Sheryle awoke, the lights dim and sedate in the room. For a long time, she simply lay there on the bed wondering what was going to happen to her. She knew the dull ache in her cunt came from having her cherry taken. Rubbing across her snatch, she moaned lightly, feeling the now familiar surges of desire race up and into her body.
Before she knew what she was doing, she had a finger stuffed all the way up her tiny pussy. She finger-fucked herself until her breath came in ragged, harsh pants. She knew her tits were rising and falling heavily even though she kept her eyes firmly shut. The feelings inside her were so exciting she wished they would never go away.
After she got herself off playing with her own cunt, she had to slow down. Her hand was cramping and the ache in her pussy was turning into pain. It hadn't been any bed of roses getting rid of her virginity. But she couldn't say she had hated it. The feather had been almost silly when she looked back on it. The man using it – was it Stanton or someone else? – had taken her mind off the slight discomfort then.
She had loved the actual fucking. Never again would she call herself a girl. Sheryle knew she was a full-fledged woman now, having experienced the delights only a woman can know. That didn't take away from the fact that she was still securely chained to the bed. Nor did it help her figure out any way she could escape. Naked, helpless, she could only wait for whatever Mr. Stanton wanted to do to her.
She wasn't the least bit happy with that. Or with the idea that Michael was strung up like a side of beef somewhere else in the mansion. Still, if one of them had to be hung up by the wrists, she preferred it to be with him. She was enjoying the feel of the soft velvet bedspread under her nakedness too much to want to swap it for cold chains in an even colder room.
As Sheryle roiled over, she saw the door open. Mr. Stanton came in. She blinked hard at the sight. He didn't actually enter the room. He strode in, regal as any king and looking even more commanding. She felt as if she should drop to her knee and offer allegiance. But the chains on her wrists prevented it.
"On your feet, wench," he ordered. "Dress in these."
He dropped a small sack onto the floor in front of her. For the span of a heartbeat, she wasn't sure she should even pick up the sack. She was afraid of what she might find inside. Or what she might not find.
She did as she was told. After all, this might be the stud who had freed her from the bonds of her own self-imposed virginity. She had someone to thank for that. Listening to the tales her girlfriends in school had told, she had come to think of it as painful and not the least bit interesting. To hear them talk, it was just something that had to be gotten out of the way.
Sheryle hadn't found it that way at all. She had gotten off repeatedly and wanted more. That was the mark of a real cocksman.
"What's in it?" she asked, reaching the edge of the sack and pulling it toward her. She didn't take her eyes off Mr. Stanton. He stood emotionless like a statue cut from stone.
"Open it and find out. I assume you know how to dress like a real woman."
Curious, she opened the sack and pulled out the garments inside. She held up one after another, puzzling at them. She hardly understood what she had been given, until it slowly fell into place. Four garments: two black net stockings, a garter belt and a corset with strong steel supports.
"You want me to wear this getup? I'd feel like a fool."
"You'll feel my whip if you don't don them immediately," he said. His voice hadn't changed tone. The same cold monotone warned her that he wasn't joking. He meant for her to put on these kinky garments. So put them on she would.
He watched her intently as she sat on the bed, the warm, soft velvet comforting against her bare ass. She felt self-conscious as she pulled on one of the stockings. It seemed to caress her leg as she pulled it up around her firm, well-fleshed thigh. Watching, the man licked his lips once. That was the only sign that he was even alive.
Sheryle pulled on the other stocking, loving the way it clung to her flesh. It stimulated her, made her feel even lustier than she had before. Glancing at Mr. Stanton, she saw that the response in the man this time was even more pronounced. There was a distinct bulge growing at his crotch. The girl perversely decided to give the man a real thrill. Standing, she bent down over the bed, turning her well-rounded, perky white ass in the direction of the watching man. She parted her legs just enough to allow a shock of her red pussy fur to stick out in contrast with her milk-white skin. Bending further, she knew he could see her pussy and asshole.
That was exactly what she wanted. Let him suffer. She was the one calling the shots right now. She could make him do anything she wanted – later. But first the garter belt.
She draped it around her waist, then fastened the elastic bands to the tops of her stockings. She felt sinfully sexy by the time she finished. The picture she presented was incredible. Seeing herself in a full length mirror across the room made the young girl gasp.
