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An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 01

By: turtle_writes



I have an interesting night planned for you. I want you to be nice and clean when we start. Strip and take a shower. I'll watch. When you're done, bring the toy bag out to the living room and wait for further instructions.

The words in the chat window were enough to make my heart start racing. I smiled at the round unwinking eye of the tiny camera clipped to my laptop. He was off somewhere in some anonymous hotel room in Los Angeles, and I could already imagine him loosening his clothes.

I rose from the couch and began unbuttoning my blouse, already feeling the excitement rising inside me. I let my hands wander over my body, caressing myself through the thin cotton of the blouse, before I slipped it off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I could feel his eyes on me like a physical thing through the unwavering gaze of the camera, as I unhooked the bra and slid my hands over my breasts, feeling my nipples harden.

Our relationship is built on a simple premise: he tells me what to do, and I do it. When we first met six years ago, I'd just come out of a long and vaguely dissatisfying relationship, perfect in every way save that I always had an undefined sense that I was missing something. When we met, it didn't take long to figure out what that was, and my life now looks nothing like my life then.

It's not really that simple, of course. Investment banker by day, sex slave by night... it's more complicated than it sounds. Especially when he accepted the promotion to field engineer,, a job that requires quite a lot of travel. During the past year we've developed a system for keeping our relationship going even over long distances. Part of that system is the network of tiny cameras and microphones in every room of the house, all connected to a server computer in the closet, running custom software he's written. When I turn on the cameras, he can see and hear everything in the house, and talk to me through a chat window. I can't see or hear him, partly because he likes to travel light and take only the smallest amount of computer gear with him that he can, but mostly because he likes the detachment of communicating with me through text.

I bent over, slipping off my shoes, then unhooked the skirt and let it fall. Naked, I caressed my body with my hands again, feeling myself beginning to get wet already. He likes when I wear skirts with nothing underneath; easier access, he says.

With a smile and wink over my shoulder to the camera in the corner near the ceiling, I walked into the bathroom, knowing his eyes would follow me. The camera in the bathroom is mounted just above the door, where it looks into the large glass-enclosed walk-in shower. I flipped on the water, letting it warm up while I went into the bedroom to pick up a prop; he'd been teasing me all day, sending me text messages on my phone to let me know that he had something very special lined up for me this evening, so I decided to return the favor by giving him a special show during my shower. He's always enjoyed watching me shower, and a little turnabout is fair play.

I walked back into the bathroom and stepped into the shower, letting the spray of water envelop me. A part of me wondered what the evening's entertainments would hold; when he's out of town, he loves watching me put on shows for him, and he tells me what to do to myself in front of the camera as he watches, but tonight he had something new up his sleeve, and my curiosity was only making me more excited.

I leaned back under the water, closing my eyes and shuddering slightly, and ran my fingers through my long black hair. Stepping out from under the showerhead, I poured a large dollop of shampoo into my hand and began lathering my hair, letting the thick sudsy lather run down my back. I turned toward the clear glass shower door, making sure the camera had a good view as I ran my soapy hands down over my body, fondling and caressing my breasts. I felt my nipples grow harder as I touched myself, soaping my breasts thoroughly.

I picked up the toy I'd brought into the shower with me from the other room—a long double-ended dildo. I slid one hand sensuously along the dildo, stroking it and soaping it up, then began sliding it between my lathered breasts. I leaned back against the wall of the shower, arching my back and sliding the dildo slowly up and down between my breasts, my eyes closed. Very gradually, I began increasing my tempo, running the long silicone toy faster and faster between my breasts as I slid my other hand over my body, fondling myself and pinching my nipples. 

I moaned, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up over the sound of the running water, then reached out and picked up my bottle of body wash. Holding the bottle high over my body, I squeezed it in a series of short, sharp motions. Jets of thick white body wash spurted over my body and the dildo; I cried out as they spattered over me. I continued squeezing the bottle, moaning each time the body wash splattered me, as I ran the dildo between my breasts.

Finally, I set down the bottle and looked at myself. My breasts and body were covered in thick lather from the shampoo, and my neck, shoulders, breasts, belly, and legs were splattered all over with creamy white body wash. I set down the soapy dildo and picked up a sponge, wetting it in the streaming water from the shower, and began washing myself. The sponge soon became very soapy as I scrubbed myself. I slid the sponge between my legs and squeezed, sending sudsy water coursing down my inner thighs as I pressed the slightly rough sponge against my clit. It didn't take long before I felt my orgasm beginning to build, my heart hammering wildly as the tension mounted. Picking up the soapy dildo, I plunged it into my desperate pussy, penetrating myself deeply; I screamed involuntarily, throwing my head back, then just as quickly withdrew it and dropped it to the shower floor.

One of the rules of our relationship is that I am not allowed to come without permission. I took my hands away and leaned against the wall, gasping, my body shuddering, my orgasm so close I could almost feel it; then, as the feelings subsided and my heart slowed, I stepped under the shower.. I was so desperately aroused I could barely stand, and found myself leaning on one arm against the shower as I rinsed myself off. I suspected that in some nameless hotel room half a continent away, Robert was almost as aroused himself.

Finally, I turned off the shower and stepped out, drying myself with a big, fluffy blue towel. I put on a gauzy, translucent robe, and went back into the bedroom. I picked up the box of toys from its place beneath the nightstand and went back out into the living room, where I seated myself on the couch in front of my laptop. "What did you think?" I asked, smiling at the tiny camera.

Very nice.

"I'm all nice and clean now," I said. "Did you enjoy the show?"

I don't think you're clean at all. I think you are a very, very dirty girl.

I flushed slightly. "I'm not dirty! I just took a shower!"

Some kinds of dirt can't be washed away. Are you wet between your legs?

I leaned back on the couch, letting the robe fall open as I spread my legs wide. I slid one finger into my mouth, parting my lips just enough to flick my tongue against it, then ran my fingertips very lightly down my body and over my breasts. I continued moving them down across my belly and over my mound, then slipped one finger inside myself, causing my breath to catch in my throat. "Yes," I gasped, feeling the juices pour around my finger.

You like being a dirty little slut, don't you? I bet you're pretty worked up right now.

I whimpered, eyes half-closed, running my finger in small circles inside myself.

Stop what you're doing. Stand up and take off your robe. Let me see you.

I whimpered as I slid my finger out, then rose from the couch. I ran my hands up my body, then slid the gossamer robe from my shoulders and let it fall.

Good girl. I want you to show off that body of yours. Get the oil and oil yourself up.

I reached down and opened the box at my feet and withdrew the small vial of massage oil. I poured the oil into my hands, and began caressing myself, oiling my arms and neck, then running my hands down my sides, smoothing the oil over the sides of my breasts. I lifted one leg onto the coffee table, giving the camera mounted to my computer a close up view of my pussy as I oiled my leg. I repeated the process with my other leg, stroking and caressing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as I oiled myself. I stepped back, my body glistening.

Very nice. You look positively delightful. Grab your breasts.

I slid my hands over my breasts, feeling my nipples harden again. "Mmm..."

Not like that. Now listen very carefully. From now on, your hands are my hands. When I tell you to touch yourself, I want you to picture my hands doing the touching, do you understand?

I nodded. "Yes..."

Good. Put some more oil in your hands. 

I picked up the oil and spread it over my hands, entranced, watching the message on the screen that told me he was still typing.

Now grab your breasts HARD! Your hands are my hands, and I intend to be rough with you this evening. You know the way I like to touch you. Do it! 

I grabbed my breasts and twisted them, harder than I had intended to. A cry escaped my lips, and I felt myself plummeting into that place where I became his, completely, and everything he did was bliss. My hands, unbidden, continued to squeeze and twist my breasts roughly; I felt my fingers—his fingers—bite down tightly on my nipples, and I cried out again. I felt them pull, stretching my nipples and clamping down still harder, until I gasped in pain.

Good girl. Sit down on the couch and spread your legs nice and wide. Keep squeezing your breasts with one hand. With the other, shove those fingers hard into that delicious little cunt of yours. 

I sat down , spreading my legs up over the arms of the couch as my hand twisted my breast sharply. My other hand slid between my legs, and two fingers penetrated me, fast and deep. My hands seemed possessed; I barely even recognized they were my own, as my fingers thrust roughly and insistently in and out of my dripping pussy while my hand squeezed hard on my breast. I lay my head back on the couch, eyes tightly closed, as the world shrank away and the only thing that was real were the hands on my body, groping and fondling and penetrating me. A series of short, sharp cries escaped my lips as the fingers thrust deep into me, violating me, and I felt the hot flush of an orgasm building between my legs. With every ounce of willpower and self-control I could muster, I pulled my hands away from my body. I heard myself scream as my fingers withdrew, leaving me feeling suddenly empty; I leaned back against the cushions, panting and gasping, my eyes half-closed and my body quivering.

Finally, after some timeless time, my breathing slowed and the world began to reappear around me. I opened my eyes and looked at the computer...

No, no, no. That won't do at all. You only have two fingers inside yourself.

Pick up the oil. Spread yourself open. Pour the oil over your cunt.

I'm waiting...

