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JaKatie Gets Fisted
by Katie (handjobexpert@hotmail.com)

* Katie Gets Fisted *

***
This happened in March of this year, with a cool dominant older woman. I got fisted!
***

I left school early that day, faking a dentist appointment and signing out at lunch time. I've been signing my own forms for years and so the forged note from my 'parents' didn't raise any eyebrows. Where I was headed actually wasn't far from school at all, in keeping with my mistress' '25 minute' rule, but I decided to drive to my 'real' appointment straight from school anyway, without bothering to go home and shower or change.

The woman I was meeting with apparently wanted me out of there "before my hubby gets home"; so maybe this was all going on without hubby's knowledge. His loss I guess, although honestly, I could do without having to satisfy a 'just watching' husband as well today. The scenario this woman had suggested to me, and therefore Mistress Cassandra, seemed delightfully clinical and impersonal, I'd prefer to keep it that way.

Of course I'm a slave-cunt and so I'll do what I'm told. If there were twenty homeless men she wanted me to blow waiting there, I'd do it. But sometimes situations can be that much more erotic if they're impersonal and only about the physical sensations. So many couples on those dating sites suggest 'meeting up for a drink first,' which is I'm sure a good way to ensure that the person you're meeting is who they say they are in their photos, and also doesn't define 'kinky play' as fucking yr corpse while wearing yr skin.

I'm not interested in discussing what people do on the weekend over a white wine in some bar in chapel street. I'm not going to fuck their hobbies, and the best encounters I've found, so far, occur when barely more than names are exchanged between knocking on the door and getting down to it.

This particular woman actually hadn't even told me her name. And I liked that. She was a housewife, of the fucking hot trophy-wife variety if her profile pictures were accurate from my area; blonde, busty, bored and debauched with a keen mind for things kinky and fetishistic.

Hopefully 'ma'am' as she wanted to be called didn't mind me being unshowered. It's not like I had fucked anyone else that day (though I had greased my arse up and kept a small plug in all morning in preparation for the afternoon, and it had been tempting...), and honestly, have you seen me? Would you object to me turning up at yr door in my tight blue and white chequered school-dress?

It only took ten minutes to drive to the address I'd been given. And by now I'm used to driving with my cunt leaking all over the place and only half my mind on the road. It was a nice large place, quiet street, big garden and driveway. I parked in the street a few houses up and took a moment to compose myself. As well as a few deep, shuddering breaths to try and put a lid on my horniness, this involved putting on black latex collar and wrist cuffs, all featuring d-rings for easy bondageability.

I slipped out of my school shoes and into white knee- high lace up, high heeled latex boots. Fucking in boots, I just have a thing for it. Over the top of those went latex cuffs similar to the ones on my wrists, fastened at the ankles.

A quick look around to make sure the neighbourhood was still quiet, then I opened the door and hurriedly walked up the street, up the driveway and to knock on the door. Thankfully no-one saw me, no curious neighbours to question why a schoolgirl in slut boots and slave cuffs was walking up to this woman's house. Even then, most people see the dress and the bag and don't think about the rest of it, but it was still a small relief.

My knock was answered almost instantly. As calm, cool, and seasoned as we try and be in these situations I find almost all of us, regardless of role, are absolutely jumping out of our skin with the anticipation of how the whole hookup is going to turn out. I mean it's not hard to be, you're meeting a complete stranger, who could be anyone, your only contact has been email, maybe a phone call, some photos online of what could easily be someone else, and you're going there with the express purpose of fucking them.

So I will confess to experiencing some relief when she answered the door and resembled her profile pictures to a t. Most people usually do, but hey...in this case I can say she was actually hotter in the flesh. She was about 37, had a perfect, gym-toned body and surgery- augmented breasts. She was dressed in a short skirt, dark stockings, flats and a tight brown blouse opened to reveal her impressive cleavage.

She wasn't wearing a bra, but if she had been, she just seemed the type to have been wearing something black, lacy, and expensive. Her makeup was understated and stylish, her long, blonde hair contrived to look expensively manicured even when just hanging loose as it was now, and her face bore an expression of cool appraisal as she looked me up and down, in my school- cum-slavegirl uniform. I obviously satisfied her gaze because she smiled slightly and said 'Katie obviously, come in then, cunt.'