Gone was the teenager. In her place was a woman with full-flaring tips, well rounded ass, and legs that could please any man if they were wrapped around his waist. She pirouetted a little, not able to move as much as she wanted due to the chains on her slender wrists. She rattled the bindings once to let the man know what she thought of them.
"Hurry," he panted. "Hurry and finish!"
She smiled sweetly, then licked her lips with just the tip of her pink tongue. The movement was erotic, a turn-on that would make a statue get a hard-on. It worked well on Mr. Stanton. She could see the bulge in his pants began to pulse and buck now. She knew his erection was paining him, trying to turn cartwheels in his pants.
She pulled on the corset, seeing that it laced up the front. The stiff black-lace garment fit her snugly. She grunted as her tits were cruelly mashed down by the corset top. She allowed her boobs to slide free and rest on the very top. This hurt a little as the edge of the garment cut into the base of her tits, but she knew it was more arousing.
Lacing up the front, she moved back into view in the mirror. The sight greeting her was a real turn-on. She was white skinned and fair. The black offset this beautifully. The red shock of hair on the top of her head was in wild disarray from her bout in bed earlier, but the most distinctive portion of her anatomy was her pussy mound.
The red-furred patch was surrounded by lilywhite flesh. And around this was black of stockings, garter belt and corset. Just looking at herself, Sheryle began to feel horny. She knew her cunt was dribbling out its thick fuck juices. She was turning herself on just by dressing up!
"Well?" she asked Mr. Stanton. "Do I meet your high standards?"
He said nothing, moving around to stare at her. She felt a little uncomfortable then, as if she had lost control somewhere along the way. His silence was worse than if he cursed her. His eyes drank in every single square inch of her black-draped body. She began to feel like a cheap whore dressing up for a john. She was the one on display. There was nothing she could do about it. The chains on her wrists ensured that she simply stand and let him ogle her lush young body.
"Please," she said, her voice shriller than she had intended. "Don't just stand there, say something. Anything!"
He nodded, then turned and left the room. She watched him go, bewildered. The red-haired girl knew that Mr. Stanton had liked what he saw. Why was he leaving? Her pussy was churning and paining her. But the pain this time was from the lack of a hard, throbbing cock in it.
She wanted to be fucked again. She not only wanted it, she needed it! The single taste of a good fucking had given her a hunger that wasn't to be lightly denied.
She sat down heavily on the bed, disgusted with herself. She had done something wrong. She didn't look right. She wasn't pretty enough. Something had displeased Mr. Stanton and she took it as a personal flaw. Why wasn't she pretty enough for the man?
"Why?" she cried out loud, clapping her hand over her lips the instant she realized she was speaking aloud. The teenager thought she might summon up a horde of demons if she spoke.
And it seemed she was right.
Dull red lights filled the room making it difficult for her to see. Mr. Stanton returned, stripped to the waist. He had taken off his pants and put on a pair of leather shorts that seemed different to the young girl. Looking more closely, she saw that they laced up the front, much like her corset. The big difference was that this arrangement allowed the man's prick to hang loose in front.
"Here," he said, tossing her a small bottle. "Put this on my skin."
She stared dumbly at the bottle. It was oil.
"Do as I order! NOW!" he bellowed. The shock of hearing him shout at her made Sheryle obey without thinking. She remembered the feel of his whip and his displeasure. She wasn't sure which was worse. The lash of the leather strap only cut her skin. His wrath hurt her to the core of her being.
She moved as far forward as the chains would allow and began pouring the oil into her hand. Smearing it all over his back, she began to massage it into the man's skin. He stood stock still, more of a bronze, than a human. Yet his flesh was warm under her fingers, and for all his apparent skinniness, he had rippling muscles.
The teenager began applying the oil with more vigor. It felt good to rub it into the man's flesh. It turned her on. The heat of the friction between her fingers and his spine made her breathe more heavily. The corset started to cut off her wind but she couldn't stop now. She had to smear even more of the oil across the man's belly.
It was rock-hard. He hardly moved as she worked lower, toward his prick. The cock dangled limply. She wondered if it was dead, if he had left the room and jacked off before returning. The slight tremors in the entire length told her that wasn't likely.
She worked the oil into the man's legs. They were like pillars supporting his upper body. The muscles stood out in bold relief once she had applied the slippery oil. The dim red light made him seem of gigantic proportions. She could hardly believe any man could be so masculine, so virile.
"Mister…" she said meekly. "Master!"
