The Price Of Greed
By Speech Master
I am dabbing my leaking sex with yet another tissue. To be honest, I go through
1-2 boxes per day. Otherwise, I would soak the expensive leather chair with a
dripping puddle. I have to be careful when drying myself, though, because I have
a hair-trigger clit. One touch would set me off into the most intense and
desperately needed orgasm in the history of womankind. But an orgasm now would
cost me millions of dollars. My Owner has teased me without release for over two
months. If I can clear my head for a few minutes, I should explain.
I joined the prestigious Wall Street firm of Hallowell Winthrop Investments two
years ago straight out of an MBA program. I was a guppy, one of only two female
brokers swimming in a testosterone infested shark tank. This is not just a
career; it is a way of life. We are a greedy personality type. We work 70-80
hours per week, trying to reach our fortune by our mid-thirties before
exhaustion reaches us first. I quickly became the only woman broker when my
colleague, Melissa, had a nervous breakdown at the advanced age of 30 years.
For my two years, I languished, making cold calls and managing entry-level
investors that did nothing to increase my income nor make me anything more than
one of the faceless many at HWI. Although I made over $75,000 per year, if you
reduced my 401k, taxes (and NY Taxes are huge), college loans, rent, clothes,
food, health club membership, I was left with nothing to save. I needed to land
a big fish.
Through a sister of a friend's doorman, I was able to get my hands on an
invitation to one of the hottest fundraisers in the city. It's what I call a
target-rich environment. Hundred's of multi-millionaires and even a few
billionaires will be flaunting their wealth in the name of some worthy
children's charity. I did my homework on those I knew would be attending and
prepared for the festivities.
I treat myself to a slinky, yet sophisticated Dior dress. The dress hugs my
every curve, and the elegant two-inch heels draw attention to the long curves of
my runner's legs. Being an athlete all through school, I was diligent in keeping
in top shape. I still work out semi-regularly, although not enough for my tastes
Dressed to kill (or at least to inflict serious damage) I strutted into the
packed ballroom with an eye for the hunt. Within minutes, I spot my first prey.
Charles Zittrain, the 45-year-old CEO of Zittrain Enterprises (net worth $350
million), was standing with two women making small talk. I accidentally (on
purpose) backed into him.
"Excuse me, I am so clumsy," I said with all of the sincerity I could muster.
"It's certainly okay, young lady," he said confidently as he helped me regain my
balance. So far so good.
"Please forgive me. At least let me buy you a drink to make up for my rudeness,"
I state as I smooth my dress out. As I had hoped, he spied my ample charms as I
rearranged the fabric.
"Certainly," he smiled. I glanced at the other women and I vaguely recognized
the taller of the two. Yet I could not put a face to her yet.
"My name is Lauren Daniels. It certainly is a pleasure to meet you," I extend to
all three. I am introduced to his wife, Veronica, and to Janice Locke. Now I
recognize her. I fight to keep my eyes from bugging out. Ms. Locke is the
34-year-old founder and CEO of Locke Software (net worth $2 billion and rapidly
climbing), one of the very few female success stories in the high tech industry.
I have heard she is a bit reclusive and she has been the top target of my
brokerage for years.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Locke," I said with a grin. "It is good to know that I am
not the only single woman who supports children's charities." I try not to show
it, but I am in awe of her. She is beautiful, but not in the classic sense.
Although I am no slouch at 5'11", she seems to tower over me by at least a
couple of inches. She is thin, yet with broad shoulders and an aristocratic
chin. And her eyes seem to see right through you.
"Quite a perceptive observation. I have the feeling that we might enjoy each
other's company as the evening progresses," she smiles as the Zittrains exchange
knowing glances.
"That is kind to say. Starving myself to fit in this gown will not be for not,
then," I reply.
"How are you enjoying your first evening with us, Miss Daniels," she asks. It
was worded like a craftsman, displaying her knowledge of the charity's previous
functions while challenging me to respond in a worthy manner.
"The food is good and the company is even better. As a Chinese proverb says
'first time strangers; second time friends,'" I say with a sly smile.
