your whore?" she asked expectantly.
It was quite obvious Sara was in to this whole scene, and would be a willing participant to whatever Greg had planned. "Now that you mention it Sara, there is," he calmly replied. "I find myself needing to spank my whore often, and I really don't have the proper tools for the job. Do you have anything here for that?"
"Definitely," she replied in a breathless voice. Still holding the chain, she led them over to a display case against the far wall. In it were numerous implements, ranging from whips to paddles.
"Wow! That is quite the selection. Again, I have to beg ignorance here Sara. I've never used any of this stuff. Would you mind indulging me a bit more?" Greg asked as innocently as possible.
With no hesitation, she quickly replied in the affirmative.
Pretending ignorance, Greg pointed to a small wooden paddle, resembling a ping pong paddle, and said, "How about that one?"
Finally dropping the chain, she reached into the case, pulled out the paddle, and held it out for Greg.
Shaking his head, he said, "Oh no, not me. I'm not sure how to use it. Would you mind showing me how it's used?"
At this, Sara practically licked her lips in anticipation. "Sure," was her only response.
"Whore, take your skirt off. Sara has very generously agreed to teach us how to use these things," Greg ordered.
"Yes sir," she replied shakily and, with one fluid movement, stepped out of her skirt and was once again holding it out to him.
Taking the skirt and hanging it with her blouse, Greg instructed, "Bend over and grab your ankles whore. Spread your feet apart. Wider." When she was suitably presented with her legs spread wide, opening up her newly shaven pussy and ass to both Greg and Sara, he added, "Now, do not release those ankles under any circumstances. Is that clear whore?"
Mrs. C. nodded her head, as she hung upside down and mumbled a meek, "yes Sir."
"I'm sure you realize what the consequences will be should you move," Greg added for good measure. Turning to Sara, he instructed, "Go ahead and show me how to use that. I want you to hit her ass as hard as you can. I'll tell you when to stop. Would that be alright?" Greg asked.
Nodding her head yes, she stepped up to Mrs. C.'s ass, and taking aim, brought the paddle down hard on her left cheek.
The sound reverberated around the store. Greg needn't have worried about Sara holding back either, since it was quite evident she put everything into it. The f***e of the blow was almost enough to topple Mrs. C. Mrs. C. realized that, in order to not lose her balance, she would actually have to push back against the blow. This went against every fiber of her being, which just wanted to get away from the blow, not move towards it.
Sara continued her assault on Mrs. C's ass, alternating the blows to each cheek. In no time at all, both cheeks were completely red.
"Ok, that's enough," Greg finally said, after Sara had landed approximately 5 blows to each cheek. "What about that one, now?" Greg asked pointing to a leather cat-o-nine-tails.
Sara, now out of breath, simply put the paddle down, and quickly picked up the next device. No encouragement was needed from Greg, as she began laying in to Mrs. C.'s already reddened ass.
After another 10 blows from the cat-o-nine-tails, which left multiple red streaks across her ass, Greg again stopped Sara and pointed to the next implement. This one was a thin white cane.
Sara swished the cane through the air several times, before taking careful aim. As the cane made contact across both cheeks simultaneously, it sounded vaguely like the sound a bow makes when an arrow was fired.
A god-awful shriek erupted from Mrs. C., as an angry red welt appeared where the cane had made contact. Tears were flowing freely now as Mrs. C. practically danced on the spot in pain. To her credit, she didn't let go of her ankles, but Greg could see she wouldn't be able to take much more from the cane.
"Just one more with the cane will do, Sara," he instructed.
Without even thinking about it, Sara replied, "yes Sir," and then brought the cane down across Mrs. C's ass once more.
Another THWACK followed by a bl**d-curdling scream.
"Ok, just one more device I want you to demonstrate for me Sara." Greg pointed to a medium sized leather crop, which appeared to have a good amount of flex in its shaft.
Sara was completely flushed with excitement, and was breathing heavily, as she returned the cane and grabbed the crop. Once again, she swished it through the air several times to get a feel for it before landing a beautiful hit to Mrs. C's left ass cheek. She quickly followed that with another hit to the other ass cheek. As she continued her assault on the ass, Mrs. C. was by now a blubbering mess as she cried and mewled in pain. There also was a very strong smell of sex in the air, and Greg noted, with a grin, that Mrs. C's inner thighs were soaked with her juices.