Words and language play a big part in the eroticism of this lifestyle for me, I have to admit. There's nothing fucking sexier than watching my mistress fuck a guy with a strap-on while she calls him 'faggot,' for instance. Just that word, the way she says it as she pounds them rougher than any gay porno I've ever seen, it's hot. In fact we have a few rules about words and language designed to remind me of her dominance over my daily life, as you'll shortly see.

So the fact that I didn't learn this woman's name, simply called her 'ma'am,' and she only used my name that one time, for the rest of our time together referring to me with various derogatory terms served to remind me of my place as an instrument for her pleasure, made the experience all the more exciting for me. This woman was dominant, and wasn't shy about it. I like women who dominate me and don't bother to check if it's okay. Slaves are people, just inferior, subhuman ones. If we have limits or truly aren't comfortable with something, we'll object. It's much more erotic just to trust in that and dominate from the get go, without making sure everything's okay.

She led me into a plush lounge-room, took my bag from me and placed it in a corner, then sat down on a black leather couch to face me, still standing in the deep shag carpet in the middle of the room. Crossing her legs, she took out a cigarette then lit it, exhaling slowly before saying 'kneel, bitch, hands behind your head, chest out.' I promptly obeyed, kneeling before her, just in range if she stretched her legs out. I thrust my chest out, put my hands behind my head and looked up expectantly, careful not to look her directly in the eye until I was given permission. This slavecunt knows her place.

She gave another of those brief smiles, not quite a smirk, then kicked off her shoes and extended one long, toned leg, touching my face with her stockinged foot. She probed my lips with her toes and I acquiesced immediately, opening wide and allowing her to insert some toes into my mouth. I pride myself in being able to anticipate some of my dommes' expectations - and hey if I'm wrong, there's nothing more fun than being brutally disciplined for such shameful pride - and so began to demonstrate some of my expert blowjob technique on her foot.

This was definitely more for show than blow, and just to make things easier (that carpet looked expensive) I used a hell of a lot less spit than I normally do. For my impudence I was rewarded with a smile as she withdrew her foot, and a gentle kick in the side of the face. 'You've sucked a lot of cock, haven't you slut?.' I replied 'yes ma'am' as I swallowed a few times and drew myself back up into the kneeling-upright position.

She got up from the couch and stood towering over me, still appraising me like the expensive cut of meat I am. 'Tell me, slut... what is your mistress' name again?' She asked, drawing on her cigarette.

'It's Cassandra, ma'am,' I replied, unsure where this was going. My legs and arms were starting to ache a little but I'd handled much worse before.

'What was that? Speak louder slut, I didn't hear you' she said sharply.

'I'm sorry ma'am, her name is Cassandra.'

'Hmmmm,' she took another drag, then leaned over me, exhaling in my face. She reached out and slipped a finger under the button-up collar of my school dress. With one deft movement she ripped it open, popping all the buttons, exposing my cleavage. Holding her cigarette between her teeth, she grabbed the collar and twisted downwards, ripping the cloth to a point somewhere below my tits. The thin cotton, stretched by my arms being held upright, made this a lot easier.

'Drop yr arms to yr sides,' she said, and I complied. The dress fell further down my body, and she took out my 14dd tits, unhooking my bra and throwing it aside, letting my perky young girls swing free. My tits are my best asset, and she seemed to agree, lifting them in her hands, kneading them, pinching my nipples so hard I involuntarily drew breath, before taking a step back and resuming her contemplation of me.

'Arms back up.' Again, I complied.

'Tell me again whore, the name of yr mistress, quick!' she snapped. 'Cassandra!' I replied, a little urgently, although I dared not let any of my curiosity show in my voice... where was she going with this? Oh, fuck...the evil grin that appeared on her face. That rule. The one I forget sometimes.

Grinding out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray, still grinning, she turned and said 'yes, I know. I've spoken to MISTRESS Cassandra. She told me you're to always refer her as MISTRESS Cassandra, and if you are so fucking stupid a little whore as to forget to speak of MISTRESS Cassandra with the respect she deserves, you have to do a little penance, don't you?.'

