Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/AMY.TXT

Text File | 1994-07-16 | 29.6 KB | 458 lines

amy3.txt

Let me tell you a little bit about me.  When my great adventure began, I was
young, age 25, and not very experienced.  Oh, I had sex any number of times,
in a number of different ways, but I never felt the wild excitement in
actually doing those things that I imagined in advance. I had a million
different, very kinky fantasies, things that I really wanted to do but was
afraid to try, even if I had the opportunity to try, which I really didn't
have.

Mostly, my fantasies involved me as a sort of slave girl, captured by some
strong individual.  Some days I imagined my master to be a male and sometimes
a female, with special events for each one. What I thought I really wanted was
a strong master or mistress, one who also had wild sexual fantasies, and who
would take charge of me and would then act out those fantasies, obviously with
me playing out the part of slave girl, used by master (or maybe better yet,
mistress) in strange and delicious ways, hopefully with an audience watching,
and most delicious of all, whether I liked it or not.  I wanted strange and
sexy things to happen and not have any say as to the agenda, to be used,
perhaps even to be a little bit abused.

My figure is good, that is, I think it is good, and maybe you will agree, that
is, you will if you like full bodied girls with large, shapely titties.  I am
tall, about 5'7", with a nice, full shapely bust, good legs, and a delicious
round bottom.  I love being nude, and enjoy other people seeing me nude.  I
have even posed nude for a guy, just for fun, very naughty, very sexy
pictures, like me masturbating for him, with a large rubber dildo, or, for
example his favorite shot, me urinating for him, the stream shooting out like
a waterfall.  I did find that very exciting (though I would just die if those
pictures ever got out) and no, I won't show YOU the pictures, either.  I also
did pose nude once for a very, very sexy amateur lady photographer, but that
is completely a different story that I do not intend to tell you today.  All I
will say about that is that she was dressed when she took the first pictures
of me, she was nude when she took the last pictures of me, and the very best
pictures would have been taken a while later, but by then, frankly, she was
too busy to think about taking pictures. She had her mind on something else
(and her tongue into something else, too).

I love reading about kinky sex.  Sometimes I go to the porno shops, to look at
the fascinating things they write about, and to look at the exciting array of
rubber dildos and accessories that they sell.  I even bought a couple of those
things, strictly as a scientific experiment, you understand. I know a nice
shop in Miami that sells remarkable stuff and I have purchased four different
dildos and a couple of rubber butt pluggers.  I adore playing with these toys,
and had a secret fantasy about somebody else putting them into me (instead of
me doing it myself).  If it was a super-sexy guy who did it, and if he started
me out with a nice, bare bottomed spanking, that would be just great.  And if
it was a marvelous, beautiful, dominant super sexy lady who did it to me, that
would be the greatest!

In one of the shops I found a magazine, a Swingers Journal that seemed
interesting.  It had just fascinating pictures, especially in the B&D area
that was my particular excitement at the time. The ads seemed like fun.  One
of these showed a guy whose area of interest was in spankings, enemas, and
Greek things about which I had many secret thoughts but not much real
experience.  I decided that I would answer this particular ad, not intending
ever to meet this guy, but rather, just to hear what he had to say.  A week or
so later I got a letter from him, with a nude picture.

His name was Tom.  He was a divorcee.  He was about 35, well built, well hung,
too.  And he was holding a leather paddle in his hand and hanging from the
ceiling next to him was a large enema bag, a long rubber hose attached to it,
and connected to the end of that, a black rubber-looking device that got
inserted into the recipient of this enema, and really did the work.  It looked
like a huge, erect, black penis.   Believe me, it was an impressive picture.

His letter told about how he liked to be masterful, how he thought that there
was no sight so beautiful as a naked, shapely, female bottom, and nothing he
liked to do so much as to pet it, to kiss it, and to spank it until it was
rosy pink.  Then, when she was fully ready and receptive, to give her a long,
slow, deep enema, filling her fuller than she had ever been filled before,
using, of course, a Bardex so that she could not expel it until permitted. And
then to lubricate her pretty asshole, greasing it generously until it was
slippery, and then to fuck it deeply and firmly.  His letter excited me
tremendously.  He became an instantaneous member in my library of fantasies.

