Monday, May 30, 2011

Bedtime stories

"You have your instructions girl."

"Yes, master."

And that's how I find myself at Home Depot, running my fingers over the chain in the display.  Nothing sharp, per the instructions.  A small carabineer so that it can be attached to a D ring in the collar.  Then five feet seven inches of heavy, smooth chain. 

Of course with a length like that, it has to be cut by the guy that works here.  Shit, fuck, damn.   He’s eyeing me.  And of course I’m wearing a little mini skirt and a plain white t-shirt with no bra under it.  And high heeled ankle boots.  He’s going to ask.  I see it.  And I have to tell him if he asks.  Damn.

“So, whatcha getting this for?”  There it is, I knew it was coming too.

“My master wants it to chain up his slave girl.”  Yes, I’m beet red.  The guy is grinning like an idiot.  You know he was hoping for an answer like that.  He’d probably have made one up and shared it with the guys in the break room no matter what I said.  Now he wouldn’t have to bother, he had it straight from the slave girl’s mouth.

He believes it.

“Really?  You’re into that huh?”


“You like it huh?”

“Love it.  Uh, you done with that?”

“Oh sure, here you go.”

All I need now are the locks.  Master locks (of course, right?), keyed the same.  Got it.  Now thankfully home again with the supplies.  Nothing to do but wait for his call.

It came that evening, just before 6pm.  Master was 3000 miles away, but still in charge.  I wasn’t to forget it either. 

“Are you naked and kneeling for me, waiting by the phone?”

“Yes, master.”

“Excellent.  Is your collar on?  And your wrist and ankle cuffs?”

“Yes, master.”

“Take a carabineer and attach it to the front of your collar.”  The snap seemed so loud in my ears. 

“Did you attach the end of the chain to the foot of the bed?”

“Yes, I used the hasp you told me about and there are six big long screws holding it in place.” 

“And did you use a lock to attach it to the hasp?”

“Yes master.”

“Put the phone on speaker and lay flat on your naked back on the bed.”

I settled into position.   

“Are you wet?”

“I’m always wet for you master.”

“As you should be.  Put the vibe in but don’t turn the remote on yet.”  I slide the vibe as far in as it would go, feeling it fill me and rub against my g-spot, the other end settled on my clit.

“Lock your ankle cuffs to the chain.”  It clicked once for the right, again for the left, bringing my feet together and locking the vibe in place between my thighs.

“Did anyone ask what the chain was for?”

“Yes, master.  I told them that my master wanted it for his sex slave.”  He laughed, yes, of course he found it amusing.  It would be from where he sat.

“Poor baby.  If I was there, I’d beat your tits to make you feel better.”  I shuddered imagining it, both relieved and disappointed he wasn’t here to do it.

“Pinch your nipples for me, work them like I’d work them if I was there.  Pull them, twist, release, then again.”  I followed his commands, not even considering cheating, do it just like he would, feeling the pinch, gasping with it, unable to do anything other than his bidding.  It went on and on, minute after minute, the nipples hard and at strict attention.

“Lay the chain over your skin.  Is it cold?” 

“Freezing!”  It settled over my skin from my tethered ankles to my neck.  I held my breath while it warmed against me, the weight settling on me, his presence by proxy. 

“Hook it to the carabineer on your collar.”  Done, I am chained.

“You have the key on the string, attached to your wrist cuff?  You’ve tested and you can reach it with your hands together?”

“Yes master.”

“Turn the vibe on high and then lock your wrists to the chain.  You can turn the vibe off at 6am.  Good night girl.”

© 2011 André Santhomas

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


He's been watching her.  She is close, but not quite right.  She wears a ring that catches the light, but it isn't a diamond.  It’s a little silver skull.  She wears it on her middle finger instead of her ring finger in a subtle "fuck you".

She flirts because she can't help herself but to flirt.  She intrigues him because she isn’t fully polished.  She's just like all the other women he meets at things like this.  Except she's not going to be too high and mighty to get down and dirty when the time comes.  And she's going to toe the line because he has much more power and money than she could ever imagine and you can do things with that.  When he wants something, he gets it, one way or another.  He wants her.  Wants to not just rent her but own and possess her.  If it takes some money to do that, no big deal.  He'll make more.

