 |
|
||
| Blackmailed Wife | Back to F | Back to main page |
|
|
||
| Blackmailed Wife | Back to F | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
Blackmaild Wife at Business Conference
Maggie Seaver
Blackmailed Wife at Business Conference
Part Four
Mr. Stephens and Maggie Seaver met in the lobby of the hotel as he
had earlier 'requested'. "Let's go to a bar...somewhere out of the
hotel. Bars are especially good locations for dressing sexy, flashing
stocking tops, and ...socializing. And, Mrs. Seaver, to be perfectly
clear I expect you to do as you are told...if you want your reputation
to remain intact. Understand?"
Maggie felt her cheeks flush. "Yes, Mr. Stephens....I understand."
She resigned herself to whatever further humiliation the evening would
bring.
Mr. Stephens suggested they head to a bar on the other side of town
since Maggie would want to avoid running into people she knew when Mr.
Stephens was showing her off in the way she was dressed. She had
little choice and agreed.
The late afternoon and early evening had gone by in a blur. Somehow
she and all her belongings had made it back to her hotel room. She
had taken a long shower and order room service. Then, not really
having a choice, she had dressed for her evening with Mr. Stephens.
Maggie wore the little black slip dress that had just a trace of
lace around the bodice and hem. The lace was very pretty, of course,
and when flashed at the right moments, drew the attention of her
potential audience. Under her slip she wore skimpy black panties with
a matching garter belt and taupe shade stockings with a wide band of
lace at the top. Black leather high-heeled pumps completed her outfit.
When she had looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she wilted
with embarrassment at how she looked. She could not bring herself to
go into the hotel lobby dressed in...in a slip. She had taken the
jacket top from her two-piece black dress and put it on. She left the
buttons undone as a sort of compromise, but at least she retained a
modicum of decency.
Mr. Stephens smiled when he saw that Maggie was wearing the short
black slip dress that he had requested. He ignored any comment on the
jacket top she wore. That would come later. He liked this particular
dress because it was easy to look down the low-cut, lace-trimmed top
and see her breasts and it was easy to look up the short skirt to see
her nylon covered thighs and darker tops of her nylons. It was the
kind of dress that forced her to sit motionless and concentrate on
covering herself constantly. Mr. Stephens would be coaching her not to
feel any such obligation to modesty.
They arrived around nine and the bar was not crowded. There were
not many other women were there, so Maggie was an immediate
attraction, or so she thought. No one paid them much attention after
they sat at a booth in a dimly lit corner of the bar. Mr. Stephens
picked that one on purpose since, as she would soon find out, he had
plans.
After a few minutes Mr. Stephens said, "I have something I want you
to do."
Resigned to her fate, yet wanting to show her spunk, Maggie replied,
"And what is that?"
"I want you to take off that dress top jacket," Mr. Stephens said,
"And spend the evening wearing just your slip dress..slip really. As
you were instructed earlier."
"Here?" was the best response she could muster. She was not
expecting him to make a request like this, in public, without talking
about it first." She was flushed with what she thought was anger.
"I want you to take off your dress top," he repeated, ignoring her
rhetorical "here?" completely, acting as though maybe she hadn't heard
him. "From a distance, your slip looks like just another 'little black
dress.' And for those who get closer. . .that will be the fun part."
Maggie sat thinking about this for a moment. Her whole body was
tingling, at first with anger and then, she realized, with
humiliation. This was what it was all about, she told herself - the
embarrassment being pushing past social norms and being forced to
entertain her boss with audacious acts and skimpy dress in the
presence of strangers. Finally, she thought, well, I got to get
through this somehow. At least it's not like I'll be naked in front
of a bunch of people who know me.
Maggie slipped out of her side of the booth, crossed around to Mr.
Stephens and stood at an angle to him. "Okay, as you wish," she said
surprising both of them a little.
"If you like you could go to the ladies room, take off your dress
top and walk back," he said.
"If I'm going do it, I'm going to do it all," she thought defiantly.
"No one will notice me back here anyway. And if they do, well...how
did you put it? 'That's the fun part'." Two could play this game!
Still seated Mr. Stephens reached up and began to caress her nylon
covered leg, letting his hand ride up under her slip dress. He moved
agonizingly, provocatively slowly. Maggie closed her eyes as the hand
moved up to the lace edging of her nylons and the satin straps of her
garter belt. She knew that Mr. Stephens was moving slowly to prolong
the moment and give every man in the room plenty of time to see him
expose her this way.