And so we commence with the sport of banter. She is clever with her words and it
takes all of my wit to duel with her toe-to-toe. As I had hoped, the Zittrains
soon accuse themselves, leaving us alone at last.
"Ms. Daniels, I know a lot about a lot of people. I am never unprepared. I even
know something about you," she says, raising her eyebrow with a level of
intrigue.
"Then we did not even know we were not strangers," I say, proud of my word play.
Glad that I took her bait, she continued, "You are an investment broker for that
rather stodgy Hallowell Winthrop. I get calls and letters from them all of the
time. I don't trust anyone at your firm, or any investment type, for that
matter. I don't like people with 'sure things' and 'proven formulas'. Do you
know what I invest in?" she taunts.
I take my best guess without hesitation, "People, Miss Locke."
"Correct, my dear Miss Daniels. And if I have read you correctly, you will jump
at the offer I am about to make to you." She enjoys my reaction as she waits a
few seconds before proceeding.
"I like you. You have an innate intelligence and feistiness that I cherish. I
can use you, and your services, but in a much more committed way than you would
have ever asked for. So I make you this offer, and I will allow you until
tomorrow morning to provide me with an answer. You will become my sole
investment executive. Initially, I will provide you with $150 million dollars to
invest. If you well, then I will entrust with you an additional $15 million
dollars per month. You will immediately manage the largest private account in
the company."
My eyes shine with the dollars signs, with the vision of my plush, corner
office, with the stretch limo and the company jet.
"I will work closely with you," she says as she leans her lips close to my ear,
her near-whisper sending little shivers through me. "As a matter of fact, you
will be at my beck and call. If you ever displease me, I will end the
relationship immediately. I will be very stern and very demanding, so you better
be committed to me if you agree." She leans back, hands me a card from her
purse. In a flash, she turns on her heels and is gone.
I am in a daze. This went better than I could have ever imagine. I downed my
drink and daydreamed the entire cab ride home about my soon-to-be wealthy life.
All night long, I tossed and turned with the thoughts of the money and the
glory.
I could not rush to work fast enough. I called the number on the card. Expecting
a secretary, Janice's voice surprised me. "Nice to hear from you, Ms. Daniels. I
will transfer $150 million over this morning. You will be bringing all the
appropriate paperwork to my offices during lunch. I will expect you at 12:00
noon sharp. Don't be late." She hung up before I could even say a word.
The transfer into my account by Janice Locke made a quite the stir around the
office. My manager congratulated me and gave me unlimited freedom to serve Miss
Locke. I immediately invested in a small biotech company that I had heard was
about to announce a new gene therapy for Alzheimer's, in two hotel companies
that are rumored to be merging within the next week and the rest into a web
services firm that was about to announce a joint venture with IBM. I have just
enough time to get my paperwork in order before I rush out the door to make my
meeting.
I am two minutes late as I am ushered into the large office of Janice Locke. The
room is opulent, with fine paintings, mahogany bookshelves and a large
conference table at one end. Her large mahogany desk sat at the other end, and a
sitting area comprised the middle. The view from the 65th story windows was
breath taking.
"You are late. Do you think that this is a game! I have $150 million dollars
entrusted with you and you repay me by disobeying my request! Maybe I have made
the wrong decision," she says sadly as she reaches for the phone.
I am panic-stricken. I would surely be fired if this account is pulled and the
complaint registered with my manager. "Please, Miss Locke, I am sorry. It won't
happen again. Please don't make that call."
She hesitates, looking at me with a smoldering stare as she runs her finger
lightly along the neckline of her blouse. She then hangs up the phone. "I will
give you one chance. I will sign these papers and keep you as my investment
advisor.....But...." She lingers on the word as she quickly signs the papers.
".....you have to sign some papers for me as well. Please sit down as I explain
each one," she says as she points me to the plush leather sofa. She sits next to
me and starts handing me papers to sign.
"This one is confidentially agreement."
I sign.