He's made more while he's been standing here thinking about it.  Hundreds of thousands more.  Maybe even a million if that damned overseas deal has finally closed.  Doesn't matter.  What matters is having her sprawled on his sheets, servicing his every whim, adoring him, riding him, performing for him.  She's young and beautiful.  She'll be even more beautiful naked and sweating, straining when he ties her up.  He'll have her arms above her head, her ankles tied to the footboard, pulling her uncomfortably tight.  He'll touch her and she'll twitch.  For him.  He'll fuck her hard, for his own pleasure.  He won't have to pretend to care if she comes or not.  She will though.  She won't be able to help herself.  But he won't have to care either way.

He'll whip her.  Not the little pretend slap on the butt he has to give one of those trophy wife types.  He can make the heat radiate off her skin.  He can put stripes on her ass with his flogger.  Or her tits.  And he can call them tits.  He doesn't have to call them breasts and pretend he's looking into her eyes when he talks.  He can look down her shirt and grab a feel.  Hell, he'll have her naked all the time.  No messing around with hundreds of designer dresses that really all look the same to him.  And the shoes.  The dozens of fucking shoes all these girls seem to like.  This one will be barefoot and naked unless he wants her dressed up.

And when she is dressed up and he takes her out, she'll wear his mark on her.  A choker is so trite.  A bracelet.  No, an ankle bracelet.  Something unusual so that people will notice and comment, but it won't be blatant.  There's one at Tiffany.  A hinged bangle.  But he'll have the jeweler lock it on her so it won't come off her ankle.  Ever. 

She'll beg to serve him.  She won't be able to help herself.  She already lives for the fuck.  She'll die for his fuck.  And his attention.  And the joy of pleasing him.  And the fear of annoying him.  All her focus will be on him.  She won't eat or sleep or pee without his permission.  She won't sulk or whine or cut him off when she wants her way.  Her way won't matter.  Her only way will be his way.

All he has to do is get her.  That's the easiest part.  He'll entice her. He's got power and prestige and she likes that.  If she didn't, she wouldn't be here right now.  She'd be at a playground somewhere pushing a stroller instead of dirty dancing in a room full of people.  She might resist.  That will only make it more fun.  He'll triumph because he is who he is.  And because she is who she is, she'll submit.  And that will be just the first time she submits to him.  She'll spend the rest of her life submitting to him once she takes the first step.

© 2011 André Santhomas

Monday, May 16, 2011


Totally his.  He left her on stage a good hour, the backdrop for several other acts that performed during the evening.  Her juices were on her thighs, her skin was shining from the oil, she was naked, exposed, displayed.  For him.   He watched her up there, watched others watching her.  Yes, most of these men wanted her.  They saw what he saw when she was like this.  Some of the women saw it too.  His wanton little slut. 

Back in their hotel room, he tied her spread eagle to the bed.  She was stretched tightly, his touch on her directly now.  She stifled a yelp when he clamped each nipple, taking deep breaths until they settled into a throb.  She groaned when he pulled out the paddle.  Flat on her back, his options for places to swat her were going to sting in a serious way.  He grabbed her jaw tightly in his hand and ravaged her mouth, thrusting into her, owning her.  "Who owns you Kaity?" he asked against her mouth, not letting her catch her breath enough to answer him.  "I do," he supplied, taking her mouth again.

He slapped the paddle down over her mound, not as hard as he could have, but enough to make her yelp and jerk.  "Mine." 

"Yes, Master, yours."  He grabbed her breasts roughly, paying no mind to the clamps as he did so, making her wince and bite her lip.  "Mine." 

"Yes, Master, yours," she repeated.   He roughly shoved two fingers into her sopping cunt.  "Yours Master, yours," she said before he could even claim it.  "Yes, Mine."  He fucked her with his fingers, pushing them in and out of her faster and faster, his thumb brushing her clit each time.  His fingers bending up to rub the ridges of the g-spot.  She was sweating and breathing heavily, soaking wet and close to coming for him when he stopped, pulling his fingers free and having her clean them with her mouth. 

