 |
||
| Ye Olde Fetish Shoppe | Back to M | Back to main page |
|
||
| Ye Olde Fetish Shoppe | Back to M | Back to main page |
Ye Olde Fetish Shoppe
(MM/f, nc, humil, BDsm)
By William Drake
"William Drake" <mast_1945@hotmail.com>
Ye Olde Fetish Shoppe
You've been thinking more and more about that shop I'd told you about
on the second floor above the adult book store at Seventh and Hill. You've
tried telling yourself that all you were interested in was finding a sexy
outfit to wear for the first time we'd be together in real privacy ... when
you'd be introduced to the thrills of being bound ... helpless ... used.
But, in the back of your mind, the image of all the bondage gear I'd
described continued rattling around.
This was your one day off for the week and the temptation had become
too much. You parked your car on a side street and searched for the door
I'd told you about; the one that would save you the embarrassment od
entering through the porno shop. On the second try, you found the very
discreet entry, but walked past it again, haunted by the image in your mind
of a neighbor driving by and seeing you ... maybe even a neighbor who would
tell your strait-laced husband where he or she had seen you!
Finally, realizing that you're making yourself even more obvious by
your hesitation, you enter and climb the narrow, dimly-lit staircase. At
the top, it opens into a small shop, about twenty-five by twenty feet. The
place seems packed with merchandise. Racks of handcuffs, floggers, whips,
clamps of various designs, mannequins displaying French Maid outfits, filmy
lingerie, even latex bodysuits. Your breath quickens at the sight oif so
much validation that so many others must share your needs.
You pause a moment to lok around at the others in the shop. The
saleswoman is waiting on a couple. Even their posture tells you instantly
that he is a Dominant and she is his slave. The clerk is showing them a
variety of floggers. There are two other customers as well, both men. One
appears to be about fifty ... the other seems to be hardly out of his teens.
Knowing that they were there before you, you spend some time looking over
the merchandise more carefully. At some point you are aware that the couple
is stepping back into a small alcove at the back of the shop, but seeing
that the saleswoman has turned her attention to the older man, you continue
looking around.
After a few moments, you hear a noise like a brittle stick cracking,
follow by a muted whimper. You try to ignore it, but it's repeated several
times. You're certain now that it's coming from the alcove, and curiousity
drives you to drift back that way and peek around the corner. You can't
hold in a gasp. The young woman is standing, bent forward just enough to
put her hands on her knees. Her slacks and panties are pooled around her
ankles. Her Master stands to her side, wielding the flogger, whipping her
bare ass with it again and again. Her eyes are closed and she's biting her
lower lip, but she seems to be trying to thrust her ass backwards into each
blow.
You tell yourself you should quietly step back into the body of the
shop, but something about the scene ... seeing for the first time that which
you'd imagined so many times since you were in your early teens ... the
redness of the backs of the woman's thighs and her ass ... the obvious bulge
in the front of the man's slacks ... the pure sexuality of it all ... keeps
you rooted to the spot.
"It looks like fun, doesn't it?"
The sound of a voice almost in your ear makes you jump. Looking over
your shoulder you see the other two customers are standing right behind you.
It's clear that it was the older one who'd spoken. He's looking into your
eyes, and his expression approximates a leer. You're torn between the
impulse just to make some kind of an excuse for watching the salacious scene
or simply to push past them and run from the place. But while your mind is
still spinning in confusion, each of them grabs one of your upper arms and
hustles you forward into the alcove.
"She seemed to be enjoying the show," the same man tells the Master,
"so I thought she might like to join in."
Both of the couple look at you. The woman keeps her servile position
and seems to be glaring at you with irritation. Her companion's reaction is
different. His eyes rake down your body, pausing particularly at the way
your breasts strain against your blouse as you struggle.
"Why not?" he grins. "My slut could probably use the rest. Strip
her."
Panicked now, you try to pull free, but the combined stregth of two men
is too much. While they pull the clothes from your body, the Master pulls a
bench that is part of the shop's merchandise from under a counter. It has
shackles built into each of the four corners. You find their purpose once
you're naked. The man with the flogger grabs your hair and pulls you
forward, forcing you down to the bench on your back. Between the three of
them, they quickly have your wrists secured to two corners and your ankles
to the other two. These last were spaced to keep your legs spread wide.
The two who'd stripped you then step back. They unzip their pants,
pull out their cocks, and begin stroking them into hardness while they leer
down at your nudity. The third trails the thongs of the flogger softly
across your belly.
You twist your head around to look at his slave, your expression
begging her to do something. But she stands against the wall, her pants
still down around her ankles, her arms folded under her breasts. She looks
at you with stark hatred, evidently pissed at you for distracting her
Master's attention from her. There will be no help from that quarter. You
turn your head back toward the open part of the shop to scream for the
saleswoman ... to beg her to call the police. But she stands in the
entryway of the alcove, one shoulder leaned up against the jamb. She's
smiling and one of her hands is pushed down inside the elastic waistband of
her slacks. You can see her fingers working under the cloth as she plays
with herself.