Yup, it's true, if I forget to refer to her as Mistress Cassandra three times in a row: 'Yes ma'am,' I gulped in reply. To be honest I was playing up my fear a little bit. I get off on pain and actually like this particular punishment. I do it very occasionally when masturbating just for fun, but it's generally one of those special tortures I reserve to please my mistress.

'Well then, you know what to do, don't you?' she smiled. Turning to the couch, she took another cigarette from the packet she'd left there and lit it, handing it to me. I took it with my left hand, taking the right from behind my head to cup my right boob and hold it up. Announcing clearly, aloud, as I'd been ordered to do if I had to complete this penance.

I said, 'I apologise, Mistress Cassandra,' adding to my dome, 'and you, ma'am,' then pressed the lit cigarette to the skin of my right areola, butting it out on my skin, burning myself in the process. I sucked in a breath, hissing through gritted teeth, as the burning embers singed my flesh. Being burnt with a cigarette isn't as bad as you've probably been lead to believe actually. It's certainly not as bad as being burnt with a lighter. But it still hurts a fuckload.

But then again, things that hurt just generally make me wetter.

I looked up, again avoiding my dominant housefrau's eyes, but still catching the massive horny grin threatening to break out over her face. 'Good,' she said, the cool tone of her voice developing a slightly husky timbre and catching in her throat just a little.

'You're as obedient as you claim to be. The kitchen's over there dear. Go put some cold water on the burn, then return here and resume the same position, wait for me.' I did as I was told, soothing the heat with some cool water from the tap, before returning to my kneeling position in the lounge-room, now empty.

I probably spent two minutes kneeling upright like that, hands on the back of my head, elbows out, all muscles taught and under tension, waiting for her to return. The carpet was so deep I wouldn't have been able to hear her walking back into the lounge. So when I suddenly felt the sharp sting of what can only have been her foot connecting with my tailbone, sending me flying forward, almost unbalancing me.

I barely caught the urge to cry out in time, suppressing my yell into a strangled grunt. I caught my balance and drew myself upright again. I confess to feeling a little pride that my hands had stayed in their position at the back of my head. Don't worry...after I'm done writing this I'm going to have a cigarette. I'll punish myself when it comes time to stub it out.

She chuckled a little, then grabbed me by my ponytail, used it to draw me back, pulling upwards so I had no choice but to scramble to my feet. She then lifted me by the waist - holy shit, she must work out! - and literally threw me into the couch.

I hit the wooden edge and this time I couldn't stop myself from crying out, before rolling onto the ground and landing on my hands and knees, hitting my head on the floor. It dazed me a little so it took me a few seconds before I returned to the same upright-kneeling position, hands behind head, though this time facing away from the couch.

The sight that met me? Wow. All I can say. She was in some kind of lingerie that had to have been custom made, it fit her so well. A combination of dark lace (I knew it!) and latex. Corset, thigh-high stockings, suspenders, garter belt, no panties, breasts exposed, high heels. Holy shit! It fitted her lithe, athletic body perfectly, and, with her blonde hair now pulled back severely into a tight pony tail, suited her stern, mature good looks. What I'm trying to say is my domme looked hot as hell.

In her hands she held a pile of bondage implenta. Placed behind her in the middle of the room was a padded horse, the kind you use for vaulting in gyms and are so useful in the adult games we like to play behind the closed doors of suburbia. If only the people walking past in the street could see through the front garden and drawn curtains to what was going on in here.

She threw a spreader bar and a chain with a dog-clip at each end at my feet. 'You know what to do, bitch,' she said, and I did. I attached the spreader bar to the d- rings on the cuffs around my boots, it kept my legs spread a good three-feet apart. Then with practiced ease I attached the chain to the wrist cuffs. It's not as hard as it sounds. She leaned over me and attached a leash to the d-ring on my collar, and hauled me upright, choking me slightly.