I wrote back to him, he replied again, and this time included a telephone
number.  I stared at that for a long time.  I knew that calling the number was
taking a very serious step, that there was at least a chance that I would
follow up and visit him at, as he described it, his Domination Laboratory.

I did call the number. When he replied, his voice was much as I expected it to
be, and the conversation also was about what I had expected.  We agreed to
meet, not at his place, but on neutral ground, at a certain coffee shop,
nothing else promised but the meeting.  I was willing to go that far in
advance, but no further at all.  Oh, I knew I would go ahead and meet him at
the coffee shop, but I did have serious doubts about whether I would go from
there to his place.

The day of the meeting came, and as promised, I went.  In fact, I got there
early so that I could scout out the scene, and if he showed, and if I did not
like his looks up close, I could sneak out.  Well, he did show up on time, and
I did like his looks.  We had an fascinating conversation about everything
else in the world except sex.  We found a million things to talk about, found
lots of areas of common interest, a few fun things to fight about, too.

After a long time, maybe as much as a couple of hours, it was time to leave.
I declined to go to his place yet, but since I did not have a car with me, I
had hopped on the bus to get there, he drove me home.  As luck would have it,
a vacant parking place was right there almost at my front door.  He walked me
to the door, and right into my apartment. What happened next was an awful long
way from what our letters talked about.  We were soon petting and in short
order he had me out of my sweater and bra, and soon out of everything else.
He got me very excited, undressed himself and showed off a nice looking, very
erect penis.  We did have very nice, normal sex.  It was fun, pleasant, and
certainly not earth shaking.  I am not even sure now that he made me cum that
night. I don't think so, but then, I rarely do in regular intercourse.  He
called me again the following week.

Soon, we were dating, more or less regularly, having good sex once or twice a
week, but no domination, no spankings.  One evening we did go to his place.
This time, he showed me his laboratory, a room in the basement with wood
paneled walls, a large, sturdy oak library table with a gym mat as a top, and
a rubber sheet over it.  That was the laboratory.  We wondered what it would
be like if I was up on it, bottom©up.  I complied.  Attached to each leg of
the table was a leather strap.  He put a leather dog collar around each of my
wrists, and then fastened the wrist to one of the leather straps, stretching
my arms out wide, and helpless.  Very quickly, my ankles were similarly
fastened.  I was now spreadeagled, completely under his control.  Did he now
take charge completely?

Absolutely not.  He talked to me, and came back to our early correspondence,
and what I had told him I wanted him to do.  And all this time, his hands were
wandering over my bare ass.  Suddenly, SPLATT!!! He whacked me with his big,
bare hand across my ass.  It stung a little bit, but certainly did not really
HURT.  Again.......and again....a few more times.  Then he went to the closet.
He took out a leather strop.  Long and wicked looking.  He talked to me
somemore.  And then he raised the strop and swished it, fairly hard, across my
ass.  It did hurt, but it felt good at the same time. He gave me a fairly
thorough spanking that day, followed by the love enema he had talked about.. a
long, slow enema that took 20 or 30 minutes to go in.  Along the way a couple
of times I told him that I could not take any more.  Each time, he would stop
the water flow for a while until I got used to the feeling...and then start it
again.  Eventually, he gave me as much as he wanted me to have, but then he
made me keep it in for a while longer.

After he finally did let me expel it into the toilet, I got to rest a while,
but then he did greek me.  He first expanded my anus with a greased finger,
and then two and three at the same time, stretching me.  He had a conical
rubber dildo, a butt-plugger. Slowly, almost tenderly, he inserted it in me
until the thickest part was past the sphincter.  In it went the rest of the
way, the thick rim preventing it from going in too far.

He asked me how it felt.  Actually, it felt almost marvelous.  I was almost
disappointed when he pulled it out, and I was shocked when from his drawer he
pulled out a still, larger version of the same thing.  This looked too big to
ever get into such a tight place. However, with patience, and perseverance and
plenty of pressure, he did get it innnnnnnnnnn, slowly, stretching me larger,
until the largest diameter passed the sphincter and it was lodged fully up
inside me.  He gave me a little more of the leather strop, so I could have the
two sensations together.  After a while, the rubber plug came out.  He got up
astride, put the blunt, rigid end of his cock against my now stretched
rosette.  After what had happened so far, that did not really hurt at all, it
was sort oftight, but not painful.  And to me, the sensation of being fucked
in the ass by a masterful man was just marvelous, though I must say that never
did I have the feeling that I was out of control. I always felt that any time
I really wanted him to stop and go no further, that he would have without
question.  Never did I feel totally dominated, subjugated, like the subdued
slave-girl I really wanted to be.