"This one is an exclusivity agreement, where you will only work on my account
and no others."
I read it and sign. My firm will have no difficulties with this.
"And this one, giving yourself to me as a sex slave," she says with a gleeful
stare, challenging me to say "no".
I shudder, and jump up in utter shock. I am about to tell her to "fuck off" but
I gather myself and respond as kindly as I can, "I don't understand. I am not
really interested you in 'that way' and I am not into that whole kinky scene and
honestly, I have a gentleman I have started dating, so I must decline your
offer." I ramble on while shaking in disbelief.
"I know everything about you. I know that you are not seeing anyone right now. I
know that you lost your mother to cancer your first year of college, that your
father left you as a toddler, that you have no real family to speak of. I know
that you are over your head in dept, including that womping $70,000 in college
loans. "I know that you were checking me out at the ballroom. And I think that
you like what you see. You don't seem to understand, my pet," she coos
confidently, "this is not optional. I will continue using you as my exclusive
investment consultant, eventually making you richer than you have ever dreamed,
in exchange for your body. If not, I will make that call to your firm and tell
them I must have made a mistake with you."
I don't know what to do. I will lose my job. The hopes of the last 24 hours are
now crushing me. I could try to explain to the partners of my firm, but then I
would be violating the confidentiality agreement. I am stuck, and she knows it.
"Hurry up, pet. Is it yes or no?" She commands.
"What does this mean, being your sex slave? Does it mean that I will have...you
know...be with you?" I say, stumbling through the words.
"You will have to do everything I ask, without hesitation. I will control your
sex life, and you will serve me whenever I request. You have 5 seconds to say
yes and sign, or else." I can tell she is very impatient. Make millions, or
demolish my life. Not much of a choice.
I nod my head and sign the document.
"Smart choice, young lady. You will meet me at my place at 8:00PM. A gift box
will be waiting for you at your office. I expect you to be wearing everything in
that box and nothing else. When you show up, be prepared to everything I ask,
immediately, or suffer punishment. If this is understood, please show yourself
the door as I get back to my business." With that, she walks to her desk,
dismissing me in the process.
My legs are shaky as I make my way out of her office. I am stunned. And
frightened. And angry. Yet I can't help but notice as I climb into a cab how
moist my vagina has become, and how my nipples have stiffened. Is this turning
me on?? I have never thought of being with a woman and I am certainly no
lesbian. And a SEX SLAVE? My God, what does that mean? What the hell have I
gotten myself into?
I arrive to my office in a daze, barely noticing the praise of my colleagues as
I walk to my desk. My manager greets me immediately, a big shit eating grin on
his face. "I just received a call from Janice Locke. She has laid out her plan
for investment with us. Brilliant, if I can say so right now. We would like to
reward you for you hard work. Please follow me."
Everyone in the office quiets down as I am escorted through the rows and rows of
cubbies and computer monitors to a large corner office. This used to be the
office of the VP of trading, but he retired last month. The bickering and office
political games that were being played to get this office were nasty. Yet I am
the one who gets it. Along with a large desk, a plush leather chair and an
amazing view of the East river, I have sitting area and a bank of televisions
and computer monitors on the wall facing my desk. I even have a private
washroom. Wow!! This is certainly a departure from my modest upbringing.
It is explained that I will have a car at my service 24/7. I will have use of
the company plane when needed. I will be added to the company's golf club
membership. I will have an entertainment budget of $2,500 per month and a
clothing allowance of an additional $10,000 per year. I am then introduced to my
new secretary, Linda, who is an attractive lady about 10 years older than me,
who offers me coffee.
This isn't so bad. I can learn to love this.
The next few hours are such a whirlwind of activities and reorganization that I
don't even notice the gift-wrapped box that is tucked around the corner of the
couch. My hands tremble as a wave of trepidation and concern sweeps over me. I
look at the clock and it says 6:30PM. I look back at the box. Almost like a
bomb, I am afraid to touch it. I look out the window and analyze my situation.