Standing with my legs spread so wide wasn't too bad, and the feeling of the latex of my boots stretching tight against my legs was lovely. She hauled me over to the horse - moving with the spreader bar was a different story altogether, but something that's easy once you've got the hang of it - and then shoved me forward onto it. As I hit I went limp, effectively making my body flop over onto the other side, lifting my arse up into the air.

The horse had a series of holes on both sides near the corners, in which metal rings could be mounted. She quickly set about doing this, attaching my feet with a short length of chain looping through the shackles and wrapped around the spreader bar, locked at one end with a padlock. She ordered me to lift myself up and placed her hand on my back, commanding me to stop when my body was almost at a right angle to my legs. Using the chain to drag my cuffed wrists down, she placed rings nearer the top on the other side of the horse and again attached me with another length of chain. My balance was upset slightly with my center of gravity forward and I felt like an animal on display, it was wonderful!

The horse to which I was now chained was positioned under a brass light fitting hanging from the ceiling. She took a further length of chain and looped it over the light fitting, one end attached to my leash. Pulling my head upwards so I was looking straight ahead at a slightly upwards angle, she slipped a leather thong around the base of my pony tail, drew it tight and then looped the chain to the precise length and attached it to the thong.

I now had two chains holding my head in position, one pulling my hair and one choking me slightly around my throat. The tension was set so I had to hold my head in that position - at crotch height, natch - otherwise either my hair would pull painfully, or the choke- collar would cut too tightly against my throat. It was a masterful bondage arrangement. Simple, sexy, slightly painful.

I heard the unmistakable click and whirr of a digital camera, my suspicions confirmed when she stepped into the field of view available to my now immobilised head and took a few more shots. She then dragged a coffee table into position so I could just see it, and the arrangement of lube, dildos, gag, and crop arrayed on it out of the corner of my eye.

Some dommes like you to be noisy and incompliant, pretend like you're innocent and don't want any of the depravations they're inflicting on you. Others like you to be quiet and acquiescent, humbly submitting like the perfect little whore to everything they inflict, until they find yr personal breaking point and make you scream in various combinations of pleasure and agony (I like those ones the best!). She'd been meticulous in planning this scenario in her emails, and so as she placed the ball-gag in my mouth and buckled it underneath the base of my ponytail, I knew that was the signal that I could now be as loud as I liked. Less chance of neighbours hearing I guess.

Just, incidentally, how fucking good are ball gags? I often wear mine at home - after my parents are asleep or if they're out - just for fun while I'm doing my homework, watching TV, idly playing with myself. Hell, I'm wearing it right now as I type this! I love the feeling of being gagged, the way yr spit ends up dripping out the bottom of yr lip all around them, the feeling of yr mouth being stretched, so sexy!

She took a few more photos with the camera and then placed it on the table, lifting the crop, making sure I could see. All this was being done in silence and all the more erotic for it. I could hear the rustling of cloth as I felt my now-ruined dress being lifted higher up to expose my naked arse. The snip of scissors in fabric as she cut my black g-string from my body. Then the whoosh of the crop just before I felt the sting as it hit my arse with a snap.

The sting and the shockwave rippled all the way up my spine, rocking my body forward. My chains clanked, I grunted against the gag. She was definitely strong and her swing was powerful. She continued cropping me, my whole body responding to each impact with a twitch and high, guttural grunt, which would probably have been a yell if it weren't for the gag. She methodically worked me all over my arse cheeks and the backs of my thighs, still in complete silence, as she said in her email, 'warming up' my skin.

The blood was rushing around that part of my body. I could feel my pussy opening up, dripping thick goo down my legs and the front of my dress. My sphincter was clenching and relaxing, in anticipation of what I knew was coming next. She again took photos; my red arse and thighs, my face, sweat streaked, red, drool escaping my mouth around the gag, loose strands of hair stuck to my forehead with sweat. She put the camera and crop down and picked up the bottle of lube, again walking slowly behind me, taking my time, teasing me.

My pussy was absolutely pulsing by now and I couldn't help but groan long and low. I heard her chuckle and mutter 'you whore, you really want this huh.' I groaned my acknowledgement and tried to nod, choking off my groan as the collar bit into my throat. My anus went into pulsation-overtime as the first drop of lube hit it. She began massaging it into my butthole, still a little open from my attentions earlier in the day. It wasn't long before she slipped her thumb in, eliciting another groan from me.