Maggie took a deep breath. She pushed the dress top off her
shoulders gathering it at her elbows, hesitating, leaving her half
dressed, half undressed, undoing her modesty, and leaving Mr. Stephens
to watch the growing number of leering eyes on her exposed body. After
a very long moment, he ran his hands down her stockings and out from
under her slip.
Then the dress top was removed. Maggie layed it in the booth.
Dressed in lacy top slip, stockings and heels, she turned to look
around the bar. Most were not obvious in watching her performance.
Maggie surprised herself by being as equally disappointed as she was
relieved. She decided that the delicious danger of the last few
minutes had excited her. Well. . .maybe not that. She quickly sat
down.
"Why don't you go up to the bar and get us a drink?" Mr. Stephens
suggested, testing the attractive blonde married woman's acquiescence.
He was forcing Maggie into her first requirement of the
evening...showing herself plainly to the others in the room.
Nervously, she got up.
High heels clicking, she walked to the bar and took a seat between
two businessmen types. Out-of-towners judging from the conference
badges they were wearing. Getting up on the bar stool all but obliged
her to raise the edge of her slip and give them a look at the darker
top bands of her stockings but they both looked away as soon as she
was settled. She blushed as it occurred to her that maybe they
thought she was a hooker!
Maggie could see them glancing slyly in her direction whenever they
thought they could get away with watching. She crossed her legs
letting her slip ride higher on her thighs since that was what she
thought Mr. Stephens would like to see her do. One seemed intent on
watching the lace-topped curve of her breasts and the bulge of her
nipples through the thin fabric. She leaned over the bar to talk to
the bartender and realized she was giving him a look down the front of
her slip.
By now they all must have figured out that she was wearing just a
slip. They were only a few inches away from the pretty lace and smooth
satin and could see how it clung to her body. Maggie turned toward Mr.
Stephens and defiently re-crossed her legs slowly so that he could get
a quick look up her between her legs. This caught the interest of
another man sitting alone near their table and he couldn't keep his
eyes off her.
The bartender brought the drinks and Maggie made more of a show than
she wanted of getting the money from her purse. With both hands
engaged, her lacy slip hem rode up on her nylon-covered thighs giving
the two men more of a leg show since they thought she was distracted
and wouldn't catch them. As she slid down off the barstool, the edge
of her slip again rose to her stocking tops and momentarily it
remained suspended there, revealing her nylon covered legs, darker
stocking tops and a little thigh, while she reached for the drinks.
As Maggie walked back to the table, she realized that all the eyes
were on her. She thought they were a little surprised and probably a
little excited. She knew that they had finally figured out that she
was only half-dressed. And that, of course, made her terribly
embarrassed and just a little excited in a unusual sort of way.
The man sitting near their table had seen Maggie cross her legs at
the bar sent them drinks. Mr. Stephens acknowledged them politely. Mr.
Stephens suggested that Maggie ask him to join them. She declined,
wanting a rest from prying eyes after her trip to the bar. She needed
to cool off and collect herself. She picked up her dress top, but put
it back on the bench when Mr. Stephens raised his eyebrows and slowly
nodded his head from side to side.
After a bit, a small band began playing and the bar began to fill
up. Mostly convention types staying at the adjacent hotel. That was
fine with her. Guys on the road gawking at a a sexy woman. They
wouldn't dare tell for worry about getting caught by their wife.
Mr. Stephens and Maggie danced and he pulled her close which had the
effect of raising her slip and showing her nylon covered legs so
attractively displayed in her high-heeled pumps. He let his hand slide
down to her ass while he told her how pleased (to say nothing of
horny) he was to see her acting so obediently and looking so sexy.
They re-seated themselves in the booth. Sipping his drink, Mr.
Stephens noticed Maggie glance toward the man who had sent them
drinks. "Ask him to dance," he said.
"You want me to ask that man to dance?" she asked as if in disbelief.
"Of course, my dear Mrs. Seaver," he replied with a smirk as he
reminded her of her commitment. "And ask him how he likes your dress."
She could guess the answer and she now knew that Mr. Stephens was
ready to watch another man touch her. And she also knew that she would
be touched be someone, regardless.
High heels clicking, Maggie walked over to the man who had sent them
the drinks and bent over his table. "Would you dance with me?" she
said as he took a good look down the front of her slip. Taking her
hand before he answered, the man said, "It would be my pleasure."
His answer was sort of a statement of confidence. She had guessed he
had no reason to expect to be approached by a woman in her lingerie,
in a strange city, in the middle of a bar. To the contrary he seemed
to have expected her to ask him. body.