The word shocked her. She hadn't meant to call this awful person "master", yet she had. The psychiatrists called that a Freudian slip, saying what she really meant, instead of what she had intended to say.
"Good," he said. "You learn quickly and well. Dispense with the oil. I feel its effects on my body and soul already."
She watched in mute delight as his prick slowly jerked and bucked until it was half erect. Quickly, she dived forward and greedily stuffed it into her mouth. Sucking hard, she nursed on the stiffening cock until it was entirely erect. The plum-tipped end filled her mouth, making her feel more like a woman than ever before.
This was what it meant to be a woman, she told herself. To have a man and to want him – and to be able to please him fully. Hadn't she smeared the oil onto Mr. Stanton's body as he commanded? He loved it! And now the proof of his lust was throbbing hard inside the humid cavern of her mouth.
Her tongue whirled around, stroking and touching lightly in all the right places. She had learned to give a blow job well. Her cheeks went hollow until she thought she would pass out from lack of air.
Gasping, she started licking and kissing the underside of the man's prick. He shoved her back. She fell heavily, startled.
"Master!" she cried out. "What's wrong? Aren't I pleasing you?"
"No," he said, cold and ominous. "I want more."
"Take me, master. Anything! But don't leave me again!"
She remembered being abandoned in the room the first time. She had thought he would never return. And when he had, it had been in the dark. She hadn't even seen the man who had fucked her cunt for the first time. She could only guess it was Stanton. But the uncertainty, the waiting, she couldn't take that. She would do anything he wanted – so long as he didn't leave her alone.
"I will have my pleasure with you, you cunt, whenever I desire. You have no say in the matter."
"Take me, master. Now. Up my pussy. Up my ass! Yes, take me up my asshole. Butt-fuck me, if it will please you."
He glared at her as if she were a piece of shit. He sneered openly and strode around her, glaring down at her. She stayed on hands and knees, the weight of his opinion heavily on her.
Then she smiled. She would have to entice him. She would have to use the garments she wore to make him want her again. Nothing was worse than being ignored by this man. She parted her stocking clad thighs and moved so that she was on hands and knees. The way her tits hung down over the top of the corset proved to be more comfortable as long as she stayed in this position.
Wiggling her white ass in the air in a manner she thought would encourage the man, she began to move around. The chains on her wrists kept her from getting too far from the bed, but she had enough freedom of movement. Just enough.
Without a word, he dropped down behind her, his hard, erect prick jamming between the meaty slabs of her ass. His prick had been oiled by the run-off from his body. It slid easily toward her snatch.
"Oh, yes, yes!" she called out. "This is nice! It's exactly what I want!"
"What you want is meaningless, bitch," he informed her. "What I want is of paramount importance. Please me and I will not punish you!"
The irony of the situation wasn't lost in her mind. She was supposed to help him get his rocks off! And she wanted nothing more than to feel the steely length of his cock driving hard and deep into her pussy.
She shoved her ass backward, hoping to spear herself with his cock. She missed. His prick slid between the puffy cuntlips, stroking firmly in the liquid sex gash. She shuddered all over, pleasure quivering its way into her body. This was it! She could stay here all day long with his prick parting her pussylips and making her totally aware of every single nerve in her pussy.
It wasn't to work that way. The man reached out and gripped her tits, his well-oiled body sliding easily across her ass and the part of her back not covered with the corset.
She sobbed in reaction. His fingers on her tits were paradise to her. He stroked from the broad bases to the pointy nipples, as if he were milking a cow. The full effect made all the blood in her tits rush to the nipples. They expanded and soon looked like hard, red fingers pointing directly downward. The lightest of touches on them made her whine with desire.
But the cock thrusting slowly back and forth next to her turgid cuntlips thrilled her the most. The promise of having that huge pecker buried all the way up her cunt was immense.
"Fuck me, fuck me gooood!" she demanded.
"I do what pleases me!" he snapped.
"Yes, yes, master, whatever you say. But fuck me!"
His hands gripped down tighter on her tits as he pulled himself forward. This time his prick was lined up with her cunt hole. She felt the heavy, ponderous head begin to part her cuntlips. Then he plunged balls-deep into her pussy.
She screamed. The pain in her newly reamed-out cunt was more than she could stand. She wanted him to stop, but the words refused to form on her lips. All she could do was scream over and over.
"No, no, noooooo!" she whined. "It huuuuuurts…"
"It is good," he said.