Here she was, bent over naked in front of a strange girl, not much older than her own daughter, with clamps killing her nipples, and her ass a blistered mass of welts, and yet, she was getting turned on by the abuse and humiliation.
"Sara?" Greg asked, causing her to pause in her strokes, "Hold up for a second please."
"Whore, I want you to reach back with both hands and pull your ass cheeks apart for Sara." When she had done as requested, further humiliating herself in front of this stranger, Greg continued. "Sara, I want you to hit her asshole with that crop, as hard as you can. Are you Ok with that?" he asked.
"Oh, yes Sir," she quickly replied, licking her lips in anticipation. Taking aim, she brought the crop down hard right on the exposed bud.
"Ahhh" Mrs. C. bellowed, knees beginning to buckle from the torment. Again, to her credit, she kept her hands in place holding her cheeks apart. Greg could tell she was close, and just needed a little nudge to push her over the edge.
"Ok Sara, just one more stroke. This time, I want you to do an under-hand swing and hit her right on her clit and pussy lips."
"Yes Sir," she replied. No coercion was needed here.
When Mrs. C. had settled down and stopped moving, Sara took careful aim, and after several practice swings, brought the crop up hard right on Mrs. C's wet pussy lips.
Mrs. C's head snapped up, as her knees quickly buckled under her. All thoughts to keeping her hands on her asscheeks were long forgotten, as she crumpled to the ground, a low keening sound coming from her, with her hands buried deep in her tortured pussy. She began to convulse and shake on the floor, as a powerful orgasm ripped through her body.
After a minute or two had passed, Mrs. C. had finally settled down, and was now laying motionless on the floor, curled up in the fetal position. Her brow was covered in perspiration, and her cheeks were a mottled color from the exertion of her torment and orgasm. Looking at Sara, I could see she was perspiring, and her cheeks were also flushed with excitement and exertion. Her nipples were hard as rock under her t-shirt as she stared fixedly at Mrs. C.'s naked body at her feet.
Snapping Sara out of her trance, Greg informed her that, "I think I like the crop the best. It's precise but also was easy to cover a large area very quickly. I think we'll take that one."
Nodding her head, she placed the crop down on the counter top beside her. Greg had no doubt now that Sara would likely be game for anything that he had in mind. "There was one other thing I am looking for Sara," he explained. "Mrs. C. likes being fucked in the ass, so I am looking for some butt plugs of varying sizes, which she can wear for periods of time, to help stretch her asshole out for me. Do you have anything like that?" Greg asked, already knowing the answer to the question.
"Yes Sir, we do. Right over here," she points to another display case against the other wall. Walking over she reached in and pulled out several different sizes and held them up for my inspection.
"Her ass is very tight right now, so I think we'll start her out on that one there," pointing to a black one that was about 1 ½" wide at its widest point. "Then we'll probably progress to that black one there," he added pointing to one that was roughly 2" wide. "And then, when she's nicely stretched out or she needs to be punished, we'll go with the big one there," pointing to a big black monster that had to be close to 3" wide.
"Sara, I wonder if you would mind humoring me one more time." Greg asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.
"Of course," she replied excitedly, knowing what he was going to ask of her.
"Mrs. C., crawl over here and offer your ass up to Sara," Greg ordered.
Mrs. C. raised herself off the ground, where she'd been laying, and slowly crawled over to Sara. The chain attached to her nipples was just long enough that it dragged slightly on the ground as she moved. Once she was at Sara's feet, she put her head to the floor and, reaching back with both hands, pried her abused ass cheeks apart once more. Her ass was now turning a wonderful mixture of colors, as the welts and bruises darkened in color.
"Sara, why don't you go ahead and take some lubricant from her pussy, and then see if you can get the smallest one in her ass?"
"Yes Sir." Sara quickly knelt behind Mrs. C., and, with her left hand, jammed 2 fingers, knuckle deep, into Mrs. C's soaking wet pussy. A soft moan escaped Mrs. C.'s lips, as Sara worked a 3rd finger in the pussy. After fucking Mrs. C's pussy with her fingers for several seconds, she withdrew her now glistening fingers and began to lather the butt plug with the juices. Sara repeated this process several more times, until the plug was covered in pussy juices.