My fingers slid back between my legs, and I spread the lips of my pussy open. I picked up the vial of oil and poured it slowly in a thin stream over my lips. The sensation of the cool oil dripping over my exposed clit and sliding down between my legs made me shiver, and a small pool of oil formed on the leather cushion of the couch, oozing down between the cheeks of my ass. I heard myself moan softly, as if from a great distance.

Now get three fingers in there. 

I set down the small flask of oil and ran my fingertips lightly over my oily pussy. My other hand crept up with a mind of its own to my breast, and my fingers clamped down tightly on my painfully hard nipple as I slid three fingers inside me. I gasped and rocked my hips against my hand, driving the fingers deeper.

Spread yourself open. Angle your hips toward the camera. Let me see. 

I rocked my hips forward, pushing my fingers deeper still and spreading them apart, forcing myself open. A feeling of vulnerability and exposure washed over me as I spread myself intimately for him, the cold eye of the camera peering deep into me.

Mmmmmm. Very nice, but we're still missing something.

Take the small vibrator out of the bag. Get the ky out too. Lube up the vibrator. 

"Oh! Do you want me to.—"

Yes. 

I could feel my hands start to shake as I reached for the toy bag. I fumbled for a bit, then slowly withdrew the items; a small but powerful vibrator, a bit larger around than my thumb, and the tube of lube. I could still feel the oil squishing its way between my legs, and somehow I thought the KY would not really be necessary, but I knew better than to argue. My hands trembled as I squeezed a thick ribbon of lubricating jelly along the hard plastic vibrator. "Do I—"

Yes.

You know what to do. 

I spread my legs again, tilting my hips to give the camera atop the laptop a better view as I pressed the blunt end of the vibrator against the entrance to my ass.

Good girl. All at once. Say you're a slut when you push it in. 

My cheeks suddenly flamed. "But—"

Do it. Say it loud. Push it in. Say you're a slut. Now! 

I took a deep breath, then in one smooth motion, I slid the vibrator deep into my ass. "I'm a slut!" I cried. "Oh, God, I'm a slut!" I felt my anus close tightly around the invader. "I'm a dirty, filthy whore! Oh, my God!"

Turn it on. 

I whimpered. "No! I'll come!"

Turn it on. All the way. And don't you dare come. 

The small vibrator is one of my favorite toys, but it's a source of torment as well; with the vibrator buzzing deep in my ass, it's almost impossible for me not to come. He is fond of using it to torment me, refusing to allow me to orgasm while making me masturbate with it.

Turn it on. Now. 

I reached between my legs and turned the small knob on the base of the vibrator. It came to life instantly, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. "Oh, oh God," I moaned, struggling to keep control.

I have a surprise for you. I didn't tell you earlier. I gave the address of the server to a friend of mine. He's been watching you, too. All evening. 

"What??!" I suddenly sat bolt upright, my face flushing red. Embarrassment, shame, disbelief, and humiliation waged war inside me; I could feel the heat traveling up to my ears. And, buried deep down inside that shame...arousal? My pussy twitched, and I suddenly became aware of how hard my nipples were. "You wouldn't!"

I covered my breasts with one arm, reaching for the robe lying on the floor. I turned away from the camera, trying to cover myself, hide myself from its stare...

I would and I did.

Put the robe down. Take your arm away from your breasts. 

I slowly dropped the robe, my eyes averted from the camera's hostile glare,.

Take your arm away from your breasts. Do it now. 

My face flushed even hotter as I slowly did as I was told, still not looking at the camera. I could feel the insistent buzz of the vibrator buried deep in my ass, and my shame battled with arousal. "Who—"

No. I'm not going to tell you. Don't you worry about it. He can't see what I'm typing, but he can see and hear you. Now turn toward the camera and spread your legs. 

"No!" I said, my arms automatically covering my breasts with my arms again. "I can't."

Yes. You can. You will.

Open the toy bag. Take out the speculum. 

"You can't be serious!"

I am. That's what you get for saying "no" when I told you to turn toward the camera.

Are you going to say "no" again? 

I shook my head, silently, my eyes downcast. Reaching for the toy bag, still turned away from the camera and with one arm covering my breasts, I reached into the toy bag, trembling, and withdrew the heavy silver speculum that he likes to use on me from time to time. My heart thudded heavily; the idea that he would make me spread myself open like that with someone else watching mortified me. I tried to convince myself that he wouldn't really do that. Maybe he was bluffing; maybe there wasn't anyone else watching at all!

And yet... that thought didn't fill me with relief the way I expected it to. The idea that it was all a bluff—there was nobody else watching the cameras but him—actually triggered a stab of disappointment.

He'd teased me about it before, the idea of making me show off in front of other people, and the thought always filled me with dread, and...something else.

I suddenly became aware again of the vibrator buzzing in my anus, and without warning a dizzying wave of raw sexual arousal swept my body. I reached down automatically to touch myself, stopping suddenly with my hand halfway between my legs.

Jerking myself back to the real world, I snatched my hand away from my crotch and covered my breasts again. The chat window told me that he was composing a message, and my breath caught in my throat, waiting for him to tell me he'd made it up, it was a ruse to provoke a reaction out of me...

You are not doing what you are supposed to be doing. Put the speculum down on the couch next to you. Take your arm away from your breasts and sit facing the camera directly. Do not try to cover yourself. 

I shuddered again, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Turning toward the camera, my legs held tightly together, I slowly drew my arms away from my breasts. I could feel a strange pair of eyes on me, and I wondered what he was doing; was he aroused? Naked? Touching himself as he watched me?

I imagined him, sitting in a darkened room, watching me on his computer...watching me shower, watching as I ran my hands over my body, coveting me as I oiled myself up; I could picture him fantasizing about me as I masturbated, wanting me, hungering for me as I put on an obscene show for him. I began touching myself unconsciously, my hands squeezing and fondling my slippery breasts, and felt myself responding. The vibrator inside me worked its insistent magic, and I felt the familiar heat begin building within me.

I opened my eyes and looked at the screen.

Your hands are my hands. Remember? 

I nodded, lost in the feelings inside me.

Put your hands on your knees. Force your legs apart. Nice and wide. Expose yourself. Let us see you.

I slid my hands down my body and over my legs, sensuously, then gripped my knees tightly, the way I knew he would. I pictured my mystery admirer, imagined how desperate he was to see me open my legs for him, visualized him leaning toward the glowing screen, eyes lit up with excitement. In one sudden motion, I pushed my legs apart, spreading them wide for the camera, exposing my oiled pussy and the end of the vibrator buried deep in my ass. 

Grab the vibrator. Work it in and out. Fuck your ass. 

I gripped the end of the vibrator tightly in both hands and began thrusting it in long, hard, savage strokes, rocking my hips on the couch to receive each thrust. With every thrust, I cried out, arching my back with desperate pleasure. Deep down inside, I felt shame and humiliation forming, as I imagined the watcher's eyes greedily devouring the sight.

What are you? Say it! 

"I'm a slut! I'm a dirty, filthy anal slut! Oh, God, I'm a dirty little cock whore!" The shame and humiliation grew as the words spilled out of my lips, shame not only for what I was saying and doing in front of a stranger but also for the fact that I wanted it, that knowing he was watching turned me on, that I wanted to fuck myself in the ass until I came for him. I wanted him to see me in the throes of orgasm as I violated myself, wanted him to know what a slut I was. "God, I'm so dirty, I want to come, please let me come!"


An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 01



No.

Stop.

Take your hands away from your body.

Stop touching yourself. 

A long howl of frustration and desperation and need ripped out of me as I stopped fucking myself. I grabbed the arms of the couch, my fingers digging into the soft leather as I struggled to stop the orgasm, to calm down. My breathing came in ragged gasps as I lay there, Picturing him seeing me this way, oiled and sweaty and desperate with frantic, unreasoning arousal, almost sent me over the edge, and I dug my fingers harder into the sofa as the vibrator buzzed demonically, urging me on. I wanted to come so badly that for a moment, just for a moment, I considered giving in, and accepting whatever punishment I might receive for an unauthorized orgasm; then, slowly, I battled the feeling down, and finally felt it slip away from me.

Good. Good girl. Are you my slut? 

I nodded wordlessly, panting.

Say it!

"I'm your slut! I'm your obedient little fuck toy!" The words came surprisingly easily, much more easily than they normally do. He loves making me talk dirty, loves hearing me call myself all kinds of filthy names; and it excites me too, even though it's usually very difficult for me to do.

Yes, you are. Keep your legs apart. Take a dildo out of the toy bag. Put it down on the couch next to the speculum.

I reached into the toy bag and withdrew a large black dildo, deeply textured and veined, with a wide head. I set it on the couch next to the gynecological tool, my body still screaming its need.

I want to see how wet you are. Pick up the speculum. Push it deep inside you. Spread that dripping cunt wide open.