The next time or two that we were together, things were much the same.  After
we had done the same things a few times, we began to talk about fantasies, and
he made me tell him mine. It relates to Mrs. Olsen, who was my landlady, and
who really disliked me. If I ever was going to try the slave-girl experience,
totally controlled by another, she would be absolutely my first choice.

Now the wierd thing about her was that she once had been a strong
disciplinarian, a teacher in one of those strange schools where the students
are punished.  I overheard her telling a lady friend once that she did have an
experience.  She had a student who badly needed the discipline, and nothing
that Mrs. Olsen ever did seemed to make that one shape up. Repeated
applications of the leather did not make any difference.  The cure for her,
according to Mrs. Olsen, was that she was given a thorough stropping, forced
to take a number of tablespoons of castor oil, thank Mrs. Olsen for each one,
stropped some more, and then given a large mouthful of Mrs. Olsen's shit to
eat, a tablespoonful at a time.  I overheard this and never forgot it.  And, I
am sure, I masturbated about it a thousand times.  That was my fantasy.  I
wanted to be taken over by somebody who disliked me, stripped, spanked
thoroughly, made to eat her pussy, and then more humiliating things.

Now understand about Mrs. Olsen. She is tall and strong, a very handsome
woman, with a very potent personality.  She is about 45. There is no Mr. Olsen
around.  I do not know if she is a widow or a divorcee, she is not the kind of
person that you ask questions of.  We genuinely do not like each other.  I
think she is overbearing.  She thinks that I am wild, spoiled, disrespectful.
While she is my landlady, I cannot wait to get out of there, and she cannot
wait to have me gone. But she still is very much in my fantasies.

This story, embellished somewhat, is what I told to Tom. He is very interested
in this, and says that he is going to look into making it all happen. He had
me write him a letter, detailing all this, though how exactly he plans to make
use of it, I do not know.

Today, Tom called at lunch time and asked me to come over this evening, and to
be sure to be there before 8:00 PM.  He says that we might, just might, have
company, though he won't say who and he won't say what.  I am fantasizing
about this, have been all day now, not knowing what to expect. Today is
Thursday, I thought, and today is the day that perhaps I am going to meet my
fate.  Thomas had heard my story and questioned me on it in detail.  He knew
what I think I want.  He was delighted to help me, to play in our little
drama.  He had my letter, written in my own hand, addressed to him, which
detailed everything.  He had also purchased a pint bottle of castor oil at the
drug store-the only item on the list that he did not have in advance.  And he
had made the calls, I believe, talked to Mrs. Olsen, explained our
relationship, and had her surprised (and he says, delighted and enthusiastic)
agreement to participate.  He told her that he had been regularly spanking me,
had nude photos of me that he knew she would want to see, and had ideas of
advanced discipline for me that he wanted to discuss with her.  She was
cautious, but interested. After all, this was really right up her alley, and
it was being handed to her on a silver platter, so to speak.

This time, for the first time, I did not drive to his place.  I knew that if
the adventure was going to go according to his plan that I would be taken
home, in bondage, by Mrs. Olsen.  My car would only be in the way.  I went
there by cab, dressed as usual in jeans and a sweater.  The clothes made no
difference.  I would be nude as soon as I got there.  Thomas' house was no
different than at any other time.  The furnishings are sparse, but adequate.
The room down in the basement, which was the "playroom" had wood paneled
walls, with various hooks and eyes, and the large, very sturdy oak library
table with a padded top. On the floor stood a brown paper bag.  I was
instructed to strip down to my panties, but to leave them on, a pair of black
nylon bikini panties that he had bought for me that he liked. I was  to put
each article of clothing that I removed into that paper bag.