She withdrew her thumb, placing it on the skin below my arsehole, pulling tight, stretching my arse open, to drip more lube in. As she did she said 'you did clean yrself out for me, right, whore?' I tried to say 'yes ma'am' through the gag and again choked myself trying to nod. I'd given myself an enema prior to lubing up that very morning. I regularly enema myself anyway, they feel sexy.

'Good' she said, and continued massaging lube into my anus, inserting a finger this time, then quickly two. She began thrusting them in and out in a circular motion, periodically stretching her fingers to widen up the penetration as she continued pouring lube all over me, it was now dripping down to my cunt and down my arse. She must not worry about the cleaning bills because there was nothing down to protect the carpet from all the fluids that must be by now dripping off me; spit, sweat, pussy juice, butt grease, lube. But then again she looked pretty wealthy, from the house and the quality of toys being used on me here. I wish we could all live a life of such luxury.

Her hand holding the lube bottle gently massaged my arse cheeks with it, keeping the blood circulating in the area, as she continued to work fingers into my anus. Four now, the thumb probing. I've had huge things up my elastic arse before, including fists, so I know it's possible, but the feeling of fullness, of being expertly massaged to open up like that, is so, so wonderful, something I hope I never get used to!

The thumb was in and she gradually worked her way, penetrating me deeper, getting in to her wrist. This was the part I loved the most, as she got deeper and began to make a fist inside me, working her hand in towards my bowels. My whole body was quivering now, my legs trembling uncontrollably, my back flexing, my head flopping around, flexing against the restrictions of the two chains. I was moaning and groaning continuously through my gag, spit flooding from my mouth, down my chin, onto my tits. My ruined dress was practically hanging from me by now, and the chains were all rattling and clinking as my body trembled.

My domme let out the occasional sigh and quietly said things like 'oh, nice, you like that' but otherwise remained silent. I imagine she had that same small smile on her face as she intently concentrated on opening up my anus though. Soon she was properly fisting me, working her arm in and out with her hand inside me, working up a rhythm, gently fucking me with her fist. After a few minutes she withdrew her hand from my arse with a loud, sticky, sucking pop. That feeling, like you're shitting something the size of a baby, is something else I'll never get used to, I hope! A huge dollop of cunt goo literally dripped out of me as she did that.

Walking slowly in front of me, she again smiled, placing the lube bottle on the table and taking up the camera. She stopped in front of me long enough to catch my attention, and put all four fingers in her mouth, sucking the combined lube and my arse-juice off them, before returning around behind me with that slow- teasing walk. My cunt dripped again. That was hot.

The camera clicked a few times and then was thrown gently onto the same armchair I had sat in before. She had a few photos of my gape and that's all she wanted. Personally I would've gotten a few photos of her fist in my anus, but these photos weren't for my pleasure. My pleasure was to be there, tired up, fulfilling her desires.

And pleasure it was, my body was still trembling uncontrollably, and I experienced a brief moment of panic...what if I passed out and choked? But that thought evaporated as soon as her fist went back up my arse. She went knuckles first this time, the stinging bite against my ring sending searing pain up my spine, quickly followed by waves of orgasmic pleasure as her fist penetrated me deep, thrusting up inside so hard and quick I expected it to come out my mouth. I came. I shook. My chains rattled.

I screamed through my gag. My head shook, I choked, spit flew from my mouth as I gagged and tasted bile. Cum dripped down over my legs from my pussy. My anus rippled and pulsed around her hand and wrist as she fist-fucked me. My domme lost her cool for a moment and squealed with delight, before resuming fisting me. I rode the cum straight through into a second, then collapsed against my chains. She still didn't let up and I felt like I was going to explode, my all the pleasure in my body was going to come boiling out of me through every skin pore and orifice. I came a third time, I squirted like a fire-hose, all over her stocking-clad legs and expensive carpet. I felt like I left my body for a little while.

When I came back my body was trembling and I felt like I'd simultaneously shit half my body weight and run a marathon. I could barely hold myself upright. Sweat was pouring off my face onto the carpet with audible dripping noises. She was standing in front of me, removing my gag, holding her hand up to my mouth.