Sacrifices. All this is another sacrifice. I can handle this to get the money
and power I desire. Summoning up my courage, I excuse my secretary for the day
and shut my door, locking it tight. With shaking hands I open my "present." I
pull out a black silk dress and a pair of black high-heeled sandals. I stare at
this for a few moments before stripping down. I pull the extremely tight dress
over my shoulders and down my sleek body. The heels may be a problem. They are
much, much higher than I have ever worn before and I am afraid of stumbling in
these towering shoes.
I look into the full-length mirror in my washroom and I am astonished. I look
damn good. Sexy, actually, except for the bra and panties, that can easily be
seen through the thin fabric. Then I remember her instructions, "...and nothing
else!" I pull off the dress and unstrap my bra, allowing my large, perky breasts
to lie naturally on my chest. My nipples are very hard, but no matter what I
try, I can't make them soft again. I give up and pull my panties down,
revealing my neatly shaved pubic mound. I can't believe how wet my panties are
as I stuff them into my purse. I can't be getting excited about this, can I?
Time is getting short, so I freshen my makeup and hurry out the door. Luckily, I
have an emergency stairway next to my office, which I use to walk down to the
next floor and catch the elevator. It is apparent to the two strangers in the
elevator the I am wearing absolutely nothing underneath my dress. The hem rides
up 6 inches above my knees. With the heels, I feel like I am all leg. I must
look like a high-priced call girl to them. The air circulates around my
extremely moist vagina, making me feel bad and naughty. I must admit I
half-enjoy the thrill and humiliation of showing off like this.
The cab rushes me to the Central Park West address. The doorman is expecting me
and ushers me to the penthouse express elevator. Before I know it, I am
nervously ringing the doorbell of the penthouse suite.
Greeting me is a maid; although she is unlike any maid I have ever seen before.
She had on a little dress the barely covered her shapely ass, and her neckline
plunged down between her mountainous breasts, showing tons of cleavage. Those
must be store-bought boobs. Her waist is impossibly thin, causing her huge
breasts look even bigger. Her heels were at least 5 inches long, maybe 6.
I am escorted to a large drawing room, were I meet Janice. The maid moves behind
Janice and stands with her feet spread apart about 2 feet and her hands clasped
behind her back.
"Stand as you see Brenda stand. Feet two feet apart, hands clasped behind your
back. This will be your default stance. Understood?"
I nod my head tentatively as I spread my feet apart and clasp my hands behind
me.
"Good girl. You shall always address me as Miss Locke from now on. Take off that
dress for me."
I tentatively pull the dress over my head, displaying my body to my new
mistress. I feel as exposed and naked as I ever have. The thought of her being
my mistress brings on another round of quivers.
She walks around me slowly, examining, but not touching. After several laps, she
stops behind me and whispers in my ear, " You have a great body, very strong and
lean." She traces her fingers along the curve of my shoulder and along my back.
"You have a tight, sexy ass," she says as she runs her fingers ever so lightly
over my butt. I am visibly shaking now.
Moving around again to the front, she runs her fingers up my flat stomach to the
underside of my breasts. "You breasts are much larger than I had anticipated. I
like you long hard nipples. No wonder you wear those thick bras and the
oversized clothes...you are trying to hide these slut nipples of yours, aren't
you?"
I am ashamed and humiliated by her degrading comments, and more importantly, by
how true they were. And despite this unimaginable position I am now in, I feel
an exhilarating rush that more intense than anything I have ever experienced.
She flicks my sensitive nipples a few times before trailing her supple fingers
down to my vagina. She smirks as she feels the wetness between my legs. Her
touch sends waves of exciting sensations through my sex and I am shocked at how
horny I am becoming. She uses her fingertip to rub my clit in light circles,
driving me insane with need. Her experienced touch drives me quickly towards an
orgasm. My breathing increases as I rapidly approach the edge. She stops right
before the moment of bliss. I can't help but release a deep groan of
frustration.
"Perfect. You will be a better pet than I had hoped for. Brenda, please prepare
my room while I explain the some things to our new pet."