He placed his hand on her skantily clothed figure and led her to the
dance floor. They danced apart at first. He didn't seem to mind where
to put his hands. He pulled her closer pressing himself against her.
She did not resist and he responded by wrapping his hand around her
waist and letting it slip to her hip.
"I like your dress?" he said, his mouth inches from her ear.
"It's very, uh, pretty revealing," she stammered back.
"It's not really a dress, is it? I know you're only wearing a slip.
I watched you remove your dress top a little while ago. I can tell
from the lace and how smooth the fabric feels," he said.
"Well, yes. I thought maybe. . ." she trailed off, not knowing what
to say.
He wrapped both arms around her waist as they danced, pulling
hinself closer. Maggie could feel the lace hem of her slip against the
skin of her thighs above her stockings. She knew both the lace tops of
her stockings and the neat clips of her garters were uncovered. As
they turned slowly, she could see tables full of men watching her,
many of them talking with friends. Maggie was sure they were talking
about her, saying all kinds of sexy, dirty things about the
half-dressed woman showing herself like this.
"I think your hands are little too low," Maggie suggested,
tentatively, knowing that he was already furtively moving toward her
ass.
"Why, will your man friend be upset? He's not your husband is he?"
"No, he's not," Maggie replied tersely in answer to the second
question. "He'd probably be upset if you didn't," she said to the
first.
He carefully began to caress her ass through the thin satin. Her
knees were starting to weaken, not from his caress, which was pleasant
but hardly arousing. Maggie was starting to feel overwhelmed by her
own embarrassment and exposure in this increasing public display.
Maggie could see Mr. Stephens smiling, obviously enjoying her as much
as the others, reveling in what he knew were the edgy feelings she was
experiencing, feelings of humiliation and shame.
The song ended and the man escorted her back to the booth. Maggie
squeezed in first and sat between Mr. Stephens and her new admirerer
(Larry was his name) so they could both enjoy her lace-trimmed charms.
Atleast, Maggie thought, she was getting a break from the eyes around
the room.
Larry stayed with them until the band took a break. As soon as he
realized that neither Mr. Stephens nor seemingly Maggie were upset
with his interest in her, he couldn't keep his hands off her. He would
caress her hand and arm while they talked, place his hand on her nylon
covered knee, sliding the edge of her slip higher at every
opportunity. He became more forward with each drink.
It came time for the man to leave. He was beyond hot by then and
really wanted to find a private place to take Maggie. Larry asked
cautiously if she could go with him and they had to disappoint him. He
seemed resigned to be satisfied with what he had gotten so far,
realizing that going past looking and touching was beyond reason.
"Maggie, why not give Larry something to remember you by?" Mr.
Stephens prodded.
"What did you have in mind, Mr. Stephens?"
"How about letting Larry finger you, Maggie? That would certainly be
a fitting remembrance of his evening."
Maggie was more than just a little shocked, but, strangely, also a
little excited by the prospect. "Larry," Maggie said, sliding forward
on her seat but remaining seated next to him, "Would you like me to
finger my pussy? Right here...now?"
"Sure. That would be great," he responded, still a little unsure of
how far this might go.
Maggie shuffled nervously on the bench seat, tugging at the hem of
her slip. She was embarrassed, yet excited just as she was earlier
when she removed her dress top for Mr. Stephens. By now, Maggie was
committed. Larry obviously decided that he was too.
Maggie felt his hands sliding up her nylon covered legs, pausing to
feel the lace tops of her stockings, moving to the front of her legs,
reaching finally for the lace and satin. When he reached the elastic
of her panties, Maggie placed her hands on his pressing them against
her.
"Wait," she said. "Just touch me there for a second." The feel of
his hands on her skin, ready to uncover her there, knowing that others
were probably watching, made the moment too exciting to hurry. Carl
had raised the edge of her slip to expose her legs almost completely,
the black, rough lace of her garters standing out in sharp contrast to
the black slip in their dimly lit corner.
"Okay. . .go ahead, Larry. Pull my panties down."
Larry had finally caught on. He pulled the front of her panties away
from her body very slowly and began to pull them down her thighs. When
they reached her knees, he hesitated and gently ran his fingers back
up the front of her thighs, then tentatively over the fine stubble of
her pubic hair and around to take one quick firm caress of her now
naked ass.