Soon enough I was almost nude, trembling slightly, though not from fright.
Thomas had seen me nude now a number of times and had used me in the various
ways that a punished girl is used. Instead, I was trembling in anticipation.
This might be the night that Mrs. Olsen would join us, and if she did, there
was no telling how the agenda might go. This time, for preparation, all that
happened was that Tom put wrist cuffs on me and fastened my wrists behind my
back.  I was helpless.  And I was wondering if she would appear, and if she
did appear if she would participate and if she did participate, how severe she
would be with me.

I knew that she would wear a black merry-widow, a short corset like garment,
only hip length, and with that, black opera length hose and garters.  And of
course, black panties that revealed more than they hid, through which would
clearly be visible her fulsome behind. I had seen her dressed this way, and it
really depressed me.  It also really excited me.  I had visions of kissing
that large, shapely bottom, of thrusting my tongue up inside, and I hated
these visions.  And secretly begged that she make it happen.  I stood, just
marking time.  The phone rang.

Tom went upstairs to talk, and seemed gone forever.  Then the doorbell rang.
I could hear voices as he answered upstairs, but could not identify who was
there.  I could only hope.  Footsteps could be heard, two pair were coming
down the stairs, and there she was!!

Mrs. Velma Olsen stood there, looking just gorgeous, dressed in a simple,
severe black dress.  She looked around the room, looked finally at me,
standing wearing only my panties, my wrists fastened behind my back.  "My
dear", she said. "You cannot imagine how glad I am to see you here.  And
looking so lovely, too".  I stood still as her hands ran across my lower body,
fondling my bottom, gently squeezing one cheek of my ass.  Her hands ran up my
front, taking hold of each bare breast and fondling me.  She took my nipples,
each between a thumb and forefinger and gently squeezed, bringing them to
instant erection, and using my nipples to pull by, dragged me in very close.

"Let me see your tongue", she commanded.  I opened my mouth, showed her the
tip of my tongue.  Squeezing somewhat harder, she ordered me, "Further,
darling.  Stick it all the way out so that i can see it."

I complied.  She opened her mouth, and we deep-kissed.  And gently, she bit
down on my tongue.  Not very hard, but hard enough.  This was not at all what
I had expected.

"My dear", she said, "Tom has told me how naughty you have been.  I am not
really surprised, that I have been correct.  He has asked that I help in
modifying your behavior.  Won't that be fun?"  And in saying that she squeezed
hard on each erect nipple, making me gasp.

She removed the black frock.  She did not have the merry-widow on.  Rather,
she was wearing only a sexy looking deep-cut black bra, and black panty hose.
This emphasized her curvaceous figure, and with her high heels, she had a
totally queenly appearance.  Tom, watching closely, his eyes popping out at
the sight, was obviously very erect.  It seemed certain that at least for now,
he was going to be a voyeur in this drama, not a direct participant.  It also
seemed that he did not mind in the least.

Velma sat, and pulled me over her lap, bottom-up.  Her hands fondled my
bikini-clad rump, squeezing here and there, probing a bit.  A hand ran inside
the waist band and squeezed naked flesh, not hard, but rather more a loving
squeeze.  She quickly pulled my panties down, tugged them all the way off, and
asked me to open my legs so that she could see all my parts. Her hands probed
here and there.  First a finger touched all around my vulva, testing for
creaminess.  I was sopping wet.  The finger probed inward, deeply, came out
again and rubbed gently across my now erect clit, almost making me leap off
her lap.  The finger found its way between the upturned cheeks of my bottom,
found the rosebud pointing up at her, gently forced its way inside, full
depth.  This also seemed to please her.

"Ooh yes, you are just lovely," she said, "just the way I knew you would be".
And she raised her right hand and spanked me fiercely across one cheek of my
upturned bottom.  Very slowly, she lectured me on good behavior, punctuating
almost every point with another hard swat on my bare ass, first on one cheek
and then the other, alternating back and forth it seemed, to be sure that each
side got its fair share.  Well, each side got more than its fair share.  Very
soon she brought me to tears.

This went on for awhile, much longer than I had expected, and much more of a
spanking than Tom had ever given me.  I was crying now, not knowing what to
say.  I begged her to stop, promising her as a little girl might that I would
be good, that I would never again be disrespectful, that I would obey her in
anything, just anything, that she might want me to do.  She pushed me off onto
the floor, ordered me to kneel before her.