"I've locked the door," she tells your potential tormentor softly.
"You won't be interrupted."
You sob in helplessness as he nods, then raises the flogger and brings
it down sharply over your white, tender belly. He seems pleased with your
high-pitched shriek of pain. He raises the instrument and brings it down
again and again, criss-crossing your abdomen ... your belly ... even the
soft underswells of your breasts, with fiery welts.
Just when you think you'll pass out from the pain and the
embarrassment, he stops and nods to the other two men. The older one steps
between your spread thighs, takes his cock in his hand, sets it at the
entrance to your pussy, and plunges it home. As you open your mouth to
moan, the younger boy grabs your hair, yanks your head down below the end of
the bench and jams his own meat into your mouth.
Confusion floods your brain. Fright battles with the shamed
realization of how many times you've fantasized scenes just like this. Two
penises plunging into the two ends of your body excite you despite yourself.
Then you feel a sharp pain, first in one nipple, then the other. With the
young man brutally plunging in and out of your upside down face, you can't
see the cause, but you know that the Master has found a pair of nipple
clamps on the shelf and snapped them on you. The agony they cause seems to
shoot from your boobs, through your belly, and staright to your citoris.
You begin cumming just as the young boy starts shooting what seems like an
unending stream of gooey gism into your helpless mouth.
When he finishes and pulls out, he grabs a handful of your hair and
uses it to wipe his sticky cock. Even that degrading ritual excites you as
you become even more aware of the prick the older man is sawing in and out
of your cunt. As the boy steps back you can raise your head again. You're
acutely aware that all four of the others in the room are looking at you ...
leering at you as if you're some cheap, street whore. That brings you to
the edge, and when the man raping you you groans that he can't hold it
anymore, you can't help crying out your own fulfillment just as he blows his
load deep into your belly.
When he pulls out and straightens up, you pray that your ordeal is
over. But you see that the Master is now naked from the waist down. He
stands over you, stroking his own erection. He swings a leg over the bench,
straddling your chest and facing your feet. Settling down, he lays his dick
between your breasts, takes one in each hand, and folds them over his
hardness. As he starts fucking between them you can see his ass waving back
and forth above your face ... feel his balls bouncing against his chin.
"Get over here," he growls at his slave. "Make yourself useful for
once! Lap this little bitch's cunt!"
It takes a moment for the import of his words to penetrate your
swirling mind, but when you feel her hands against the insides of your
thighs, pressing them even further apart, you understand. You stiffen. Not
one of those fantasies that lead you to this point included contact with
another woman. The very idea has always repulsed you. But when her tongue
begins tracing lightly up and down along your labial lips. your sensitive
nerve endings betray you once again. Your body couldn't care less about the
source of the stimulation. It responds to its own needs and soon you're
levering your hips up and down, trying to swab your pussy over the insistent
tongue.
Then, when the cunt-slave slides two fingers up into your already
sperm-slickened hole and concentrates her lingual attentions on your clit,
you erupt into orgasm one last time. You're barely aware at the time of the
long ropes of the Master's ejaculate looping down across your belly and
abdomen. When he rises, his slaves needs no prompting for her next task.
She licks her way up your body, happily consuming the gooey mess.
You open your eyes, hoping once again that the long ordeal is over, but
you see the other two men standing by your side, this time with hte
saleswoman between them. She is stroking a new hard-on in each hand. The
younger one comes forst, followed soon by the other. She carefully directs
each load onto your aching boobs. Like the other woman, she then kneels
beside you and wordlessly licks the mess off your trembling mounds. But
unlike her submissive predecessor, she doesn't immediately swallow. One
hand takes the back of your head and lifts it. She brings her mouth to
yours and kisses you deeply. Your lips fall open and you allow her tongue
to push the two strangers' combined sperm loads into your mouth ... and you
swallow it greedily.
Later, after you're released and allowed to dress, you realize that
tongues can only clean so much. As you feel your clothes being stuck to the
front of your body by the remnants of the scum of three men whose names you
don't even know, you're surprised to realize that your first thought is how
you can hide these clothes unwashed from your husband; how you can keep them
as a reminder.
And much later still, as you leave carrying your purchases ... a Roman
slave tunic that goes over one shoulder and leaves the other breast exposed,
a filmy negligee, and the cum-slickened clamps that were used on your
nipples ... the saleswoman accompanies you down the stairs. Before she
unlocks the door to the street, she kisses you deeply and fondles one sore
tit through your blouse. In response to her question, you promise to
return.
Soon!