He smiled at her as she worked on his fingers.  Her pent up longing from the day transferred to her tongue on his hand. 

"My wanton little slut, licking your sex juice off my hand like one of those window whores would."  Yes, she was, his wanton little slut.  Ah, finally, he was entering her, filling her, feeding the longing she had all day for him.  He was just right for her, fit her perfectly in every way.   She screamed out her climax, clenching tightly on him when she came, bringing him along with her.  He rested on top of her, whispering into her ear, playing with her hair. 

"You know, Kaity, I saw the damndest thing today.  I was walking about the city.  There were lots of women in the whore houses, selling their wares in the windows, but one display happened to catch my eye.   It was three sluts in a window.  One light, one dark and one stunning red head.  But it was the red head that really caught my eye, you know why?"  She shook her head no.  "Well, see the dark one and the light one were just up there making a buck, but the red head, she was different.  She's a wanton little slut that just wants to fuck.  She had her eye on me the whole time and she just wanted to have me fuck her silly.  And you know what else about her?"  She slowly shook her head again.  "She liked those girls touching her.  She did.  She liked those little kitten touches at the direction of her Master.  Didn't she?" 

She sucked in some air feeling a bit light-headed and realizing she'd been holding her breath while he talked.  "Yes, I think she did, Master." 

"And then you know what else I saw Kaity?"  He fingered her nipples now, plucking at them while he talked softly to her.  "That same wanton little slut strutted on up to a stage, naked, in front of a hundred strangers and begged them to chain her down.  Demanded that they do it so that they could have their way with her.  Just to please him.  And you know what else?"  He slipped a hand back down to her cunt, feeling how she was wet yet again.  "That wanton little slut came up there in front of all those people and you know why she came?" 

He zeroed in on her clit and started flicking it.  "Because it pleased him.  But also because she liked it for herself.  She liked that girl fingering her in front of all those people.  She liked watching that whore suck her Master off.  She liked watching him fondle that girl while someone fondled her.  Didn't she?"

She found it hard to talk.  He was doing amazing things to her clit and she was seeing the scene again through his eyes.  She was amazingly hot and embarrassed about the whole thing at the same time.  "Yes Master, I loved pleasing you." 

He gave her clit a sharp flick with the back of his finger.  "That's a half truth Kaity.  You loved it for you too didn't you?" 

A tear slipped from her eye.  She wasn't sure if it was from the pain of the flick or the truth of his words or both.  "Yes Master, I loved it for me because I was doing it for you.  I wouldn't go looking for a girl, or looking for a stage, but I loved it for me and doing it for you." 

"There's my Kaity-girl," he said, reaching over to the bedside drawer that the maid had put the sex toys in.  He pulled out the big battery dildo they had brought from home.  He rested it on her chest, pointing it at her face while he untied her arms from the headboard.  She flexed her fingers when he released them, then rubbed her wrists.  He plopped himself on the bed next to her, just watching her a minute.  "Use the vibe and bring yourself off for me Kaity-girl.  Show me what that wanton slut really wanted to do up on that stage and in that window.  Show me Kaity."

She pushed herself up a bit and took the vibe from her chest, bringing it to her lips and stroking it with her tongue first.  Slowly, seductively she caressed it like it was his hard cock.  She flipped the power on and teased her nipples with it, pinching them with one hand and vibrating them with the other.  She moved the damp vibe over her skin and down to her bare cunt.  Her legs were still tethered wide apart, taut and spread for him, her pussy lips open and oozing with fluid.  She stroked the buzzing vibe up and down her slit, then in and out of her cunt, seeing it happening all over again, feeling herself on the stage with that girl's slick hands on her, watching that girl sucking him off.  She screamed for him when she came, thrashing against the restraints on her ankles, pressing the vibe hard on her clit while it washed over her.  She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she couldn't think anything but pleasing him.  

He untied her, rubbing her feet, making sure her circulation was working then cuddling her into him.  "You're my girl Kaity," he whispered in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.   