Now understand how I felt.  I had truly been punished and my bottom felt like
it was on fire.  I felt humiliated to be treated this way, and to have Tom see
me treated this way.  I felt totally ashamed of myself for getting myself into
this situation.  And I felt totally under her control.  But most of all, I
felt absolutely, orgasmically excited.  She was Queen, she was in charge, and
what would happen was completely up to her. What she wanted from me, she would
get!!!  She took off her black bra, and showed me (and Tom) a pair of
delicious, shapely, large breasts.  She offered me a thick, dark brown nipple
to kiss.  I had no doubts whatever about what was going to happen now, and I
did just as she indicated she wanted me to do, I leaned forward, and took that
luscious morsel into my mouth and sucked it lovingly.  Shortly, her hand found
my earlobe, and pulled me downward.  She shucked her black underpants, spread
her husky, shapely thighs, and showed me a musky crotch, obviously excited
that she wanted me to kiss as a gesture of submission. And all the time that I
had known her, hated her, always I had known that this was what I really
wanted.

I had dreamed about it a thousand times, the thought of me being on my knees,
kneeling before her widespread thighs, peering into her open, expectant
crotch, looking at the pink lips and her erect clit, standing up and awaiting
my kiss.  I knew the significance of this position.  I was going to lean
forward and kiss her there, and suck her juices, and give her pleasure.  And
by so doing, she was going to take possession of me to use me any way that she
chose to use me in the future.  I was going to be converted to her slave girl,
and she would own me and operate me.

I buried my face in it, her gorgeous, feminine cunt, tasting her juices,
enjoying the strange flavors and enjoying the sexy, gorgeous feeling of
humiliation of doing this with Tom watching. He loved it. I was still on my
knees between her thighs when she reached to the table for the bottle of
castor oil, and a tablespoon.  A large spoonful was poured, and offered to me.
I pursed my lips, knowing that no taste did I hate so much as this.  I
refused. She smiled, reached over and took a nipple, and pinched HARD.  It
hurt, really hurt.  I screamed, not understanding her sudden change in mood.
She said, "Now there you are being willful, disobedient.  That is exactly what
I am going to correct." She pinched again, and I immediately opened my mouth
wide, and got for my troubles the tablespoonful of the castor oil.  I gagged
on it, but managed to swallow it down.

"Would you like another?" she asked.  When I gasped out NOOO, she pinched
again, saying "Now that's the WRONG answer, darling.  Let me ask again.  Would
you like another?"  I knew what would happen if I said no again. I did not
know what to say.  She said it for me.  She said "May I have another? that
would be the way that you would say it if you had good manners". And with
that, she gave me another pinch, this time not so hard but still hard enough.
And of course, I did ask for another, and was duly rewarded with a large
spoonful, and then a moment later, another and another.........I was let alone
for a while, while Velma and Tom disappeared upstairs.  They were gone for a
long time.  When they came back, I could see that Tom had lost his erection.
Velma sat down again before me, her thighs spread again, and beckoned me to
kiss her. I did, of course, and found now that she was ever so much more juicy
than before, a totally different flavor, too.  Obviously, out of my sight,
they had fucked.  She had paid Tom, in a sense, for turning me over to her for
discipline, and she had thanked him in the manner he liked best.  Velma
reached into her purse, and found a new toy, a large nipple clip that she
attached to one of my nipples, and snapped a leash onto it.  This was a new
way to lead somebody around.  She found my coat, threw it over my shoulders,
took the leash in one hand, the paper bag with my clothes in the other, said
goodbye to Tom, and led me out to her car.  As she led me, her attitude seemed
to be that of a great lady who had just procured a new toy, and now meant to
take it home and play with it in depth.

I was the toy.  And I knew this game that we were going to play.  She was
going to make the rules and I was going to abide by them, without any limits.
She would be judge and jury and enforcer.  In the car, she reached into the
coat, took my other breast in her hand and very gently fondled it, returned
her face to me, and offered me a very wet kiss, and as well, a totally
confusing mixture of sensations and feelings.