I felt myself turn red, barely choking back the "No!" even as my hands found the cold metal instrument. I felt torn, struggling to stop myself from protesting as I watched my hands turn the speculum over and, as if in a dream, watched them shove it deep into my throbbing pussy. I heard myself scream as the cold, hard metal violated me, felt myself gasp and moan as my hands worked the lever, stretching me cruelly open, but I somehow felt detached from it too, as though the shock and discomfort were coming through a dream. The vibrator still in my ass made the metal speculum vibrate, sending ripples and shockwaves through my body. I wondered if the man watching me had ever seen a woman so exposed, had ever looked so deeply and intimately into her sex.

Look at you! You have creamy white juices just dripping out of you. I've been recording this evening's activities on my hard drive; I can hardly wait to watch it with you.

Instantly, the shame rose in me again, at the thought of watching myself so aroused by my responses to the unknown observer. I shrunk away from the camera, partly covering my breasts with my hands, my legs still spread.

Don't cover yourself!

We're not even close to being finished yet.

You still have more of a show to put on. Pick up the dildo.

I did as I was bidden, grabbing the center of the thick silicone dildo with both hands.

That's better.

Bring it up to your lips. Kiss the head.

Leave your legs spread. You're going to show him what a skilled oral slut you are, too. He's seen what you can do with your cunt and your ass. I want him to see what you can do with your mouth. 

I started to speak, even as my hands rose automatically, bringing the thick head of the dildo to my mouth; what came out was a surprised and muffled squeak. An image of the watcher masturbating as he fantasized about bringing his cock to my mouth flashed through my mind, and I felt my body respond, my pussy twitching against the hard metal probes of the vibrating speculum. I felt an instant's confusion, believing for a brief millisecond that it was the head of his cock, and not a fake silicone penis, pressing against my lips.

Kiss it. Run your tongue around it. Make him want you. 

I closed my eyes and parted my lips, bringing the head of the dildo partway into my mouth as I kissed it sensuously. My tongue rolled over the head of the dildo, slowly, as I pictured myself bringing a warm, soft penis into my mouth.

Without warning or conscious thought, my hands twitched upward, pushing the dildo deeply into my mouth. A surprised moan, muffled by the dildo, escaped me. My eyes flew open, halfway expecting to see someone else there in the room, pushing the dildo into my mouth, but I was alone.

Greedy girl! Look at that hungry mouth. You want it pretty bad, don't you? Suck that dildo. Show him how you like to suck cock. 

I slid the dildo out of my mouth, very slowly, swirling my tongue around the head of the dildo as it slipped out from between my lips. Leaning back on the couch, I slid it into my mouth again, still very slowly. My hand caressed the dildo, sliding sensuously up and down along the shaft as I drew the dildo deep into my mouth. My eyes closed again as I teased the dildo. Moving my mouth in long, slow strokes up and down.

I pictured the man standing in front of me, imagined myself on my knees, taking his cock into my mouth, running my tongue along the underside of his erect penis. I drew the dildo out of my mouth again, caressing the head with my tongue as I imagined myself teasing him, driving him insane with lust.

I felt my hips begin to move, thrusting slowly up and down, pressing the vibrator deeper and feeling the metal instrument stretching me open vibrate in turn. I moaned around the dildo, imagining myself taking his cock all the way into my mouth, feeling it at the back of my throat as I pressed the dildo deeper. I wanted to make him frantic; I wanted to make him as desperate and needy as I was, teasing him, bringing him to the edge, denying him release, over and over again until he grabbed my hair and thrust his cock harshly into my mouth. I wanted him to explode, coming deep in my mouth, gushing over and over again until it spilled from my lips and dripped down to my breasts. I wanted him to call me names, say dirty things to me as his come filled my mouth. I wanted...

I became aware that an orgasm was building rapidly, that I was moaning nonstop as I rammed the dildo into my mouth again and again, my hips bucking against the couch. I pulled the dildo from my mouth and screamed, grabbing my breasts tightly with my hands, my fingers digging in hard, twisting them, hoping the pain would help me focus on not coming. My eyes squeezed shut and the dildo fell neglected to the couch as I struggled against the orgasm, feeling my pussy beginning to contract painfully around the speculum forcing it open.

Finally, the feeling peaked and ebbed, leaving me shaking and gasping, so close to orgasm that in that instant I felt I would give anything, absolutely anything, just to be allowed to com. My eyes snapped open, and I looked blearily at the computer screen, barely able to focus.

Stop.

Take the speculum and the vibrator out. 

I reached down and pulled the instrument out of my pussy, not bothering to close it first; I shrieked as the metal paddles slipped out. I pulled the vibrator out in one smooth motion, gasping again, and turned it off. I collapsed against the back of the sofa, panting hard, feeling achingly empty.

Now listen to me very closely. I am about to give you some instructions. I expect you to obey these instructions to the letter. Do you understand? 

I nodded weakly, unable to speak.

Good. First, I want you to shut down the server. Stop the video feeds, and set the camera in the living room and the camera on your laptop to record to disk instead.

In exactly three and one-half minutes, there will be a knock at the door. You will cross over to the door and open it wide. Do not get dressed. Do not attempt to cover or hide yourself in any way.

A man will be there. Let him in. You will do whatever he tells you. You will let him do whatever he pleases to you. The cameras will record the entire thing. I will not be watching. You and he will be alone. 

"What??!!" I sat bolt upright. Fear, shame, and humiliation swept over me in a wave, and I felt my nipples harden again.

When I come home, I will watch the recording you have made. I will expect to see you give your body to him completely.

After he is finished with you and he has left, turn the video feeds back on and let me see you. I will be waiting. 

The chat program flashed a message to tell me he had signed off. I sat on the couch trembling, fear and lust and need battling within me. Slowly, I reached out to the computer and did as I had been instructed, shutting down the video feeds and setting the cameras to record to disk. Then, shaking, I waited.



An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 02



The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of my life. I sat naked and alone on the couch, my entire body trembling. Surely he wouldn't really do this, I thought; nobody was going to knock on the door. The time would pass, and there would be no knock on the door, and he'd log back on to the chat server and tease me about how worked up he'd made me, right? And why did he tell me to shut down the cam server? If he were really to make me give my body to another man, he'd want to watch, right?

He was bluffing. That was it. That should have filled me with relief; he wasn't going to go through with it, there was no mystery man; and yet...

And yet a part of me hoped there was. A part of me was desperate to hear that knock. I wanted to fling it open. I wanted to give myself to whoever came through, wanted to serve him, on my back and on my knees, wanted to feel that hard and demanding and uncaring cock. I wanted his hands on my body, roughly, pushing me down... I wanted to be his fuck toy, I wanted him to use every part of my body for his own pleasure, and the thought that it might actually happened horrified me and aroused me.

We'd talked about it, Robert and I, a long time ago. I'd confided in him, opened myself up o him, let him see the hidden places in me; I'd described my fantasies of anonymous sex, of giving myself to him so completely that he could give me to another. He'd been, I think, surprised, just as he had the first day I'd shown him the secret places in me that wanted to be dominated, craved the feeling of being owned and controlled...

But it wouldn't happen. 

The cameras silently recorded the room. I felt my heart hammer, felt the wetness drip from my abused pussy, felt the longing and shame inside me. I wanted it so badly, and hated that I wanted it, and I wanted him to use me anyway; I wanted him to see the shame and the humiliation, and not to care, and...

Three raps on the door, in quick succession. My heart leaped into my throat. I froze for a moment on the couch, looking around wildly, half expecting to see that Robert had logged back on and was reassuring me that everything was all right.

Three more knocks. 

A jolt of adrenaline shocked me into motion. I rose on unsteady legs, fear making my heart threaten to explode from my chest. I fumbled at the lock on the door, my hands shaking so badly I could barely turn it.

Another three knocks, startling me. I yelped involuntarily, my hand frozen on the doorknob, then took a deep breath and closed my eyes, struggling to fight down the fear.

Maybe it was Robert! That might explain it. He'd come home three days early, and was surprising me! That's what this was all about!

I took another deep breath, steadying myself against the door for a moment, then stepped back and flung the door wide, light streaming around me into the darkness outside. "Ro-"

I froze. The man standing on the doorstep looked me up and down, naked lust and avarice glittering in his eyes. Not Robert; slightly shorter, slightly older, slightly balding, a little bit pudgy,...

...and I recognized him.

"Jason?"

I felt suddenly, overwhelmingly self-conscious. I became aware that I was standing, naked and glistening, in front of my wide-open door, became aware that my eyes had stopped at his crotch, at the obvious bulge in his jeans...

He was wearing a faded black T-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans. He was a friend of Robert's from some years back, the brother of his old college roommate or something like that. I'd met him briefly a couple of times; he'd been over for drinks a couple years ago, and at a cookout Robert had hosted some time before that. I'd barely even noticed him, scarcely remembering him once he'd left. And now I was standing in front of him, naked and vulnerable, after he'd seen me masturbating.

"Aren't you going to invite me in, Jackie?"

"Um, uh, yes, that is..." I stammered, suddenly thrown off-balance. "Um, come, come in..."

He walked through the door and grabbed me roughly, one arm around me, pinning my body against his while his lips mashed against mine. I felt his tongue enter my mouth roughly as his other hand found my breast, groping and squeezing. 

I squirmed for a moment, trying to pull away from him. The fantasy of giving myself to another man was one thing; now that he was here, groping me, shoving his tongue in my mouth, it seemed very different. For a moment I wanted to push him away, cover myself up...