She then placed the tip of the plug at Mrs. C.'s asshole, and began to gently push it in. When Sara began to encounter resistance, she slowly pulled the plug out a little bit, and then pushed it back in again, with a little more f***e. She continued this slow fucking motion, entranced with the sight of Mrs. C's anal bud stretching and contracting around the butt plug, as she f***ed more and more of it into her. When the fattest part finally slipped into her, Sara reluctantly released her hold on the plug and stood up.
"Sit up, Whore," Greg ordered. At that, Mrs. C. raised her head off the ground and knelt at the feet of her new tormentor, nipple clamps still on her engorged nipples and, now, a plug filling her ass as well. "Do you have anything to say to the nice young lady?" he asked.
"Uh, thank you Ma'am..." She replied hesitatingly.
Bringing his right hand down hard across Mrs. C's her left cheek, the slap surprised both her and Sara. With some menace in his voice he growled, "You can do better than that, Whore. Thank you for what?" Greg asked again.
Cringing with fear at being struck again, Mrs. C. replied once more, with a tremor in her voice, "Thank you Ma'am for showing my master how to properly put nipple clamps on his whore."
Greg was stunned. This was the first time she had referred to him as her master. He hadn't expected that early an acknowledgment from her. In fact he had thought that it would be something that he would have to f***e on her, as he has had to do with this whole situation.
Not noticing Greg's look of surprise, since her head and eyes were now down, Mrs. C. continued. "And thank you for showing my master how to properly use the different tools to punish his whore, and for stretching this whore's ass, with the butt plug," she finished breathlessly, not daring to look up at Greg, for fear that she would disappoint him once more.
Raising her chin up to look at him, Greg gently praised her, "That was much better Mrs. C. Now tell me, do you like having your ass filled with that plug?"
Nodding her head slightly, she replied, "Yes Sir."
"Very good. Now tell me, Mrs. C, do you think Sara should be rewarded for being such a big helper?"
A very quiet "Yes Sir."
Turning to Sara, Greg informed her, "You've been such a wonderful help to both myself and my Whore. I'd like to pay you back for your kindness."
She began to reply, "oh no, that's not necessary. I..."
"No really, I do insist. You can do whatever you want to her as your reward."
"Anything?" she asks.
"Anything," Greg replied.
"Well, I've always wanted to try...but I've never had the opportunity to...you know," Sara mumbled in an embarrassed voice, "to...fuck a girl with a strap-on," she finally finished.
Beaming a big smile at her, Greg replied, "I think that's a wonderful idea." Stroking Mrs. C's hair, he asked, "Would you like to fuck her in the pussy or her nice tight ass?"
"Oh, I'd like to fuck her ass, if I could," she quickly replied.
"You most certainly can, Sara. Mrs. C. here would love it, wouldn't you, Whore?"
Walking to another wall display, Sara took down a black leather harness and, reaching into a display case to her left, pulled out a pink dildo that was about 7 inches long and about an 1 ½" wide. Holding it up, she asked me, "Is this ok, Sir?"
"That'll do just fine, Sara," Greg replied as she walked back over to stand in front of the kneeling Mrs. C. "Now before you begin, Sara, I want you to take your clothes off please."
After placing the harness and dildo on the counter beside her, and blushing a deep shade of red, Sara pulled off her t-shirt and unclasped her bra, revealing a very pretty little set of titties, with very hard nipples and dark areolas. When she appeared to be hesitant to go any further, as she stood there half-naked attempting to cover her breasts with one arm, Greg gently coaxed her on. "Now the pants and panties, Sara."
With a nervous smile, she hooked her thumbs in the elastic band of her stretch pants and pulled them down her legs, revealing a pretty pink thong, covering a small tuft of light colored hair above her slit. Once she had stepped out of her pants, she repeated the process for her panties.
When she finally stood naked in front of them, Greg couldn't help but admire her body. Though she wasn't as shapely as Mrs. C, her body had just enough curves to be sexy, and was tight in all the right places. It was evident she kept herself in good shape. "Wow, you are stunningly sexy Sara," Greg complimented her.
Blushing an even deeper red, she replied "thank you Sir."
"Now go ahead and get in that harness there." As she busied herself with the harness and dildo, Greg asked "what position would you like to fuck the Whore in?"
"I'd really like to have her on her back with her knees up beside her head, so that I can look into her eyes as I fuck her ass," she replied without any hesitation. Obviously this wasn't the first time she had thought about this.