© 2011 André Santhomas

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Window Shopping

They had a whole day to themselves in Amsterdam and Brad promised her some window shopping.  He dressed her in a short pleated skirt that barely covered her ass cheeks, a see through lacey thong and a bikini top.  Fortunately the weather was warm because there was a huge amount of her bare skin showing.  They stepped out of a cab in an old section of the city, walking over the cobblestones and checking out the shop windows.  They turned a corner and Kaitlyn quickly realized that she was no longer looking at nick nacks and curios.  Instead there were women in the windows in various stages of undress.  All provocatively attempting to lure customers in off the street.  She had heard that prostitution was legal here, but she didn't expect it to be so blatent. 

He grinned at her surprise and kept her moving down the block.  They made a turn and then he was taking her into one of the shops.   He asked for someone by name and a moment later a big burly man with tattoos appeared.  They shook hands and he eyed Kaitlyn up and down.  Kaitlyn didn't need to speak Dutch to know that a deal had been struck.  What deal she wasn't sure, but obviously she was a part of it.  Brad gave her a kiss and grabbed her ass with both hands.  The man laughed and a moment later a woman came out and took Kaitlyn by the hand.  She found herself in a window display on the second floor with two other women.  One was tiny with long blond hair that reached nearly to her knees.  The other was dark with a deep brown skin and an exotic look.  The other girls wore only g-strings and moved to take her bikini top off.

Kaitlyn backed up, unsure of what was going on.  The girls didn't speak English either, but they nodded to the passersby on the street.  Yes, they were to put on a show for these people, entice them to enter the brothel.  She got that part.  And now she was to be part of that show.  Who knows what else she was to be part of.  She was deciding what she'd go along with when she spotted Brad on the street looking up and watching her.  He gave her a nod and it cleared her head.  She was performing for Brad.  She could do that.  She took a deep breath then allowed the dark girl to unhook her top and pull it off, letting Kaitlyn's breasts burst free.

The tiny blond stepped closer and rubbed her breasts against Kaitlyn's.  The dark girl moved behind her and pressed against her back.  Kaitlyn didn't really know what she should do, but she remembered that Brad would be watching and decided to surrender to it.  She shimmied her shoulders and rubbed her own breasts against the blond. Her nipples brushed nipples and became erect.  The dark girl was running her hands over Kaitlyn's hips and pumping her thong covered pelvis into the back of Kaitlyn's brief skirt.  The blond stepped back and moved to the side, allowing the dark girl to nudge Kaitlyn closer to the window.  The girls then started working on Kaitlyn's breasts, one holding them up from behind her, the other tweaking the tips.  Kaitlyn let her head loll back and just feel the soft sensations on her skin.  So different from Brad or any other male, yet in this context, also Brad's touch on her skin.  It seemed the nipple play went on and on and Kaitlyn felt herself getting wetter and wetter from the contact. 

The dark girl was bending down and pushing Kaitlyn's skirt off her hips and dropping it to the floor.  The tiny g-string provided no cover and the sheer fabric only amplified her pussy.  The girls were running hands up and down her legs and over her hips and ass.  They turned her around and bent her over, her ass big and prominent in the window, offered to the masses while they stroked their fingers over it and played with her g-string, pulling it tightly into her crack and rubbing it up and down against the tender skin. 

She was facing the window again and both girls were licking their tongues up her legs while she held her own breasts up and played with the nipples.  The warm breath and wet skin moving over her, closer and closer to her cunt.  She shivered as they moved higher, the dark girl running her tongue over the crease at the top of her thigh.  The blond girl was digging her hand into Kaitlyn's ass, holding her tightly in place.  There were many more people in the street now, men, women, couples, singles.  Stopping to watch the show.  Watching her.  Brad stood out from the rest.  She was tuned to him and felt his approval.  She was performing for him, pleasing him.

Now the blond girl had Kaitlyn's nipple in her mouth, flicking the tip with her tongue, kneading it with her lips.  So different from a man, ticklish and seductive instead of direct and blatent.  She had never had an interest in girls and wasn't sure she had one now, but she couldn't deny that the sensation was very arousing.  The dark girl used a finger to press the waistband of Kaitlyn's g-string down and followed the trail with her tongue.  She wished Brad were up here instead of down on the street.  Wished he was here pounding into her in a sea of soft feminine parts and warm wet tongues and lips.  She realized she was pumping her hips in a parody of the movement she'd have with Brad.  The dark girl was close, so close to the wet slit, but not quite when she stopped and moved her way back up.  Kaitlyn held her hands over her head while the two girls each worked a nipple into their mouths.  Some college-aged boys on the street were applauding and Kaitlyn rocked her hips.  Brad was grinning at her, watching her.