He released me, so suddenly I almost fell, and turned, closing the door. I put my arm over my breasts, and tried to cover my crotch with my other hand. He faced me again, his eyes on my body so heavily I shrank back from him.

"You know," he said casually, "you are a very beautiful woman, Jackie. I've been attracted to you for a long time. I've fantasized about you, in fact. But I had no idea you were so kinky!" He took half a step toward me, and I shrank back further.

"My understanding is that you have to do anything I tell you to," he said, a tiny smile playing on his lips. "To be honest with you, this is all new to me. I've never done anything like this before."He reached out and took me by the wrist, drawing my arm away from my breasts. "I'm almost not quite sure what I should do with you."

"You...you don't have..." I stammered, staring at the floor. "You don't have to do this..."

He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "You're right. I don't have to do this." He drew my arm farther away, His other hand found my chin, and he brought my head up, forcing me to look directly into his eyes. "I don't have to do this. I want to do this. You, on the other hand, have to do this." He stepped closer still, bringing his arm around me, pinning my wrist behind my back. "You have to do this," he repeated, murmuring quietly in my ear.

He held me pinned against him, his lips barely grazing my ear, and stroked my hair lightly. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms as he stroked my neck gently, and I shuddered slightly, my eyes half closed. He released my wrist, and ran his fingertips lightly up my arm; I moaned very softly.

Without warning, he grabbed my hair and pulled, hard, forcing my head back. I screamed; the sound was cut off as his mouth closed over mine, his tongue thrusting insistently between my lips. Instantly, I was in another place. Reason vanished; I wanted to give myself completely to him, let him do anything to me, work his will on my body in any way he chose...

I felt myself grind my hips against him, and felt the sudden wetness dripping from between my legs, running down my thighs. The scream turned to a muffled moan as I closed my eyes and returned his kiss. My arms slid around him, my eyes closed as I pressed my body against his. I wanted him to use me, to push me down and take me roughly, to pleasure himself with my body, using me for his own masturbatory delight, hard and uncaring...

"No!" some small part of myself silently screamed. I'd never gone to that place with anyone but Robert. I wanted to stop him, to push him away, to scream "How dare you!" to him-this man who'd watched me without my knowledge, who'd come in through the front door believing I would give my body to him. That tiny, secret part of me withdrew from myself, and watched as if from outside my body in horror as I moaned against his tongue. He kept pulling my hair as his other hand slid between my legs; my knees buckled and I felt a wave of raw animal pleasure wash over my body as his blunt fingers forced their way roughly into me. I made a gutteral noise in the back of my throat; the small part of me that still knew reason raged in silent fury at myself as I spread my legs wider for him, allowing easier access.

And then his fingers were thrusting inside me, and his tongue was thrusting in and out of my mouth in the same rhythm, and that small part of me that still knew to object went somewhere else. I felt my legs open further, inviting him in more deeply; I felt my arms slide around him, felt my body press against him, heard myself moan as his fingers tightened in my hair...

...and just like that, his mouth was gone, his fingers slipped out of me, and he had released me. I stared at him, panting, struggling to control myself as waves of conflicting emotions washed over me. I felt naked, exposed, vulnerable, ashamed...and beneath it all, frighteningly, desperately aroused. My need was obvious to him; it had to be. He could see how hard my nipples were, could see the creamy juices running down my legs; knowing that he knew made my arousal that much more desperate.

He brought his fingertips up to my lips, brushing them very lightly; without hesitation, I took them into my mouth, and closed my eyes as I drew them in. My hands found his; I closed my hands around his hand and held it still as I moved my head, swirling my tongue around his fingers.

His eyes flicked back for a moment, and a rush of euphoria rose in me. Seeing him respond made me feel intensely desired, and the thought of giving myself totally to him suddenly became almost intoxicating. I opened my mouth, smiling at him as I guided his hand deeper, until I could feel his fingertips at the back of my throat. I wrapped my lips tightly around his fingers, kissing his knuckles, and drew his fingers slowly from my mouth.

"Mmm," he said, watching me through half-closed eyes. "Seriously, I wasn't sure that I would know what to do with you. You know, there's even a part of me that thought I might chicken out at the last minute." He drew his hand away from me, then caressed my cheek gently. "But watching your show on the cameras gave me some ideas." Without warning, his hand was curled in my hair again, pulling hard, forcing my head back, making me cry out. "Kneel," he said, his voice harder.

I sank to my knees in front of him. His hand stayed with me, his fingers still curled in my hair. Without hesitation, my hands went to the bulge in his jeans, straining at the denim, and as I caressed and stroked him through the material, I felt a small spot of wetness seeping through the fabric.

Without thought or hesitation, my fingers found the button on the waist of his jeans, and I pulled it open, and yanked down the zipper eagerly. His erect cock sprang out, smacking me on the face, and I realized with surprise that he wasn't wearing any underwear. His cock, hard and very thick, rolled wetly off the side of my face, and a momentary flash of shame blazed over me. From somewhere far away, the reasoning part of me reasserted itself, and I leaned back on my heels, looking up at him.

He pulled my hair sharply, bringing my face closer to him, and turned his hips, slapping my cheek with his erect cock. A glistening drop of warm wetness fell from the head of his penis, splattering on my leg. He brought the head up to my lips. "Open," he said, his voice still hard.

Another flash of humiliation. I froze, my heart hammering, and didn't respond. No way, that small voice said, this isn't a fantasy any more, this is too real, I don't want to do this, I am not taking this man's cock in my mouth! I barely know him! I felt hot; beads of sweat formed on my body and rolled down my oiled skin. What the hell is wrong with you, on your knees in front of this man...

His erection remained motionless, pressed lightly against my lips. His fingers curled tighter in my hair, and he began pulling harder, increasing the pressure very slowly until I cried out in pain. I looked up at him from beneath my bangs. He looked down at me with eyes filled with hunger and greed and pure sexual desire...

...and in that moment, I knew he'd won.

I knew that look, very well-that expression of pride and possession and raw carnality. Jason lacked Robert's presence, Robert's easy and natural authority, his commanding aura of control, but that look...that look of hungry, confident lust was the same. And I could not stop what it did to me.

My lips parted and I opened my mouth for him, sending that still small protesting voice somewhere far away. Moving with studied deliberation, he placed his hands on the sides of my head, holding me tightly; then, very slowly, he pushed my head down onto his erect cock, sliding it slowly into my mouth, deeper and deeper, until I felt it against the back of my throat and my nose pressed against his pubic hairs. "Suck," he said.

His cock felt strange in my mouth, slightly shorter but significantly thicker than Robert's. I began moving my head slowly, running my tongue along the soft underside of his shaft as I slid it almost completely out of my mouth. My tongue swirled in circles over the head of his cock, drawing a shuddering moan from him, before I took it deeply into my mouth again. His breathing became ragged as I worked his cock slowly, sliding it in and out of my mouth in long, lazy strokes as my tongue danced over it. Unconsciously, my hands slid between my legs, and I began rocking my hips against them as my fingers slid over my clit.

I felt wetness pour over my fingers, and I closed my eyes again, moaning around his cock as I slid my fingers slowly into my dripping sex. I took his rigid penis deeply into my mouth again, very slowly, letting my tongue play over the soft skin as it sank into my hungry mouth. I held him there for a long moment, his cock filling my mouth and my fingers deep inside myself; then, slowly at first, I began sucking him in earnest, sliding my fingers in and out of my dripping pussy in time with the bobbing of my head.

His breath sharpened as I increased my pace. I closed my eyes and began sucking in earnest, my head bobbing more and more quickly. I rocked my hips against my hands, my fingers dancing over my engorged clit, as I grew increasingly aroused by the feel of the strange penis in my mouth. I moaned around his cock again as I plunged my fingers over and over into my dripping pussy, and felt his cock stiffen in response. I drew it deeper, knowing his orgasm was close, longing to feel his warm thick come spurting against the back of my throat as I brought myself to orgasm...

"No!" he said, pulling my head away from him. His penis made a wet sucking sound as it slipped out of my mouth. He took a step away from me, and I froze again, my fingers buried inside myself, looking up at him. His face was flushed, and I could tell he had interrupted me as he was just on the edge of orgasm. Disappointment and shame battled in me, disappointment because I was so close to feeling the warm, delicious spurt in my mouth, shame because I wanted it so badly.

"No, I'm not going to come in your mouth," he said. "I have a better idea. Stand up." He reached down, offering me his hand, then pulled me to my feet. "Lie down on the couch on your back."

Without a word, I did as I was told, first setting the speculum and the dildo I'd used earlier on the coffee table, then lying on my back on the leather couch. I spread my legs widely, expecting him to mount me, to push his cock into me, but instead he kneeled over me. "I got this idea from watching your performance in the shower," he said. "Your little show nearly made me come." He straddled my body, pressing his erection between my breasts. "And since your body is all oiled up, that makes things that much easier."