And he fucked her. He began with short, quick strokes. She felt his cock pressing hotly into the walls of her pussy. The rapid fucking warmed her cunt walls to the point where she was sure he was ripping her apart. The rawness of her still quivering cunt made her think she would bleed to death. In spite of enjoying her first fucking earlier, she was sore and aching now.
The quickness of his every stroke made her cunt hurt all the more. She wanted to pass out but he wouldn't let her. He fucked her like a bitch in heat. She felt his cock seeking out new territory deep in her guts. The swift thrusting in and out of her clinging twat began to take on added dimensions for the bound girl. She discovered that the pain was fading away and was being replaced by something else. Not quite joy, but not pain either.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You're hurting me. Why, why? What did I ever do to you?"
He refused to answer. His hairy legs pressed enticingly against her stocking-clad legs. She felt her ass pressing into his laced leather shorts. The smoothness of his body was due to the oil leaking off. As he sweated more and more, getting into the fucking, the oil ran off.
She tried to center her attention on only the things giving her pleasure. It was hard. The corset was riding up and cutting into her tits. She was sure she would have both boobs slashed off before she was finished. But the feel of the garter belt around her waist and the silken stockings on her legs thrilled her strangely. The feeling was kinky, perverted and totally obscene. She loved it.
Raising one of her legs, she managed to wrap it around the man's back. This brought his cock surging up into her cunt in a new and delightfully different way. The pain she had felt was being stroked away by his fucking cock. Every nerve ending in her fuck tunnel was responding joyously now. She was forgetting the pain he had originally given her.
"Oh, it's so niiice," she cooed. She felt the sweat on her body, on her face. The teenager hadn't realized before now that she was responding so strongly to the man's prick. She was. And she wanted it all. She was hungry for prick and had to have it.
Tightening her leg around his waist pulled him deeper and deeper into her pussy. She began rocking back and forth, adding power to his every stroke. Soon she lived only for the feel of his huge cock reaming out her twat. The prick filled her with joy. The sensations beginning to mount in her belly were indescribably good. She had to have more.
Thrusting her chest out and down so that her tits filled the palms of the man's hands helped her achieve her goal. The sexual tensions inside her tender young body exploded. She snapped. Crying out her lust, she climaxed. Her entire body went rigid. She felt her cunt convulsing around the man's hidden prick.
This was enough to make him gasp. She heard the reaction before the blood started to rush too loudly through her head. As she relaxed a little and came down from her sex high, she discovered that the mysterious Mr. Stanton was fucking her furiously. Every stroke was long and powerful and deep.
He rammed hard into her cunt, making the soft flesh smash against his leather shorts. She could feel his lacing cutting cruelly into her flesh. But that hardly mattered to her. The steely bar of his prick inside her damp, clinging cunt was all that counted now.
As he slid out, he used a corkscrew motion that drove her insane with lust. He dragged his cock over each and every square inch of her inner pussy. As his prick slipped free, he bucked up and down, then quickly fucked back into her juicy twat.
"I'm commmiiiing!" she screamed aloud. His hands squeezed down without mercy on her tits until she thought her nipples would pop. And his prick filled her to overflowing.
Again and again he brought her off. Then came the payoff for the man. He began fucking her with jerky, rough strokes. Inside her tightly clinging, almost-virgin cunt, she felt his prick begin to expand. It almost doubled in size before it exploded like a hidden stick of dynamite. The hot surge of his jizz filling her pussy brought her off.
Everything he did to her brought her off. She came and came and came. And when his prick dribbled from her pussy, she sank forward, her head resting on her chained hands. She was panting hard and wanted more…
Sheryle couldn't believe that her body wasn't satisfied. But it wasn't. Her pussy had tasted cock, now it was insatiable. It had to have more. She looked back over her bare shoulder at the man who had so expertly fucked her. He now stood, towering over her.
"Fuck me again," she said weakly. "I need it. My pussy needs it!"
"Slut!" was all he said as he walked off. She would have laughed at the sight of his limp, dangling prick except she remembered how nice it had felt when it was erect. She wanted even more of it.
And Sheryle didn't doubt for an instant that if she had laughed at Mr. Stanton that he would have returned with his whip. She didn't mind dressing up in incredibly sexy clothes, but the whip was the one thing she couldn't stand. The pain lancing into her body was terrible.
Especially when the very same man could give her heavenly delights using his cock.