I am lead through the long hallways of the first floor and up a winding
staircase to the second. "You will be my sex slave," she explains as we walk.
"Tonight, I will secure you to my bed and you will be brought to levels of bliss
that you have never dreamed could exist. After tonight, you will need my
permission to cum. So take in all you can tonight, because it may be a while
before you will get the chance again."
By this time, we have arrived at the Master Suite. Brenda is already finishing
her work on the four-poster king sized bed.
"Lie down on your back." Brenda secures padded leather cuffs to my wrists and
attaches them to cables that run from the corners of the headboard. My arms are
help comfortably above my head. My ankles are then secured in the same fashion
to the cables at the foot of the bed. Janice then presses a remote device,
pulling my arms and legs towards the corners. I groan as my body is stretched as
taut as a bow. A thin piece of jewelry was locked around my neck.
"That should be good. Brenda, I want you to give our new tease slave a night to
remember. I want her addicted to the power of her orgasms. If I am not happy
with your results, I will punish you so severely you will wish you were never
born." With that, Janice left the room, leaving me to the human Barbie Doll.
What Brenda did with me that night was beyond words. She uses her fingers and
tongue to slowly bring me back to the edge of orgasm. For hours she teases my
nipples and clit, occasionally licking my asshole as well. I have never been
more turned on in my life and I am moaning with lust and frustration.
"PLEASE LET ME CUM..I NEED IT...I REALLY NEED IT......I AM BEGGING YOU." Yet
she keeps teasing, over and over and over again. When I can no longer stand even
the gentle touch of her fingers and tongue, she pulls out a feather and uses it
on my clit. I scream and beg her to let me cum. She only smiles at my torment
and keeps going.
Hours later, with my body drenched in sweat and exhausted from this sensuous
torture, she lowers her tongue to my painfully erect clit and starts to lap at
it. The orgasm that finally washes over me is exponentially more powerful then
anything I could have ever imagined. I can't utter a word as the waves wash over
me.
As the sensations become too intense, I beg her to stop. Yet Brenda keeps
licking. She is determined to take another huge orgasm out of my body. And
another. And another. And another.
"PLEASE STOP! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE STOP!!! UGHHHHHHHHHH!" I can't breath. My
muscles ache from the hours of struggle.
"OH...MY...GOD.......NOT...AGGGAAIIINNNNNNN!" I thought I was going to die.
' MERCY.......OH
GOD.........PLEASE..............MERCY...........STOPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!" It feels
as though my soul is being raped.
I finally pass out.
When I awake, I free from my restraints and curled in a fetal position in the
middle of the bed. Although my body aches, my throat aches, and my sex aches, I
have never felt more alive and clear-headed. This is what pure contentment must
be like. I am even still horny. I luxuriate in the fine satin sheets for a
while, allowing myself to relive the exquisite evening.
"You are awake. How did you like the first evening of your new life, my tease
pet?" asked Janice from the doorway. She looked awesome in her tiny little bra
and panty set. "Get up and kneel beside me."
I jump at her words before she even completed them. If this is my new life, I
want to get started immediately. I sit on my legs, prone and naked in front of
the woman who will bring me tons of pleasure and tons of money. What could be
better?
"Today will be a busy day for you. Brenda has much to teach you in a short time,
so we have no time to waste. Now run and take a shower. I want you to shave your
body, including your pussy. Except for the hair on your head, your body is to
remain smooth as a baby at all times.
"Do you hair and makeup and apply the skin lotion you find on the counter. You
should find that everything here is the best in the world. Then dress in the
outfit that will be left for you on the bed. You will do everything that Brenda
instructs you today. If she is even slightly unhappy with you performance, she
can punish you hard and often. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Locke," I beam.
I rush into the shower. I use the razor I find on the counter to shave my arms,
legs, and eventually the light hair from around my vagina. My hands play over
the smooth feeling around my mound. My nipples and clit are still super
sensitive and I can't help but start rubbing my clit with my familiar touch. In
record time I bring myself up to the edge of an orgasm. This one feels much
bigger than any I have masturbated to before. Just as I am bringing myself over,
I feel a scorching pain shoot through my neck. I scream out in agony and drop to
my knees.