He began rocking his hips, sliding his cock between my oiled-up breasts. "Press your breasts together," he said. I whimpered, arching my back and moving my hips in need, my pussy burning and ignored, as I pressed my breasts together. He moaned, his eyes rolling back, as he moved more quickly, his penis sliding in the cleavage between my breasts.

It didn't take long. I felt his body tense as I pressed my breasts around his cock, and he threw back his head and screamed as it began gushing wildly. The first spurt arced up over my chin and left a streak of wetness across my face; the next spurts hit my chin, gushed between my breasts, and spattered over my shoulder. He sat upright and took his cock in his hand, still moaning and gasping as he stroked himself and continued to come. Gush after gush sprayed over my body, covering my breasts and belly in warm, thick goo.

Finally, it was over. His moans subsided as he stopped stroking his cock, and he stood up, dragging his limp, wet penis over my breast and across the side of my face. "Whew!" he said, breathing hard.

I lay on the couch, my arousal at a fever pitch, feeling the puddles of warm wetness between my breasts. The come that had splattered my chin began dripping down my neck and running over my shoulder, and I could feel more come trickling down the sides of my breasts. I felt my hips moving of their own accord, pressing into the leather, and felt my own wetness pooling beneath me. "You look like quite a mess," he said. "You should see all the come all over you! I don't think I've ever come that much in my life." He smiled. "Does it feel good?"

I didn't reply, lying still on the couch, my pussy still aching with need. He smiled wider. "Is this the computer you were using for those wonderful closeup shots?" he asked, turning the laptop toward me and moving the lid slightly so that the small round camera stared directly at me. "Is Rob watching right now? Do you think he likes what he sees?"

"No...no," I responded, my voice sounding hoarse and distant in my ears. "He's not watching right now. It's..." I felt myself flush. "It's recording right now."

"So we're making a movie, are we? Well, then, let's have some fun!" he said. "Put your hands on those gooey, come-covered breasts. Touch yourself."

I brought my hands reluctantly to my breasts, touching my nipples with my fingertips, spreading some of the come gingerly around my nipples. 

"Not like that," he said. "Grab your tits like you did before. Run your hands all over your body. Smear my come all over you."

I folded my hands over my breasts, grimacing as the gooey come oozed between my fingers. I began caressing my body, running my hands over my breasts and belly, the warm come slippery on my oiled skin. Jason licked his lips as he watched me intently, with the hunger back in his eyes. "That's it, touch yourself. Feels good, doesn't it?"

And the truth was, it did feel good. The come made my skin very slippery, and my hands slid easily over my body, spreading the creamy warm goo. One wet hand slipped between my legs, and I ran my dripping, come-slicked fingers over my clit. I heard myself moan softly. From somewhere a very long way away, the voice in my head was screaming, What are you doing? You let him come all over you, and now you're rubbing yourself like you're a whore in heat...

"You like this, don't you?" he asked as I spread myself open and slid one finger inside my dripping hole. "You like being drenched in my come, don't you? Do you know how dirty you are?"

I felt myself respond to his words, felt the muscles in my vagina twitch and squeeze my finger. I moaned again, involuntarily, and began moving my fingers faster, thrusting my hips against my hand. My other hand squeezed my breast very tightly, and I felt the thick wet spunk under my fingers. "Oh, God, tell me!" I begged. "Tell me how dirty I am!"

The small part of my mind that could still think and reason reacted instantly with stunned horror A wave of shame and embarrassment swept over me, and I felt my nipple pressing into my hand and a sudden gush of wetness flow from my pussy. I closed my eyes and arched my back, driving three fingers into myself as deeply as I could. "Tell me, please!"

He laughed. "You already know how dirty you are," he said. "Just look at you, soaked with come and fucking yourself. This gets you off, doesn't it? You love sucking cock and smearing come all over your body. You're a filthy, cocksucking whore, and you love it. You are the dirtiest comeslut I have ever seen, lying here with your legs open, begging for it." My breath came in a series of moans as my fingers worked frantically. I felt the long-delayed orgasm rising swiftly and I arched my back; the room around me, the couch beneath me faded away, until all that was left was the feel of my hands on my body and the sound of his voice. "You're going to come, aren't you, you dirty little whore? Do it! Make yourself come! Show me how filthy you are!"




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 02



With that, the orgasm that had been denied all night could not be denied any more. I threw my head back and screamed as the pleasure wracked my body, stunning in its ferocity. It went on and on and on, possessing me like a living thing, and I heard myself screaming. "I'm a slut!" I screamed, "I'm a filthy, comesoaked whore!" My pussy spasmed tightly around my fingers, contracting so powerfully it was almost painful. "Oh God ohgodohgodohgod!"

Finally, the orgasm subsided, and I felt myself collapsing back onto the couch. I felt myself beginning to drift, one hand still resting on my breast, my fingers still inside my dripping pussy. A pool of warm liquid seeped down my ass, the only clear sensation in a world of hazy gray. Time seemed to slip away, and I drifted silently in the void...

...and then I heard an electronic beep and saw a flash of light through my closed eyes. They flew open in surprise, and I saw Jason standing at the foot of the couch with a small digital camera in his hands. "Hold still, I want to get a few more!" he said, and fired the camera shutter again.

A white-hot, burning shame overwhelmed me. I snatched my fingers out of myself and felt very vulnerable as I wrapped my arms tightly around my body, trying to hide my nakedness from him. "No!" I said, my voice sounding thin. "You're done with me! Just...just..."

"Go away? I don't think so. After watching what you just did, I'm not done with you." He set the camera down next to my computer and walked toward me, and I saw that he was aroused again, his thick cock fully erect. "Turn over," he said. "Get on your hands and knees. I'm going to fuck you now."

"No!" I said wildly. "I can't-I don't want-"

"I don't care," he said. He glanced over at the coffee table, nodding toward my laptop. "You said the cameras are recording, right? So you're making a movie of everything I do to you? Is Rob going to watch it?"

I nodded weakly. "Well, then," he said, "it's my understanding-correct me if I'm wrong here-that you have a relationship where you have to do anything Rob tells you to. Is that right?"

I nodded again, silent.

"And Rob told you this evening to do whatever I say, right? I say turn over and get on your hands and knees. I'm going to take you from behind."

I complied, defeated. My body felt heavy as I rolled over onto my side and knelt on hands and knees on the couch, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Without another word, he knelt on the couch behind me. I felt his hands grip my waist tightly; then, sudden fire within me as he thrust his cock deeply into me with no warning.

I screamed and lunged forward, trying to escape him. He pulled me back, hard, burying his cock in me again, and took me that way, letting me move forward away from him, then pulling me back. I heard him moaning and felt his erection stiffen as he fucked me with brutal intensity, and knew he was about to come inside me...

...when suddenly his hands were off my waist, and he didn't pull me back, and I lunged away from him, his cock withdrawing from me completely. He reached out and grabbed my hair tightly, pulling my head backward and keeping me from leaving the couch. "I'm not going to come in you," he hissed. "Watching you earlier this evening gave me a better idea for that, too." He reached between his legs, taking his erection in his hand, and pressed the head of his cock between the cheeks of my ass. My heart raced as I knew precisely what he intended to do, that no part of my body was off-limits from his hungers. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled my hair savagely as his cock pressed into my slippery ass. I screamed, in horror and shame and ecstasy, as his cock invaded me; instantly, my body was on fire, responding to him on its own.

He took me hard, without mercy, his cock violating me ruthlessly. Then, something unexpected happened. Without warning, without the tingling buildup that normally tells me what's happening, I came-a brutal, savage orgasm, an explosion of overwhelming intensity within me; I screamed and pushed myself backward onto him, driving him deeper. I could feel him come, his cock twitching and waves of warmth spurting into me, but it felt distant, unreal, like something from a dim and ancient memory.

Then we were done, and he withdrew from me wordlessly. I collapsed onto my side on the couch, panting, my eyes closed; somewhere far away, I heard him gathering up his clothes, heard him dressing, heard the door open and close. I remained motionless on the couch, feeling the warm come beginning to leak from my ass, unable to move.

Finally, after many long minutes, life returned and I stirred and rolled over. I opened my eyes, and stared into the unfeeling gaze of the camera on my laptop. I sat bolt upright, remembering there was more I had to do.

I turned the screen toward me and logged on to the server in the closet, restarting the video feeds. I didn't have to wait very long; within moments, the chat client told me Robert had logged back on.

I take it he is finished with you. You are quite a mess. Is that come on your face? 

I touched my cheek involuntarily, my face turning red. "Yes..."

Did you suck him off? 

"No," I replied, "he..he wouldn't let me. He came all over me instead."

How do you feel? 

"Dirty!" The word was an explosion of humiliation.

You should. Did he fuck you? 

I nodded soundlessly.

I want you to really understand how dirty you are. I want you to feel it all night long tonight. I want you to be reminded of it the instant you wake up tomorrow morning. I want it to be with you all night. 

My face flushed again, and a part of me wanted to crawl away. The words that excite me when I'm aroused feel very different after I come, and he knows it; he loves tormenting me ruthlessly with it.

He could read me from my reaction, I was sure. He could tell I'd had an orgasm,; he knew that the things that had been done to me had gotten me off.