© 2011 André Santhomas

Saturday, May 7, 2011

A night at the club

"Ah, there's my girl, excellent," he said when she came downstairs. 

She was poured into a completely see through nude body suit.  The stretchy nylon was tight on her skin like stockings and had some sort of shimmer to it so it looked as though her skin was glowing.  The front plunged below her navel, then laced up in a thin black cord, leaving her chest nearly bare, not even the pretense of coverage of any kind.  Where on earth could he be taking her in something like this?  More of the five inch heels.  This time a mesh that buckled on the side. 

He had changed to another pair of his comfy jeans and a plain dark t-shirt with a leather jacket.  She wasn't allowed a coat or cover of any kind and he made a point to tweak her nipples when he hooked her seatbelt for her.  They pulled up at an innocuous looking place.  It could have been just about any private club or restaurant in town.  From the outside, it didn't seem to be anything special.  A valet took the car with perfect deference and not even a glint that he found her naked body odd or unusual.  Brad showed a card at the front door and they were allowed to enter.  Once inside, it was like stepping into Wonderland. 

The room was filled with nearly naked people.  Topless girls, pierced nipples, tattoos were everywhere she looked.  People were crawling on the ground and being led by leashes that were attached to collars or nipples or cunt rings.  Right up front there were two oversized bird cages.  One was empty but the other contained a girl wearing only a waist cincher and high heels who was gyrating to the music that blared in the background.  The bars of the cage were wide enough for people to reach through and touch her as they liked and there wasn't enough room in the cage for her to move away from them.  Brad nodded to the other empty cage.  "That's your spot," he said, leading her to it.  She looked at him shocked and scared.  He took a moment to give her a deep kiss.  "You can do it, you're my girl."  Yes, she was his girl, she could do it.  Maybe anyway.  She took some deep calming breaths and decided she was going to try her best.

He opened the door and she stepped up about two feet onto the floor of the cage.  He cuffed each of her hands to vertical bars that ran along the inside of the cage.  He gave her one last deep kiss that filled her with strength and then closed the door, putting a heavy looking padlock on it.  He tucked the key safely into his pocket and patted it. 

"Get to work Kaity.  Hopefully, you'll collect more coins than the other girl." He smirked at her. "Or maybe hopefully you won't.  Either way, it works for me."  She had not even noticed the coin box at the front of the cage.  The other girl's owner was just emptying her box so they were starting on a level playing field.  What on earth would he do if she lost the contest?  She couldn't imagine.

He walked away, leaving her in the cage.  She took a moment to figure out what to do and started rolling her hips back and forth, then shimming her shoulders making her breasts bounce.  The other girl had much smaller tits than she did, maybe that would play in her favor.  She shook her hair a bit, too bad it wasn't long and luscious like the other girl's was. It would be one day of course now that she was growing it out for him, but she was a long time off from hair she could toss around. 

She realized she could slide her hands up and down the vertical bars, squatting down to the ground if she wanted.  That might help.  Yes, two people tossed something into her box with that move.  She pushed herself back up and went back to her shimmy and hip roll, then thrust her pelvis forward, like a dry hump.  Bingo, more coins in her box. 

She was trying to spot Brad in the crowd but it was impossible.  She was surrounded by people now, men, women, some she wasn't sure about.  She shrieked and jumped when a hand grabbed her ankle.  Now there was a hand on her ass, digging into her skin through the body suit.  The slats of the cage were wide enough for most any arm to reach in.  There were only a few inches of room on each side so she couldn't move away.  Her own hands were bound so she couldn't push them away.  They could grab and grope and pinch and fondle at will. 