"You heard her, Whore. On your back. Grab your legs. That's it, now raise that ass up." Once she was in position, she had an arm wrapped behind each knee, holding them as close to the sides of her head as she could. This raised her ass off the ground, and spread her pussy and ass quite nicely for them.
Sara then knelt before Mrs. C.'s offered ass and began working several fingers into her still moist pussy. When they were covered in juices, she applied them to her rubber cock. It was sort of surreal watching this pretty girl stroking her own cock. She repeated this procedure several more times, until her cock glistened. She then reached down and slowly pulled out the butt plug, marveling at how the sphincter stretched to accommodate the fattest part of the plug, and then watched the muscle immediately tighten up as the plug was removed. Once the plug was out of the way, Sara scooted forward again until her cock was poised at Mrs. C.'s asshole. Then, nudging the head in, she began to slowly work its length into Mrs. C.
Mrs. C. began to grunt and bite her lower lip in concentration, as more and more of the rubber cock made its way into her ass. This was the second time today that she had had a cock in her ass. When Sara had the full length of her cock buried in Mrs. C., she began to slowly fuck it in and out of her. Soon the strokes began to pick up in speed, and were now making a distinct slapping sound each time she bottomed out in her ass. Sara was staring intently at Mrs. C.'s face as she continued her assault on her ass. Sara was enjoying the sensations as well as each time she bottomed out in Mrs. C's asshole, the rubber cock would rub against her exposed clit sending waves of pleasurable sensations throughout her body.
Surprising everyone, Sara suddenly asked, "Please Sir, will you spank my ass with the crop, while I fuck your Whore? I've been a bad girl and need to be punished as well," she added meekly.
Not wanting to waste an opportunity, Greg quickly replied, "Of course."
With that, he took up the crop Sara had discarded earlier, and began laying into Sara's ass. He started off with light strokes, but as her ass reddened, Greg began to increase the strength of the blows. Soon Sara was grunting with each blow and was hammering her cock in and out of Mrs. C.'s ass as hard as she could.
"Yes, beat my ass Sir. I've been a very bad girl. Spank my ass as I fuck your Whore." She began to rant these phrases over and over, as she picked up the pace of her thrusts. Soon Mrs. C. was grunting right along with Sara and it was obvious she was close to cumming again.
"You have been a bad little girl, Sara," Greg admonished her, as he continued beating her ass, "and now you're going to make the Whore cum again," he pointed out.
"Yeah? Are you going to cum for me, you dirty little Whore?" And with that Sara grabbed hold of the chain connecting the two nipple clamps and began tugging hard on them while she continued to hammer away at Mrs. C's abused ass.
What a sight this was. Greg had never imagined, even in his wildest dreams, that something like this could have happened today. Yet here was this pretty little blonde thing, kneeling naked before him, wearing a large rubber cock, fucking the shit out of Mrs. C's asshole and torturing her nipples, all the while begging him to beat her ass with a crop. Greg was in heaven and didn't want it to end.
"Please, Ma'am, may I cum?" Mrs. C. begged of her tormentor.
"Yesss....cum for me, you Whore," Sara hissed between thrusts as she grew near to her own orgasm.
With that, Mrs. C. let out a mighty shriek, as her body began to convulse and shake beneath the weight of Sara. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and her mouth hung open, as she bucked and thrashed, while the waves of pain/pleasure rolled over her.
All of the thrashing around was enough to also push Sara over the edge, as she came in an explosive climax. As Sara shuddered and shook, all the while buried to the hilt in Mrs. C.'s ass, Greg stopped beating her ass to marvel at the two women caught in the throes of their own passion. Finally, Sara, almost reluctantly, began to pull her cock out of Mrs. C.'s ass.
"Take the harness and dildo off, Sara, and lay on your back beside the Whore," Greg ordered, fairly confident she would do as he instructed. Without hesitation, she did as she was told. Her shaven pussy lips were wet with her own cum, and her little clit was standing proudly at attention. "Whore, get on your knees and eat her pussy," Greg ordered Mrs. C.
When she was in position, with her faces only an inch away from this stranger's pussy, she tentatively stuck out her tongue and licked up the length of Sara's slit. It was obvious she had never eaten another woman out, before this. After a slight pause, where she apparently decided that she didn't mind the taste of pussy, she began to lick and suck on her clit and pussy in earnest. Soon it was Sara's eyes rolling into the back of her head, as she enjoyed the ministrations of this older submissive woman between her legs. She grabbed hold of a handful of hair, at the back of Mrs. C.'s head, and began to grind her pussy into her face, all the while driving her on to lick it harder and deeper.