You are not going to shower tonight before you go to bed. You are going to go to bed exactly as you are right now. When you wake up tomorrow morning, you will be able to feel the dried come on your face and body, and you'll know what a filthy comeslut you were this evening. 

"But I-"

I'm not finished.

When you go to bed, you will also bring the toy bag with you. Every orifice on your body where you took his cock, you will sleep with something penetrating you. You will feel them inside you and think about his cock in you. When you wake up, you will be reminded of how you had another man's penis in you. 

"No! I can't!"

Why not? Where did he penetrate you? 

"Everywhere!" I wailed.

Everywhere? Where did he put his cock? Tell me. 

"Everywhere! In my mouth, m-my pussy..."

You mean your cunt.

I nodded.

Say it. 

"In my c-cunt," I said, tripping over the word. My ears and face burned.

Where else? 

"In my ass."

Well, then. Here's what you will do.

Go into the bedroom. Take out the penis gag, a dildo, and an ass plug. You will put these things inside yourself, in the order in which you took his cock. I will watch. You will sleep that way. You may not remove them until tomorrow morning when you get up.

You may not orgasm. Not even in your sleep. If you do, you will send me an sms message on my cell phone tomorrow morning, and I will decide how to respond. Do you understand?

I nodded silently, eyes downcast.

Good. Bring your computer into the bedroom with you as well. Check your email when you wake up, before you do anything else. I may have further instructions waiting for you tomorrow morning. 

Silently, I gathered up the toys and the robe, placing them in the toy bag. I carried it and my computer into the bedroom, setting htem down on the nightstand. I wanted nothing more than to shower, to scrub the filth off my body, and curl up in a warm bed between clean sheets, but he would not let it happen. Instead, I had to wallow in the filth, celebrate it, remind myself of it...

...and yet, this was the choice I'd made. This is what I'd wanted. I had introduced him to the idea of this kind of relationship, years ago, when I'd told him how I wanted to give myself to him, how I wanted to be owned by him...

I reached into the toybag, taking out the penis-shaped gag, the short rubber dildo with a strap that he sometimes makes me wear strapped inside me when we go out in public, a smallish butt plug with a widely flared bulb. I set each down on the bed, I felt tears well unexpectedly in my eyes as I thought about what I was about to do, thought about the way I had given myself to Jason.

I picked up the penis-shaped gag first, placing it in my mouth and strapping it behind my head. The dildo was next; I lifted one foot onto the bed and reached between my legs, sliding it into my still-dripping pussy. Then I picked up the silicone plug, turning it over in my hands before reaching down between my legs.

I felt something warm-come, perhaps, mixed with oil and lubricating jelly-squishing out around the plug as I pressed it in. I moaned around the gag in my mouth as the wide plug slid inside me and my ass closed tightly around it. I buckled the strap from the dildo around my waist, so that it held both toys firmly in place.

I glanced over at the computer.

Sweet dreams. 

I felt suddenly peaceful, warm and safe under his watchful eyes as I slid into bed and pulled the covers over me.

I was asleep almost immediately, despite the objects pressing into me. I felt myself sliding into a dream, hazy and indistinct; I was in my office, faceless men crowding around me,. I felt straps on my arms and legs, holding me bent over my desk; felt unseen hands pull my clothing away from me, felt demanding cocks pushing insistently into me, felt myself coming over and over, as through far away, each orgasm a flash of heat lightning on the horizon. And then, nothing, as I slipped into a place far away from dreams.



An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 03



I drifted slowly into the waking world, dim memories of erotic dreams drifting away like tattered cobwebs. I hovered for a long time on the border between sleep and wakefulness, lightning flashes through my mind of pornographic images. Me on a table, strapped down in the center of a white room, men in white gowns and strange masks gathered around me, shoving metal probes into me, photographing my responses. Me as a captive, dressed in ceremonial robes, bound on all fours in the middle of the village square while a circle of men crowded around me, raping me, shoving hard cocks into every part of me, under the watchful eyes of the tribal elders. Other images, each so real I thought I could feel what was being done to me.

My eyes opened slowly, the slate gray light filtering through the bedroom curtains telling me it was early yet, the sun not quite up in the sky. I felt something in my mouth, and stirred...

...and instantly came wide awake, as I felt the dildo buried deep between my legs, the dull ache of the plug in my ass. Memories of the night before came pouring over me. I remembered masturbating in front of the webcam, remembered Robert telling me someone else was watching me; remembered what happened after, when the watcher came into the house and I gave my body to him. More images: his erect cock in my mouth; his come gushing over my body; the filthy things he said as I spread his gooey jism all over me; my orgasm as he called me dirty names, my second orgasm as his cock spurted deep in my ass.

My hands flew to my breasts. It hadn't been a dream; dried come clung to my breasts, my belly, my neck, my thighs, my face; matted my hair. I sat up in the bed, drawing the sheet around me, and reached up to unbuckle the strap holding the penis-shaped gag in my mouth. Then I froze suddenly, remembering Robert's instructions. "Check your email when you wake up, before you do anything else. I may have further instructions waiting for you tomorrow morning."

I glanced up at the camera in the corner, and looked over at the round camera eye clipped to my laptop on the nightstand beside me. It was possible he was watching right now, waiting to see if I would do as he'd instructed. The server was still running; the cameras throughout the house were still broadcasting to anyone who knew the address and had the proper password. He could easily be watching me...

...and so could Jason.

I shivered. A tiny whimper escaped around the gag. Jason knew the password; he had free access to the server; he could easily be watching, his eyes coveting me as I sat naked in bed, penetrated, still covered in the dry crusty remnants of his come. The knowledge made me flush with embarrassment; I felt very naked, exposed and vulnerable, and beneath it, the tiniest spark of arousal. I wanted him to want me, wanted him to be consumed by lust when he saw me, wanted him to look at me the way he had last night, when I was kneeling in front of him.

I turned toward the nightstand and drew the laptop toward me. The sheet fell away as I reached for the computer, giving the round camera eye a view of my exposed breasts. I wondered if either of them could see the dried come on my breasts as I loaded my email client and checked my mail.

One message from Robert, with a file attachment. My fingers trembled as I opened it.

Subject: slut

I trust that as you read this, your mouth, cunt, and anus are still filled. I have attached a picture to this email which I want you to look at. If it turns you on, you must masturbate to orgasm before you may remove the items which are penetrating you and get ready for work. You must also shave your cunt when you shower.

Jason sends his regards.

My eyes widened as the picture loaded. The image was of me, a frame from the camera on my laptop last night. I was leaning back on the couch, my eyes closed, my body naked and glistening with oil. My legs were spread wide; the end of a vibrator protruded from my ass, and a speculum was buried deep in my pussy, the gynecological tool stretching me open obscenely for the camera. My head was back, my long black hair cascading over my shoulders, and with one hand I was thrusting a long dildo deep into my mouth. The picture was a study in raw carnality, the dirtiest, nastiest image imaginable, and what made it the most compelling was how clearly aroused I was. A thin trickle of creamy white juices leaked from my spread-open pussy; my nipples stood up erect, hard as diamonds.

This was how Jason had seen me last night, as I wantonly impaled myself, masturbated for him, did dirty things to my body for his enjoyment without even knowing who he was. Studying the picture, remembering what I'd done to myself on the webcam and what he'd done to me later, I felt my body respond; my nipples hardened, and I felt my pussy contract around the dildo strapped inside me. And as I felt myself respond, my next actions were decided.

He'd known, of course. He'd known when he sent that picture that there was no way I could help but become aroused. Now that I was aroused, the dildos would stay in me until I gave myself an orgasm, masturbating in front of the cameras for whoever was watching.

If anyone was watching.

Moving slowly and deliberately, I pulled the sheet away from me, leaving my body exposed and naked as I sat on the edge of the bed. I ran my fingertips lightly over my breasts, feeling the dried crusty semen on them, making my nipples harden still more. I slid my hands down my body, moaning softly around the gag, stopping when I reached the leather strap around my waist that held the dildo and plug inside me. I unbuckled the strap and set it carefully on the nightstand. Then I placed my hands on my knees, 

I turned to face the computer on the nightstand, looking directly into the camera eye, then with one violent motion I pushed my knees apart, spreading my legs wide to give the camera a good view of the dildo and anal plug still within me. I held my legs apart for a long moment, giving the camera plenty of time to examine me, then opened the drawer on the nightstand and took out a tube of lubricant.

I slid the dildo partway out of my clenching pussy, then left it protruding indecently from between my legs as I opened the tube of lubricant. I squeezed a thick ribbon of the slippery jelly along the length of the dildo where it protruded from me, then set the tube back in the drawer. My body had betrayed me, reacting sexually to the image of myself from the night before and setting me down this path where I had to masturbate openly in front of the camera even knowing that Jason might be watching, and I intended to punish it for that.

I slid my hands back up my body, running my fingernails lightly over the sides of my breasts, then rested my hands over my breasts. I looked into the camera, my legs still splayed wide, then closed my eyes, thinking about what I was about to do.