Despite my tiredness, my body wanting to just curl into a ball and pass out, I eagerly extended my sore tongue and licked, drawing in the moisture to my mouth, savouring the taste of my arse juice and lube as I sucked her fingers and tongued her forearm clean. She smiled and gently patted my face 'good whore,' she said. 'Good little cunt-bitch, and we've still got time to play some more.'

She loosened the slack on my head-chains and stood before me, legs spread, guiding my head into her cunt. I knew what to do. I've been licking cunt since I was fifteen. My tongue is pierced, and I'm an expert. She was shaved, delicious, and sopping wet. She twisted her hands in my hair and cooed 'good whore, good little whore' as I lapped away eagerly at my domme's delicious cunt, trying my best to repay her for the pleasure she just gave me.

I doubt it was more than two minutes before her grip tightened, she grunted 'ohhh,' with a rising note on the end, she tensed, up on tip toes, and then with a long, loud 'AHHH!' her body relaxed and her hot cunt juice flooded into my mouth. And kept flooding, into my mouth, out of my mouth, down my chin, onto the floor. I love squirters!

She leaned forward, hands on my head, pushing it down, panting, while she recovered from her cum. I took the chance to relax my body a little as well. When she finally took a step back from me, she had composed herself again, and gave me yet another of those sexy smiles and said 'you are well trained, aren't you?.'

I swallowed through my dry mouth and gasped out 'yes ma'am, thank you for letting me taste yr delicious cunt ma'am.'

She set about releasing me from my bondage, but I didn't actually get up until she tapped me on the back and said 'up.' Obedience matters. It was damn good to stretch my aching muscles though. She took a thick, black strap-on dildo from the table and threw it on to the chair. 'lose the chain and bar, and dress, and put that on, then sit.' She busied herself with packing up the chains and horse, taking them off down the hall to wherever they were kept out of the sight of the prying eyes of normal people.

By the time I was naked but for my boots, collar and cuffs, and her strap-on, sitting in the chair, she was done and returned with several condoms. Taking one from a packet and throwing the rest on the table, she rolled it on to my fake dick, tugging me down into a slouched/sitting position as she did.

Then without any further word, she spread her legs and mounted me in a cowgirl position, taking me balls deep. Grabbing a handful of my boobs in each hand and sitting on the cock, she looked me in the eye and said, 'Now, you, sit still, and shut up. Don't thrust, don't hump, don't do anything. You're not meant to enjoy this, you don't have the power even though you're fucking me. You're just a holder for a dildo for me to pleasure myself with.'

With that, she started rocking back and forth, building up very quickly until she was in full bounce, nails digging into my tits, hard enough that she broke the surface of the skin in a few places, drawing a few tiny drops of blood.

She rode me still harder and harder, all in silence except for the squelching of her cunt and the noises my naked arse made rubbing against the leather of the chair. I was biting my lip to keep silent, but she wasn't...this woman's control was amazing, and so fucking sexy. She seemed intent on cumming with a ferocious determination. And she left me feeling the power of her words...I was a slave cunt, my body was just a lump of meat for her to use to orgasm. This was so sexy.

Her cum came in the same way, she tensed, seemed to lift up, go completely still for a second, and then bam! It came in a flood. She sat on top for a while, gently rocking herself on the dildo, before standing up. 'Stay,' she told me, then busied herself taking the condom from my fake dick, together with my bra and panties, and throwing them into a waste basket in the corner. Turning to me she said 'stand,' which I promptly did. She took the harness off me, acting as if I was just another inanimate object, then re-arranged the furniture, finally cleaning my sweat off the leather of her chair with my school dress, which she bundled up with the other toys, saying 'I'm keeping this, whore.'

I just stood there in the living room, watching this all being done, waiting for her next command. Once everything looked exactly like it was, my carpet stains already almost invisible, she picked up the other dildo from the coffee table. It was black as well, about the same size but much thicker, with a suction cup base. This she wet with her spit, then walked into the hallway near the front door and stuck it to the floor. Testing the suction, she then rolled a condom onto it.