Her hand ran between my thighs, into my pussy, feeling its wetness.  She
gently, very gently frigged my clit, bringing me almost, but not quite to
orgasm.  And she nibbled on my ear lobe, and thrust a tongue into my ear, in
the meanwhile whispering, "Darling girl, I am going to be your teacher, and I
am going to just loooovvvvee being your teacher.  You are just going to love
it.  Did you enjoy going down on me?"  Considering the remarkable talent she
had shown for pinching my nipples and making me do her thing, I knew I had
better give the right answer.  I said that I loved it.  "Good", she said,
"since you like it so well, do it again, right now."  So, for another ten or
fifteen minutes we sat parked in front of Tom's house, my face buried in her
humid cunt, my tongue sucking her clit. and all the while, that castor oil was
doing its insidious work, taking me ever closer to that particular point of no
return.

Away we drove, finally, towards home.  I was certain that I would never make
it there, considering the wild sensations in my bowels.  Somehow, I did manage
to hold on long enough, my stomach heaving and quenching as she led me up the
stairs, firmly holding the leash.  I begged for permission to go to the
bathroom, and to my surprise, it was granted without question.  Velma was for
the moment in her sweet phase.  I came back out, and was granted permission to
shower and to rest a bit.  Rest for what?  Well, as it turned out, for quite a
bit more.  An hour later, after relaxing and watching the evening news on TV,
she ordered me up.  My hands were fastened behind my back again, and after
some really loving-type gentle play with my nipples, we began to discuss
discipline.  She reviewed my conduct over the past several years that we had
known each other.  She pointed to a number of specific instances where, she
thought, I could have, should have behaved differently.  Now, she told me, she
was going to teach me a number of things, but better manners and better
behavior and total obedience to recognized authority were certainly vital
parts of the lessons.

Obviously, she was now the recognized authority that she referred to. To
determine if I was sufficiently obedient, she turned her back to me, bent
forward to give me a delightful view of her bare ass, her legs spread so that
I could see her brown rosette, almost winking at me.  I knew what she wanted
me to do, to give it a long, wet, sweet thrusting kiss.  At that point, I
could not.  She said that this was disobedience, exactly what she had meant.
And announcing this, she bent me over the end of the couch, my bottom raised.

She left me there for a moment, went to fetch something from the closet, and
showed it to me, a wicked looking leather strap, about 18" long, 3" wide, and
the end cut into three separate tongues of leather.  She told me that it was a
trainer, sometimes called a tawse, but by any name a marvelous tool for one
job, for teaching.  She said that nature had provided every female a place to
be taught, her naked behind.  There, lessons could be given, that might be
painful for the moment, but they would be remembered and no permanent harm
would come.  And with that, she raised the tawse, and SSSSSPPPPLLLAAATTT!!  A
fiery streak, right across the crowns of both cheeks.  I screamed out.  She
said nothing, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was the voice
from the TV.  Time dragged, and my behind was on fire.  I had never really
felt anything like it before.  And then SSSSSPPPPPPPLLLAAATTTT!!  Again, she
burned my bottom, as before.

And now it hurt twice as much, if that is possible.  I was sobbing, crying,
begging her to let me go.  All that got me was a third and then a fourth shot
of the wicked tawse across my rump. She asked me questions about things I had
done the previous year, about things I had said, about Tom.  She wanted to
know if I had been letting him fuck me. I said no.  That immediately earned me
another vicious swat with the tawse.  Again she asked, and this time I
confessed.  She wanted to know if I had him use me up the ass.  I denied it
and got yet another stroke.  I confessed that Tom had been using me anally.
She noted that down for future reference, as if that was another transgression
that she intended to cure.

I was crying hysterically now, willing to tell her anything, willing to
confess to any sin, and getting in the process a barn-burner of a spanking.
Suddenly it stopped.

She said to me, "What would you like to do now?" I knew there was only one
answer to that question, and I said it, "Please let me show you, let me kiss
your beautiful ass."  She smiled slightly, bent forward again, and again,
offered her brown rosette to my tongue.  Now, finally, I did what I had always
really wanted to do.  I thrust my tongue against it, probed inward slightly,
tasted her strange flavor, and gave her thusly the kiss of total obedience.

She left the room.  After what seemed a long time, she returned, carrying a
paper plate.  I knew what would happen next, and sure enough, she found a
spoon, and then asked me if I wanted my dessert now.  I gulped, cried again,
and said nooooo.  And for that refusal, got another two strokes of the tawse.
She asked again, and knowing that this would go on until I said yes, I did so.
She made me request it, made me ask her to please feed me my dessert.