Suddenly, savagely, I clamped down on my nipples, as hard as I could. I twisted them hard as I squeezed, and pulled them straight away from my body, punishing them for getting hard. My scream was muffled by the gag in my mouth, I threw my head back, my eyes squeezed tightly shut in pain, as I twisted and pulled my nipples ruthlessly.

When I could bear no more, I released my nipples and lay flat on my back on the bed, drawing my knees up and spreading my legs wider still. I gripped the dildo in both hands and shoved it into my aching pussy, fast and deep. I screamed again around the penis-shaped gag in my mouth as I took myself hard, thrusting the dildo savagely into my pussy with both hands, over and over. I twisted and thrashed on the bed as I ravished myself without mercy, impaling myself deeply and roughly, punishing my most private and sensitive place for what it had done to me, for the way it had wanted me to do this.

And I did want to do this. I wanted Jason to watch; I wanted him to see me violating myself this way. I wanted this performance to turn him on, wanted him to become aroused at the sight of me ravishing my own body so roughly. The idea that he might be watching aroused me still more; my own juices flowed freely from my assaulted pussy. I wanted to punish my body still more, wanted to sully myself for wanting him to watch.

I shoved the dildo into myself one more time and then stopped, taking my hands away, breathing deeply, moaning and whimpering. I wanted to make myself as dirty as I felt, show whoever might be watching just how filthy I was.

I sat up unsteadily. Acting on an impulse I didn't fully understand, I turned to the computer, setting the camera to record to disk as it broadcast. I picked up the tube of lubricating jelly again. Then I lay back down, holding the tube between my legs, and squeezed a large blob of jelly directly onto my clit. I kept squeezing as I moved the tube up over my mound, across my stomach, and up between my breasts, leaving a wide, thick ribbon of the slippery jelly all the way along my body. I made a large circle of jelly around each breast, the slippery goo oozing over my skin, thinking about how it had felt when Jason spurted blast after blast of thick warm come over my body. Finally, I squeezed the last of the jelly over each nipple, making a huge blob of goo in the center of each breast.

I dropped the empty tube and lay still for a long time, my arms at my sides, my eyes closed, remembering how dirty I had felt last night as I'd spread his come all over me. Very slowly, I brought my hands up to my breasts and squeezed them, hard, feeling the slippery goo ooze between my fingers. I slid my hands slowly down my body, smearing it thickly with the slick jelly, visualizing myself as I must have looked to him as I masturbated for him last night. I brought my hands back up my body, spreading the goo still more as I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, making myself dirtier with each passing moment. My hands found my breasts again, slick and glistening, wet sounds as I squeezed tightly, drawing another moan around the penis gag. The camera watched silently as my hands slid up and down the length of my body in long strokes, over and over, until I was covered in the gooey, oozing jelly.

My hands slid between my legs, one hand gripping the end of the dildo firmly as my fingers stroked my slippery clit. I drew the dildo slowly out until its head barely penetrated me, then shoved it in hard, slamming my hips up to meet it and pressing down on my clit with a fingernail. I took myself hard, my body drenched in sweat and goo, thrusting my hips up against the dildo again and again, until I exploded in orgasm, my body shaking and twitching, my screams stopped by the dildo strapped into my mouth.

Finally, the orgasm subsided, and I lay shaking on the bed, spent. I drifted for a time, half asleep, in the warm post-orgasmic glow. Eventually, the world drifted back into focus. I rose, wiping my hands on my thighs, and stopped the camera on my laptop from recording, then rose and walked on unstable legs into the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. I was truly a mess; the activities of the evening before and my own defilement of myself this morning were all over my body. My hair was matted and tangled; my body completely covered in drying and sticky lubricating jelly. Leaning close, I could still see the line of dried come where his semen had shot across my face, disappearing beneath the leather strap that held the penis gag in my mouth. The dildo still jutted from my aching pussy.

Part of me wanted to reach out and wipe the image away, but another part could not stop looking. I watched myself reach between my legs and withdraw the dildo; it came out with a wet sucking sound, thickly covered in lubricant and my own white, creamy come. I brought it up between my breasts, remembering how Jason's cock had felt between them last night, and stood before the mirror as if hypnotized, stroking the dildo there, adding my own juices to the layers of filth covering my body.

All at once, the spell was broken, and I shuddered and dropped the dildo onto the counter. I reached behind my head and unstrapped the gag with fingers made clumsy by haste, and pulled the penis gag from my mouth, dropping it also. Then I tugged at the plug, gasping as my anus stretched around the thick flared bulb, finally withdrawing it completely. Immediately, I felt something thick and warm and wet dripping from me and running down my leg-his come, which had remained in me all night. I felt deeply, achingly empty with nothing penetrating me, and dirtier than I had ever imagined possible.

I ran the shower until it warmed up, and stepped beneath the stream to wash the filth away. I soaped myself up again and again, scrubbing with the body sponge until my skin turned red. I washed my hair over and over, lathering it repeatedly until I had run out of shampoo.

Only then did I remember there was something else I had to do.

I sat carefully on the small bench in the back of the shower stall, facing the camera mounted over the door to the bathroom, and spread my legs wide. I picked up the can of shave gel and carefully, meticulously lathered the triangular patch of pubic hair between my legs. Then I slowly shaved myself bald, careful to remove every last trace of hair.

By the time I'd finished, the water ran cold. I stepped from the shower, wrapping a large fluffy towel around myself.

Impossibly, I still felt just as dirty as I had when I stepped into the shower. I wiped the steam from the mirror and regarded myself, still dripping wet. I raised my hand to my cheek, watching my reflection mimic me. I let the towel slip away and stroked my soft, hairless mound, studying my reflection as she did the same. I brought my hands to my breasts, halfway expecting to find them still covered in semen and sticky lubricating jelly and my own sexual juices...and for the briefest split-second, felt a flicker of something like disappointment when they weren't.

Instantly, a flash of heat flushed my face as a wave of burning, searing shame washed over me. "You dirty little slut," I said, addressing myself in the mirror. "You insatiable, greedy little cock-hungry whore. You can't get enough, can you?"

My nipples hardened in response under my hands. I grabbed them and twisted savagely. "You love giving up your body, don't you? You want to be fucked and used and come on, you want to be on your knees and begging for it, and oh, my God!" I twisted my nipples harder, gasping. "You like it! You like what happened to you! You filthy comesoaked whore!"

I picked up the dildo, still slippery with its thick coating of lubricant and come, and leaned in close to the mirror, bending over the sink. "You want this right now, don't you?" I asked my reflection accusingly. "You want this filthy thing shoved in your snatch." And it was true; I did. I wanted Jason to walk into the bathroom, right now; wanted him to grab my hair, bend me over the sink, and hold me there while he pounded me with the dildo, as Robert watched from his hotel room on the camera.

I laughed and turned away from the mirror, dropping the dildo, denying myself. I picked up the towel and began dried myself off, smiling, savoring the raging need and desire. It had been a long time since I'd felt this deliciously, desperately horny; Robert knew how to play my body and mind like an instrument, but this time he'd outdone himself.

Was he watching right now? Was Jason? Could either of them see my need? I looked up at the camera. No way to tell; and in a way, that made it even more delicious. I finished drying and slipped on my silky robe, not bothering to tie it closed, then went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. I could almost feel the cameras following me, and pictured the men switching views as I walked through the house.

In the kitchen, I put on a pot of coffee. I wasn't in any state to cook, so I rummaged through the refrigerator for a while and settled on cold milk and cereal. My hands kept slipping to my smooth, freshly-shaven mound; I stroked the soft skin, the sensations making me shudder and gasp. I leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, and let my hands wander over my body.

I let my mind drift as I waited. I imagined hearing a knock at the door, pictured myself opening the door dressed only in my thin silk robe. I visualized Jason standing there, that look of self-confident hunger on his face. "Yes or no?" the fantasy-Jason asked. "I will be rough."

"Oh, God, yes!" my fantasy-self replied. "I-"

In my mind, I never finished the sentence. Jason was on top of me, grabbing me by the hair, pulling my head back and kissing me roughly. I imagined him pushing me hard against the wall, stripping the robe from me, then dragging me by my hair into the kitchen. I visualized him pushing me down onto the table on my back, unzipping his pants, releasing his thick, hard cock. I imagined myself opening my legs willingly to him, and could almost hear my scream as he entered me, hard and rough, bringing me instantly to orgasm. I imagined him taking me, hard and demanding, again and again, every thrust bringing my orgasm higher; imagined my body, all soft curves and submission, giving itself up to him until his moans became a scream and he unleashed a torrent of hot, wet come deep inside me.

Then I imagined him pulling out of me, leaving me spent and moaning weakly and barely able to move. I pictured him zipping up his pants matter-of-factly, then turning to the refrigerator. I fantasized him taking out a pint of the heavy cream I like to use in my coffee, opening it, and pouring the cold white liquid over my face and body. I imagined him picking up a banana from the countertop and shoving it rudely into my dripping pussy, then pictured him turning to go, leaving me spent and naked on the table in a puddle of milk and come, the banana still buried inside me. I pictured Robert in his hotel room, watching intently, becoming hard and aroused at the sight of another man using and defiling me.