Turning to me, she commanded 'come here,' Then, indicating the dildo, she said 'mount it.' I did, obediently, promptly, and hell, eagerly. MY sticky cunt was open and ready and it felt soooo good sliding down the thick shaft. I stayed there, legs open, hands clasped behind my back, squatting on the dick. She leaned against the hallway wall, looking at me, idly toying with the strap-on she was holding in her hands.

After another of those long, appraising glances, she said 'put on a show for me whore. Let me watch a sexy little teen bitch fuck herself with that big thick cock.' I needed no encouragement and immediately went into super-whore mode, putting on a better show than the most expensive camgirl ever. I bounced up and down on the dick. I moaned, I twisted my hands in my hair. I felt myself. I played with my tits, I frigged my clit, I even slipped a finger in my butt. Mostly though I just grabbed my arse cheeks and, using all the strength of my thighs, bounced up and down on that wonderful thick tool. It felt soooooo amazingly good. After the kind of fucking I received it wasn't deep I needed, I just needed to fill full and stretched. I gripped my boots and leaned forward, feeling the cock hit all those magic spots inside me.

She kept playing with the dildo while she watched this show. By now I had cum so hard all I could keep doing was just fuck myself, bouncing on the cock like the whore I am, enjoying the feeling, not even bothering to work up to a cum. She stood over me and dangled the dildo in my face, laughing at me, stretching it just out of the reach of my tongue, before thrusting it into my mouth and gagging me, fucking my face, then drawing it out, leading me with it like a donkey with a carrot, almost making me lose my balance.

This continued for about half an hour before she put her foot on my head and pushed, sending me flying off the dick backwards, to land against the front door, a panting mess. 'Enough,' she said, then commanded me to stand, which I did, legs spread to feel the cool late- afternoon air coming in from underneath the front door on my cunt, hands clasped behind my back.

Turning to the hallstand, she took up an envelope and a roll of black electrician's tape. On the envelope was written 'Mistress Cassandra.' I later found out it was a 'thank you' note, written on polite mum-style stationary. The kind of note she would make her kids send after going to a friend's birthday party. Cute. And sexy as hell, in a very perverted way. Taking the envelope and tearing off a few strips of the tape, she placed it against my left breast and taped it to the skin, making sure to pull it tight so the tape would hurt coming off. 'That stays there until you see yr mistress,' she said, calmly, as if talking to a child. Thankfully I was seeing her tonight so I wouldn't have to skip showering.

She took another strip of tape and a five-dollar note. Rolling up the note, she slipped it up my cunt, then placed the tape on my slit, again tight, sealing the money in there. 'That's for petrol...whore' she smiled. Fuck, I felt so used...it was great! The final things she took off the hall table were a cotton, patterned summer dress, and what looked like a white rag. Handing me the dress she said 'put this on' and I did. So I wasn't going to be walking out to the car naked. Good.

Walk out to my car - fully clothed - we did, after she collected my bag from the living room. Such a mum, but mums don't surreptitiously grope my arse and finger my crack while walking down the street. I got in and wound down the window to say goodbye. She threw the white rag into the car and held her hand out, saying 'my dress.' Oh, okay. Umm... HOT!

I slipped the dress off and handed it to her, sitting naked in the driver's seat except for my collar, cuffs and white boots, note taped to my chest and five dollar note taped in my cunt. She turned around and walked off without a further word. I haven't heard from her sense, although Mistress Cassandra chats to her on msn apparently.

I took the money out of my cunt, the tape hurt coming off, it was great. I'd love to leave it in there but toxic shock syndrome wouldn't be fun. I picked up the rag... shit... it was a t-shirt. A cut off one. I pulled it on and it barely came past my nipples. It had 'whore' written on it in texta. I guess I was going to go directly to Cassie's house, with its lockup garage attached to the house, so no one in the street could see me like this, rather than home to my parent's house.

Worn out, relaxed, better than sitting in class all afternoon, I started the car and headed off towards Cassandra's house.

Well, I hope you liked the story guys! Time for a cigarette! Oh, and one more thing... for the third time... CASSIE!

Lolz! Seeya!

END


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