She was about to fall over from the danger and excitement of being
touched this way, exposed this way, by a near stranger, in a public
place, with her dress hiked up and her panties now visible at her
knees to any who glanced in their direction. Mr. Stephens, seated next
to her, took her hand, and smiled his lecherous smile while Larry then
guided his finger into her moist slit.
Without hesitating Larry quickly moved close to her and kissed her
long and hard. Maggie was surprised, but accepted the kissing. His
hand moved between her nylon covered legs and his fingers rubbed in
and out of her mist pussy slit. While he kissed her he moved his hand
to her breast and he needed no encouragement to caress her there and
he got in a few goodbye caresses while they finished their kiss.
As he left, he watched Maggie as she sat there quietly pulling her
panties up her nylon covered legs.
******
"That was degrading," she said sat next to Mr. Stephens in the booth.
"How could you be so...mean, depraved. To make me do that?"
He just smiled a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders. Then they
drank with little conversation. Tiring of the situation, Mr. Stephens
arose from the booth. Maggie was puzzled, but got out of the booth
when he came around and extended his hand to her. All throughout the
evening he had amused himself by rubbing his hand up her nylon
stockings, on her thighs and occasionally inserting his fingers under
her garter strap.
Maggie swung her legs out of the booth, flashing a long expanse of
nylon covered thigh as she did. Mr. Stephens helped her to regain her
balance on her dark leather high heels which matched her purse and
offered an attractive contrast the black slip dress which she was
wearing. The dress had a lace topped, scoop neck and a hemline which
ended several inches above her dimpled knees.
"Come on, you can entertain me better back here in the private
lounge."
Maggie was confused, but he grabbed her by the hand and practically
pulled her through a rear door of the club. He led her down a dimly
lit corridor and into a room at the end. It appeared to be a smallish
stage show area. A hand full of booth's circled a small stage.
Maggie's high heels clicked on the wooden flooring as she walked. In
the brighness of the stage lights, he led her to the center of the
stage area and made her stand under an overhead support beam. Looking
up, she saw for the first time that the beam had attached to it two
round rings several feet apart.
"Stay where you are," he said.
She also saw that there were a rope and some small chains as well as
a box of something on a nearby table. Maggie's insides churned with a
mixture of fear and curiosity. Mr. Stephens opened the box. He
produced a set of leather wrist cuffs. He moved to her and ordered her
to hold her arms out in front of her. She did so and he fastened the
wrist cuffs in place.
Mr. Stephens stood on a step stool to hang the rope through the
rings, then got down and placed Maggie directly under one of them. Her
heart was pounding, but she offered token resistance as he took a
small length of chain and linked her wrist restraints together behind
her back.
Mr. Stephens returned to the table and from the box produced a second
set of cuffs, this time intended for her ankles. He returned to where
she stood, knelt down and fastened the cuffs around her nylon covered
ankles, just above her black leather high-heeled pumps. Mr. Stephens
liked the particular pair of high heels which Maggie wore because were
slightly taller than normal dress pumps and they made her nylon
covered legs look spectacular. She was wearing one of his favorite
shade of nylons, as well.
Finished putting the ankle cuffs in place he took a second length of
chain, this one slightly longer, and fastened together the cuffs on
her stocking covered ankles, just above her high-heeled pumps. This
action effectively hobbled the attractive woman in place.
Then he moved over and grasped the dangling end of rope. He tied it
to the middle of the short chain between her wrist constraints. This
done, he pulled on the length of rope which dangled from the second
beam. This action actually lifted her arms up behind her and Maggie
bent forward to relieve the pressure created on her arms. He fastened
the end of the rope to the middle of the chain which extended between
her ankle cuffs. Thus she was fastened both wrist and ankles to the
rope which ran through the rings on the ceiling beam.
Then he let her stand, and she found that her wrists were suspended
from the rope, that her high heels seemingly only touched the floor on
her tip toes. The hem of her dress rode up on her nylon covered thighs
exposing a nice view of her upper legs, nearly to the darker top bands
of her stockings.
Much of her weight came down on her wrists and arms and shoulders,
and it took her a few moments to adjust to that. Her wrists didn't
hurt at all, but her arms felt strained, and her shoulders ached. She
knew she must look amazingly erotic, though, and the very idea of
standing dressed in her demure sheath dress, nylon stockings and high
heels with her wrists pulled up behind her. As Maggie teetered on her
black high heels, Mr. Stephens started rubbing her stocking covered
thighs and tears welled in her eyes. She sobbed in self pity.
"Stop that," he ordered. "I don't want you making any noise unless I
tell you to."