By this point, Greg had about all he could take and was dying for release himself. So he quickly stepped out of his clothes, and, with an already hardened cock, knelt behind his slave, took aim at her already abused and stretched asshole, and drove it home to the hilt on the first thrust.
Mrs. C. was so engrossed in eating out her first pussy, that she was completely unaware of what Greg had planned. Her first indication of that plan was when she felt her asshole being invaded by a cock again. She howled in pain, as Greg drove his dry cock balls deep on the first thrust. This time he didn't pause and began hammering as hard as he could into her.
Sara, never relinquishing her hold on the back of Mrs. C's head, began berating her as she ground her pussy into her face. "You like that, Whore? Eating my cunt while your master fucks your asshole? Huh? You like having my cunt juices all over your face? That's it. Keep sucking my clit. Now stick a finger in my ass. Yeah, that's it."
Sara was close to her second orgasm of the day, as her breathing had quickened to an almost panting state, and Mrs. C. was sucking and licking as quickly as she could. The sights, sounds and sensations proved too much for both girls and their orgasms seem to overtake them at almost the same time.
Once their thrashing had slowed, Greg asked Sara, "Where do you want me to place my cum, Sara?"
"Cum on my pussy, Sir, and then make your whore lick it up," she replied.
With that, Greg quickly withdrew and scuttled up to Mrs. C.'s head, and, when his cock was less than an inch from her face, he began spurting a massive load all over Sara's pussy. When he had squeezed the last drop of cum onto her freshly eaten pussy, Mrs. C. began licking the cum off in long slow strokes of the tongue. Both Sara and Greg just marveled at the sight before them.
Once Mrs. C. had cleaned the last of the cum from Sara's pussy, she crawled over to Greg, took his cock in her mouth, and gave it a spit cleaning as well. Once it was also sufficiently clean, Greg stood up and donned his clothes. Sara took her cue from me, and also dressed at the same time. Meanwhile, Mrs. C. Continued to kneel at Greg's feet awaiting further instructions.
Crouching down, Greg tried to remove the nipple clamps as gently as he could, but, despite his best efforts, it elicited a sharp gasp and moan, as each clamp was removed, and the bl**d rushed back into the engorged and abused nipple.
Stroking her head affectionately, Greg praised Mrs. C. "You did very well today Mrs. C. I'm very proud of you. You have certainly earned my favor today." She practically beamed at the praise, and had a big grin on her face. "Now get dressed, gather up the things we are going to buy today, and take them over to the cash register."
As she got dressed and gathered up the clamps, crop, collar and 3 butt plugs, Greg took a moment to speak with Sara. "Thank you for helping me out today. You were a great help in the training of my slave."
Sara grinned back at him. "It was my pleasure, Sir." Handing him a scrap of paper with her name and number on it, she continued "and if you need my help at all with any future training, don't hesitate to give me a call. Anytime," she added suggestively.
"Count on it," was his reply as he headed out the door leaving Mrs. C. to pay for the items.
Once Mrs. C. was back in the car, and they were on their way home, Greg announced the next phase of his plan to Mrs. C. "I will be moving into your house this weekend. My parents won't care because they are too busy fighting and find me more of an annoyance or hindrance to their squabbles. They'll be happy to not be burdened financially with me anymore. Especially since neither of them have a job at the moment." He paused then, to give Mrs. C. time to absorb what he had said.
"But Sir, what will we tell Stacey?" She asked.
Greg had expected her to protest his plan quite loudly, and was quite shocked at her simple question instead. "We'll simply tell her that my parents are suffering severe financial problems, and that you offered to let me stay with you while they got things sorted out. It's not like you don't have the room. That 3rd bedroom has been vacant for as long as I've known you," he rationalized.
"Any problems with that Mrs. C.?" Greg asked.
"No Sir," she quickly replied.
They drove the rest of the way home in silence, giving Greg time to formulate his next step. With his recent success controlling Mrs. C, Greg suddenly realized what his next step was going to be. His lifelong dream was now within his reach - to finally have Stacey to himself. Little did Mrs. C. realize that she was going to help him get her own daughter.