I forgot all about the thin necklace locked tightly around my neck. What the
hell brought that on? The massive zap of pain ended, but it takes at least half
a minute for the after-shocks to clear.
I decide to end my shower, dry off, blow-dry my hair and enter the bedroom. I
put on the tiny little bra, which fits under my heavy breasts and displays them
to perfection in the completely open cups. I slide the matching g-sting on,
which barely covers my vagina. I bend down to fasten the open toed stiletto
heels. The straps have small luggage locks, which I lock in place with a little
thrill shooting through me. This is so decadent. I do not realize how high they
are until I try to stand. These heels must be at least 5 inches.
I walk tentatively to the large mirror near the door and I am amazed by my look.
I ooze sex. I can't help but admire how hot I look. My brown hair flowing just
past my shoulders and my blues eyes make me look a bit like Jennifer Aniston. My
large breasts sit high on my sleek torso. The g-string and the heels make my
strong legs look a mile long.
I can believe how aroused I am right now. I instinctively push my g-string aside
and start rubbing my turgid clit. In world record time, I am about to hit
another massive orgasm when the blinding pain shoots through my neck again. I
fall to the ground screaming in pain.
Brenda laughs in the doorway as I struggle to regain my breath. "That is your
first lesson of the day. That collar is locked permanently. It is a
technological wonder invented by our mistress herself. It accomplishes two
tasks. While I played with your body last night, it identified the nerves and
synapses that react most intensely to sexual pleasure. It then replicates those
signals of sexual arousal and keeps sending low-level pulses through your body
24/7. Basically, It keeps your body artificially aroused and ready at all times.
The second job of the collar is to punish you when you are about to orgasm.
Reading your system, it knows the signals of your approaching orgasm, and will
counter those signals with false signals of excruciating pain. They only last a
couple of seconds and do no damage to you body. Fiendish, isn't it?"
I grab for the necklace and feel it, looking for a way to take it off.
"Don't even try. It won't come off unless Mistress wants it off. If you do well
over the next few weeks, it will come off. But for right now, it is an integral
part of your training," she says proudly.
"You will be living with us for now on. You will maintain your apartment on the
East Side for appearance sake, but you will be staying here most of the time.
Today and tomorrow I will teach you how to behave around our Mistress. We will
start training your mouth to bring hours of expert pleasure to Mistress' body.
You will be put on a rigid workout program to make you strong and fit. Believe
me, you will need it. Although you have large tits, eventually you will be
augmented from your small D cup to at least a full DD. We will ring your nipples
and clit.
Expect to be horny all of the time. You will be teased constantly to high
excitement levels without allowing you to cum, unless the Mistress authorizes
it. And that is an infrequent occasion, at best."
I panic and try to rip the necklace from my neck. Brenda touches a button on her
wristwatch and I am zapped again.
And so goes my training. I am taught the proper language of a tease toy.
Vaginas, breasts, penises are replaced with pussies, tits and cocks. For hours I
am painstakingly taught the techniques of proper pussy worship. I thought that
my tongue would fall off and my jaw almost locked in place. I am taken through a
3-hour workout that includes cardio, weights and yoga. I workout every morning
with Brenda. I am trained how to walk, kneel, talk and act while in the presence
of the Mistress.
And all the while, Brenda will tease my constantly erect and horny clit and
nipples, keeping me hovering near an orgasm without setting off that fucking
collar.
Each night, I am brought to Miss Locke so she can judge for herself my
improvement and Brenda's effectiveness. The first night, I am forced to kneel
with my legs spread painfully wide. Ankle cuffs are locked on and attached to
ropes that are attached to the walls and keep my feet pulled back and wide
apart. My wrists are cuffed together. I am helped back into lying position. My
arms pulled underneath my back. A rope is attached to my wrists and is pulled
between my legs to the wall that was in front of me. The rope is tightened until
my shoulders are painfully yanked underneath me and towards my knees. I am
forced to bow my back and stick my crotch and chest into the air.