"Ye...ye...esss, Mr. Stephens," she said, her voice somewhat muffled
as her position caused her head to be lowered toward the floor. "I
don't like this. Please let me down."
"Mrs. Seaver, you need to be punished further," he said. "I saw you
fucking like a bitch in heat. I have no idea why you would do such
things. Just because you may not agree with my assessment of just
retribution is no cause to be outright rude. Tut, tut.
"Please, Mr. Stephens, I feel so exposed... I didn't mean to
be...unresponsive. I accept my ...bad judgment...and fault. I did
something I think and know was wrong. I just got carried away in a
moment...of confusion. I just acted in response. I couldn't help it.
I'm sorry."
"Ah, yes, Mrs. Seaver, like a woman who needs to be spanked. Like an
errant wife... "
He stroked her body, then pulled her slip dress up to her waist and
slid his hand between her nylon encased legs and started stroking her
panty covered pussy with rapid movements. She grunted and moaned and
tried to resist humping against him. That he was jerking her off was
just one more astonishingly wicked thing that made her mind one mass
of confusion.
"Ohhhh!" she gasped, as his fingers went under her panties and slid
up into her pussy.
He pulled his fingers away, much to her disappointment. Grasping the
waist band of her panties, he lowered them over her garters and
stocking tops to a position just at her knees.
"You've been a naughty little lady to get yourself in a position like
this, haven't you?" he said, smacking her ass.
"Yes, Mr. Stephens," she gasped. She knew this was what he expected
to hear.
He got up and pushed the stool away, then stood there beside her,
running his left hand up and down her body and over her breasts, and
squeezing and kneading her ass cheeks with his right.
"Do you think I should spank your ass, Maggie?" he growled, slapping
her ass hard.
She yelped, but didn't answer. He continued to knead her ass cheeks,
his left hand sliding down between her thighs and stroking her pussy.
"Were you a naughty woman, Mrs. Seaver?" he demanded, cracking his
hand on her ass again.
Again she yelped in pain, but said nothing, moaning at the sexual
heat radiating upwards from her pussy. His hand cracked on her ass
again, then he stroked and squeezed her soft meat. Again he slapped
it, harder this time, and she gasped in pain, her ass jerking forward.
"A married woman, acting like a common whore," he said. "I think you
need to be punished. Don't you?"
She was grinding her pelvis into his fingers when he stopped.
"Noo," she gulped.
He slapped her ass with his hand and she yelped.
"I think you need to be punished, Maggie."
"N...Nooo," she gasped, her body glowing with heat. His hand cracked
against her ass again and she cried out in pain, then his fingers slid
into her soft pussy meat and he began to rub her clitty with his
thumb. She shuddered and arched her back. Then he rolled her clit
between his thumb and forefinger and she whined and moaned like a
bitch in heat.
"Naughty lady," he said, taking his fingers out, then slapping her
ass.
"Smart mouth bitch," he said, slapping her ass hard.
She cried out in pain. He stroked her pussy then slapped her ass
again, and again she yelped, but her voice was strained, dazed.
"Mouthy one," he said.
He slapped her ass, then again, then again, and she cried out each
time, but the pain, as sharp as it was, only raised her heat higher,
and she ground her thighs together helplessly. Mr. Stephens left her
momentarily and went to a corner of the stage. He returned holding
what looked like a. He waved it so Maggie could see it. She gasped in
fear. She was to be caned! She heard the hiss of the cane, and felt it
as it cracked down on her firm white ass cheeks. Tears swelled in her
eyes. Mr. Stephens, by contrast, licked his lips in excitement
And even as the caning ended she continued, crying out in pain and
pleasure each time he slapped her ass. He gripped her chin then and
forced her head up and back.
"Are you a mouthy bitch?"
"Yesssss! I'm a bitch! I'm a mouthy bitch!"
"You need to be punished, don't you, bitch?"
"Yesss! Punish me! Punish me. I'm sorry!"
His hand slapped down hard against her ass and she cried out in pain.
Her legs bounced and shook and her thighs slapped together, and the
sex-heat was still there, still growing. She was torn between the heat
in her crotch and the heat of her ass. Then they seemed to combine,
and she entered a confused state, thrashing and shaking wildly as he
fingered her slit and slapped her ass.
He rammed three fingers up her snatch, grinding his knuckles against
her taut pussy lips as he mashed his thumb against her slit. He
continued to crack his hand against her ass cheeks as she jerked and
writhed and bounced in mindless bliss.
Her ass was red when he stopped slapping it, but he didn't move away.