And they did.  Hands ran over the stretchy nylon of her thighs and over her mound.  Fingers pinched her nipples, groped her breasts and dug into her ass.  She tried to remember the goal and to keep dancing.  As terrifying as this was, the penalty for losing the contest would probably be worse.  Someone tried to poke a finger right into her asshole, but fortunately the body suit prevented them from penetrating very far.  Her cunt soon received the same treatment every time she moved her legs enough to allow for it.  She felt trapped.  Squat and pump and earn more coins along with more invasive hands and fingers, or try and stand as still as possible and still get felt up nearly as much, plus lose the contest and suffer god knows what penalty. 

She jerked and squealed and groaned when one muscular man made it his mission to put dozens of tight pinches over the front and back of her thighs.  How long would this go on?  How many people had put their hands on her?  How many more would there be? 

The music pulsed in her head, a hard strong tuneless beat that she couldn't focus on.  She'd lost track of whether there were a lot of coins going into her box or not.  She squealed again.  A dark haired girl had caught her pussy lips in a tight vise-like grip.  The girl pinched impossibly hard and even twisted the lower lips while another woman striped the dark haired girl's bare behind with a fierce looking crop.  Finally, the beating stopped and Kaitlyn was released.  Tears rolled down her face and she couldn't even wipe them away. 

He was back, but only long enough to pat her flank, tell her she was doing well and then move away again.  Her heart soared when she saw him, then fell again when he left.  She bucked herself back up.  She was doing this for him.  Whether he watched or not, whether she knew if he was watching or not, it was all for him.  That's all that mattered.   She took courage and tried a few more squats, rewarded by the clink of coins in her box.  Of course the trade off was a hand on her snatch and a man that tried to impale his thumb into her asshole.  Thank god she had the small protection of the body suit, unlike the other girl.

It seemed that she'd been dancing for hours.  Maybe she had, she had no idea.  An air horn blew.  He was back to empty the coin box and do the count.  Brad and the other owner were brought up to the stage, coin boxes in hand.  Two men in top hats sat at a small table and made piles of the coin.  Kaitlyn bit her lip and waited for the verdict, trying to ignore the hands that still roamed over her.  Brad and the other man laughed together and shook hands, but she couldn't hear what they were saying.  The men in the top hats conferred and then a naked girl was throwing confetti over the other man.  Brad laughed again and made his way to Kaitlyn's cage. 
"Sorry sweetheart, you lost this one.  Hop out." He fished the key from his tight pocket and opened the lock on the door and then unhooked her cuffs.  She was shaking and sobbing when he took her hand to help her down. 

"Shhh," he said, gathering her to his chest and stroking her hair.  "You're going to hyperventilate like that.  Calm down a moment.  You know I won't let any actual harm come to you don't you?"  She nodded against him, unable to make real words.  "Ok, you ready?" he asked after she got herself together.  Again, she nodded against him.  "Use your words Kaity, I need to hear you say that you're ready." 
"I'm ready," she whispered. 
"Say it like you mean it," he said, looking at her closely.  She was almost there, but he wanted to be sure she was good to go first.
"I'm ready."
"Good girl, here we go."  He took her up to the stage and had her mount some steps to a platform that was a few feet higher.  Hands behind her neck, she stood in front of them all and tried to tune them out, focusing only on him.  A naked girl with pierced nipples and labia handed him a pair of scissors.  He spread her legs apart and she held her breath while he brought the sheers to her crotch.  He was snipping a hole in her body suit, the cold steel of the scissors touching her skin as he snipped the fabric.  He handed the scissors off and in front of everyone, shoved two fingers into her cunt.  She closed her eyes, trying to keep herslef on center, but opened them quickly at his punishing slap on her leg.  Yes, she knew better than that.  Probably a penalty later on for that one.
He took his fingers from her and stood up in front of her so that she could lick her juices from him in front of everyone.  Yes, she was wet.  Crazy as it was.  And now everyone knew it as if there was any doubt.  Someone pulled a curtain open and she gasped.  Sticking straight up was a large fat vibrator, attached to the top of a pole that was secured to the floor.  She was led to it and some adjustments made.  She could see that she would be impaled on it and it would fill her completely.  He captured her mouth, reminding her that she was his.  She was doing this for him and she could do anything.  She was his Kaity and he was making all her dreams come true.   

© 2011 André Santhomas