Miss Locke proceeds to play with my large breasts. Tickling them, smacking them,
clamping the, tying the. She is fascinated with them. Occasionally she flicks my
clit, just to keep me on the edge. She then lowers her pants and exposes her
shaved pussy. She sits on my face, and despite my exhausted mouth, I use my new
training to bring her to hours of pleasure as she continues to play with my
body. I was screaming my frustration into her muff as my tired tongue and lips
kept working he r to orgasm after orgasm. How unfair. I do the work and she gets
the pleasure. II need release. I NEED TO CUM!!!
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It has been two months now and I have not had an orgasm since that first night.
The necklace was never taken off, but the punishment mode was disabled two weeks
ago. So throughout the day I am kept at a constant level of excitement. It is
tougher not to cum now that I know that I know the collar will not stop me.
Without fail, I am made to do something humiliating during the day. I have been
forced to suck the cock and get reamed in the ass by an important customer of
hers in a hotel room, just like a whore. I have had to sit under her desk and
lick her pussy through long meetings in her office. I have had to rub my exposed
pussy in some of the most embarrassing places. Do you have any idea how hard it
is to keep from moaning while you rub your pussy in church during a service? Or
how embarrassing it is to masturbate in the shower of a women's locker room
while others stare in horrid disbelief (Although one girl never left...I think
she was too turned on to leave). Or how mortifying it is to sit on a bench in
front of a Junior High School after the closing bell and rub your clit to the
very edge of an orgasm while young kids walk by and stare? From the bleachers a
Yankee Stadium to a carriage ride through Central Park, I have exposed my
throbbing, excited pussy to more people than live in some small towns.
Every evening, I participate in sexual activity with Miss Locke and her cruel
friends. Teasing and tormenting Brenda and me is their favorite sport. Brenda
was right; I have to be in the peek physical condition to survive their daily
torments. They especially enjoy using bondage and suspension in the most
vulnerable and uncomfortable positions. One of their favorite games is locking
my wrists together behind my back, and then locking my ankles to the ends of a
three-foot wide pole. I lie down and they hoist the pole until I am lifted off
the ground and my face is at crotch level. I then lick pussy and ass for hours
and hours while they play with my hole. They use fingers, feathers, and assorted
vibrators and sex toys to keep me moaning with urgent need. And they never, ever
let me cum.
Or they will strap Brenda and me in a 69 position and force us to lick each
other for hours while we are spanked with paddles and leather floggers. The
girls will play with each other and cry out in multiple orgasms while Brenda and
I keep each other on the edge of the abyss without teetering over.
Mistress has made it clear; I am not allowed to cum without her permission. If I
have an orgasm, she will pull her account immediately and I will lose millions
and millions of dollars in future commissions. If I tell anyone of our
arrangement, she will release the pictures of me licking underage cunt (I had
know idea they were underage when she had me beg these three girls, who were
sitting together in the mall, to allow me to lick them to orgasm), and the
picture of me taking a cock in my mouth and my cunt at the same time, as well as
sue me for breech of confidentiality.
I want to cum more than anything I have ever wanted. All day long, thoughts of
orgasm crowd my mind. The collar keeps my clit perpetually erect, and my nipples
are constantly poking tents into my blouses. I wear no panties and my bras are
only the 1/4 cup variety, leaving my charms naked under my still conservative
work attire.
Yet despite my need and the constant humiliation, I have never felt so sexual,
so wanted. so loved, in my entire life. I am always charged with sexual energy,
which creates an intimidating power when in the company of the more repressed. I
never dreamed that I would not only enjoy being a lesbian sex slave, but that I
would relish the extended teasing and arousal without the payoff of release.
Miss Locke has become quite friendly with my secretary. To up the ante, she has
told me that she is going to tell her our nasty little secret and invite her
into my Mistress' little reindeer games. Then I will have no rest what so ever.
I dab my leaky pussy with more tissues.