He moved in front of the now limp, groaning woman.
"Oh, Mr. Stephens," she said, her voice breaking with emotion and
passion. "What are you doing to meeeee?"
He moved behind her, then dropped his pants. He rubbed his bulging
tool against her asshole, then slowly worked it into her, burying it
deep in her bottom. He ground his pelvis into her tight ass cheeks as
his hands squeezed and mashed her breasts. Then he began to stroke,
sliding his cock steadily up and down her ass tube. His left hand
continued to grope and knead her breasts, as his right slid down her
heaving chest and belly and his fingers found their way into her slit.
He stroked and fingered her pussy as he fucked her helpless asshole,
and she whimpered and sobbed in a curious mixture of humiliation and
pleasure.
Her head dropped as he drove his cock up into her, but she humped
against him, driving her asshole back onto his cock as he frigged her
clit bud. She grunted repeatedly, continuously, her eyes closed, mouth
slack, forehead beaded in sweat.
"Bitch," he growled into her ear.
She whimpered and moaned and then, as he pounded his cock higher and
harder and faster, came, came with a sob of exhausted pleasure, her
guts torn and chest straining as her muscles snapped and jerked and
her nervous system overloaded.
"Bitch! Maggie bitch!" he cursed as he stroked his cock up her ass.
He bit down on the nape of her neck as he rammed his cock up into her
asshole and blasted his sperm out into her. She bounced and shook and
went limp again, groaning weakly.
As she hung there gasping for breath, Mr. Stephens pulled his
softening cock out of her ass and moved away. Arms bound up behind
her, ankles fettered, bent at the waist with her skirt hoisted up to
expose her gartered nylons and lowered panties, Maggie sobbed softly
as she felt the sticky liquid dribble out of her ass and down the
insides of her thighs turning the fabric of her nylons darker as it
oozed down.
*******
The following day Mr. Stephens had insisted that he would provide
Maggie transportation home. She would ride with him in his chartered
limosine.
He leaned over and put his hands on her shoulders. Her lips were
moist and glistening. He pressed her down.
"Kneel," Mr. Stephens said. There was no room for doubt in the word.
His face was calm.
She was awkward on her heels but the hands on her shoulders steadied
her. She knelt at his feet, her nylon covered knees slipping slightly
on the carpeted floor of the limo. His hands calmly undid the belt and
fastenings of his trousers, parting them. His cock was bloated and
stiff. It tilted upward, throbbing in anticipation. His fingers rested
behind her head and pressed her face toward him, rubbing her nose and
mouth over him. She felt the tip of his cock on her lips. A drop of
salty fluid was dragged over her lips. She kept her mouth closed
tightly and tried to pull away, but he held her head firm. His own
hand reached for his cock and lifted it, its head at her lips. He
brushed it back and forth.
"Open your mouth," he said.
Maggie's lips parted but her jaw remained locked. He waited a
moment, then slipped a thumb into the corner of her mouth, behind her
teeth, then pried her open like a horse forced to accept a bridle.
"Don't disobey," he hissed. And then, "Or will your secret will be
short-lived!
Maggie understood the threat. She did not resist as one hand
twisted her hair while the other guideed his cock into her open mouth.
His pubic hair bristled in her nostrils. Compliantly she begin to bob
her head up and down his now rock hard shaft. His cock filled her
cheeks and flattened her tongue. She gasped through her nose. His had
forced her to let his cock find the back of her throat and hit it over
and over.
"Suck me," he hissed, and she did, gulping at him, sliding from base
to tip. He seemed to thicken between her lips. Even in his sitting
position, he rocked into her. She heard his breathing quicken and felt
his cock spasm. He started to cum, a warm leak then a spurt against
the roof of her mouth. He squirted into her mouth, she was aware of
his knees, pressing her shoulders between them, the hand on her had,
the thick salty fluid spilling down her throat. Suddenly he pushed her
head back. She knew he hasn't finished. Seated over her, he tilted her
head back, then shot semen on her face, hot and sticky and white.
When Maggie opened her eyes, Mr. Stephens had not moved. His cock
was limp in his hand, and flushed red. He was watching her face which
was stained with drying semen. "Lick me clean," he said.
She hesitated momentarily and then complied, using her tongue and lips
to work on his cock until it ws wet only with her saliva.
"Get up," he said finally. She climbed unsteadily to sit on the
bench seat behind her.
"Remember that I expect your continued obedience," he said as she
sat opposite him, his cum still sticky on her face.