The coffee maker gurgled and burped as it finished brewing, bringing me out of the fantasy. I blinked, disoriented for a moment, then smiled as an idea came to me.

I poured myself a mug of coffee and set it on the table. I set a bowl on the table next to it, then put down the box of cereal and the carton of milk beside it. Still grinning, I picked up a banana from the counter and placed it on the table next to the milk.

I sat at the table facing the camera installed on the wall in the kitchen, hoping one or both of them was watching. I slipped the robe off my shoulders, and leaned back in my chair, spreading my legs and placing my heels up on the table. I caressed my body, stroking my breasts, running my fingernails over the soft skin, and felt myself respond. Then, grinning directly at the camera, I picked up the banana and peeled it.

I tossed the banana peel casually to the floor, then spread myself open with my fingers and carefully slid the peeled banana as deeply as I could into my pussy.The fruit was soft and yielding, much different from the hard, unyielding dildo that had been inside me for so long. I sighed and closed my eyes as I masturbated, moving the banana in slow, gentle strokes. 

When I felt my juices begin to flow, leaking out around the banana, I stopped and took my feet off the table, leaving the banana still nestled inside my body.I poured a bowl of cold cereal, then slowly withdrew the banana,. Grinning at the camera, I cut it into slices and added it to my cereal.

I caressed myself, feeling very dirty again at the thought of eating the banana that had so recently been inside me. One hand slid over my body, fondling my breasts, sliding over the smoothness between my legs as I ate. I moaned very softly, feeling horny and slutty and wonderfully sexy. My coffee sat untouched; and when I had finished my cereal, I ran my fingertips through the milk that remained at the bottom of the bowl and raised them to my lips, remembering my fantasy. Then I rose and slipped off the robe, leaving it crumpled on the chair as I walked naked through the house to get ready for work.




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 03



When I arrived at the office, my body was humming. The undercurrent of arousal made everything around me seem vibrant and electric. I rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor, and had to fight the urge to press myself to the cold, mirrored walls of the elevator car; by the time I reached my office, my nipples were painfully erect, and it was all I could do to answer the greetings of my coworkers coherently. I slipped gratefully into my office, panting, marveling at my own incredible arousal.

The morning passed quickly. I tried to shove my arousal to the back as I got into the flow of work, answering my office email and making phone calls. Most of the morning was occupied with a tricky tax matter, for a wealthy and elderly client trying to set up a complicated trust for his grandchildren. I put together a couple of different proposals for him, outlining the advantages and disadvantages and potential tax liabilities of each. All the while, my mind was on my laptop computer sitting in its case on the floor, thinking about the movie I'd recorded this morning.

At last, I was finished with the proposals. I sent them on their way, and turned to my laptop. I set it up on my desk, started my email program, and composed a message to Robert. I tilted the email "This Morning," and attached the movie file made by the camera in my laptop, then paused for a long moment with the mouse pointer over the "send" button, unexpectedly struggling.

It was possible he'd been watching, of course, and already knew what I'd done. Possible, but unlikely; I'd awakened quite early, and it was two hours earlier still in LA. If he hadn't seen it, did I really want him to know just how desperate I was, how dirty I'd been? It would arouse him, no question; but it would also challenge him, and he'd exploit it, seeking to make me even dirtier, thinking up ways to defile me even more. A part of me-the deep, animal part-wanted exactly that. Another part of me wondered how far he would go, and how far I would go, if he realized just what kind of state I was in...

As it turned out, the decision was made for me. A knock at the door, and I jumped, startled, my finger hitting the button. Just like that, the message was on its way. I blinked, staring at the progress bar as it went, thinking for just a split second that there was still time, I could still cancel it...

I turned away and opened the door to the FedEx delivery man. He presented a package, took my signature in exchange,. My heart jumped when I saw it was from a hotel in Los Angeles, and I thanked him hastily and rushed him back out the door.

Safely alone in my office once more, I tore open the package. Inside was a long, elegant box, made of some dark and richly polished wood, tied with red cord and latched with a tiny brass clasp. A folded sheet of paper was taped to the top of the box, "Read me first" printed neatly on it.

I unfolded the note and read:

I trust you enjoyed yourself last night. I have more delights in store for you today. Do not open this box just yet. I would like you to take your lunch early this afternoon, and when you are finished, go back to your office. Send me a text message on my cell phone when you are ready.

Always at your service, Robert

My heart thudded until it seemed to shake the walls. I could not contain the sudden rush of fear and excitement. Robert had clearly invested a great deal of thought and effort into what he had planned, and given what he'd already done, I was a little afraid of what else he might have in store for me.

I left the box sitting on the desk as I worked, trying with remarkably little success not to think about it. My concentration was shot; the only saving grace was that I had very little work on my desk, thank heaven for small blessings. The image Robert had emailed to me crept into my mind uninvited, like a song that wouldn't go away; every time I closed my eyes I saw it, remembered how aroused Id been, and how aroused I was to see my wanton sexuality so plainly displayed.

Eleven thirty came at last, and I took my lunch break and headed for the cafeteria on the bottom floor. I had the elevator to myself, and fought off the impulse to my breasts against it and reach between my legs...

Once in the cafeteria, I ordered almost randomly. I ate quickly, barely tasting my food, my mind on the polished wood box on my desk. As soon as I had finished, I rode back up to the twentieth floor, wondering what it was about that damn elevator that filled my head with visions of being thrust against its mirrored wall and used hard by men in business suits; when the doors opened, I darted down the hall and into my office, closing the door behind me and leaning against it, breathing hard. 

I stared at the long wooden box for a lingering moment, before I took out my cell phone and tapped out a message on its small keypad.

Im here

I didn't have long to wait. Moments later, my phone chirped an announcement of an incoming text message.

Lock your door and strip

I felt the heat rise in me, the thrill of fear and shame and sexual appetite.

Strip? im at the office

The answer came back almost instantly.

Strip Completely

I opened the door and looked around in the offices beyond. Most of my fellow coworkers seemed to be preparing for; it seemed unlikely I'd be interrupted. I withdrew back into my office and locked the door. I took a deep breath to steady myself, then reached down and slipped off my shoes.

My socks came next. I unfastened my slacks with shaking hands, then unbuttoned my blouse, folding them up neatly and setting them on my desk. Another deep breath, and I unclasped my bra, slipping it off and releasing my breasts. I slipped my panties down and stepped out of them, then set them neatly on the desk with the rest of my clothing and stood naked in my office.

Done

I typed, and hit the send button.

I'd never felt more utterly and completely naked than I did right now, standing nude in the middle of my office in the middle of the day, my coworkers just outside my door. My body trembled as I waited for the next message.

Open the box

I picked up the dark wooden chest and unwrapped the silken cord that tied it shut, then lifted the tiny clasp.

The inside of the box was lined in velvet. Nestled in its depths I saw a very long double-ended dildo, much longer than the one in my toy box at home and bent double to fit in the chest; a pair of leather wrist and ankle cuffs, wide and black, with thick buckles and large D-rings; and, incongruously, a black Magic Marker.

My cell phone chirped another message.

Sit in your chair Take out the dildo Shove it in your cunt

I felt lightheaded, as the animal rose, spreading fire and lust through my body. "No!" the rational part of me said. "You're at work! You can't..."

"Yes, I can," I said out loud. "Oh, yes, I can."

I took the dildo from its box and examined it, feeling my nipples harden and my face flush with excitement. It was very long-nearly three feet, at a guess-and made of smooth silicone, flexible and light purple in color, with a rounded head on each end. The muscles in my vagina twitched as I ran my hands along its length.

I sat down in my chair and spread my legs wide, draping my knees over the armrests. I brought the dildo between my legs, running the head over my shaven mound and then sliding it up and down between my pussy lips. In no time, I was dripping, my juices soaking the purple head of the long, snaky toy. I shuddered as I penetrated myself, the sensation as it spread me open and slid into me taking my breath away. I slid it in very slowly, until it was deep enough to make me whimper and could go no further. I stayed that way, legs splayed wide over the arms of the chair, dildo jutting obscenely from my bald pussy, and typed out a text message on my phone.

Done

The reply was quick in coming.

Fuck yourself Make yourself come Take a pic with your cell phone cam when you come Send it to me

Without hesitation, I began moving the dildo in long, slow strokes. I could almost see Robert awaiting the image I was to send him, and I resolved to take my time, build myself slowly to orgasm, tease him, make him wait. I closed my eyes as I took myself with long, lazy strokes, savoring the feel of the smooth dildo, the slight soreness deep inside my pussy.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself stepping onto the elevator, pictured a man getting on behind me. I imagined strong arms suddenly grabbing me from behind as the elevator doors closed. Pictured him reaching around me from behind, grabbing the front of my blouse, and ripping it open, sending buttons flying. I pictured his rough hands on my breasts, squeezing and fondling, then unhooking my bra and stripping it away as I screamed and struggled against him. I could picture him leering at me over my shoulder in the mirrored wall as I felt the hard bulge in his pants pressing against the crack of my ass, and I could almost feel his hands at the waistband of my slacks, pulling them open and ripping them down savagely, taking my panties with him as the elevator began to move. I imagined him, my nameless attacker, shoving me against the wall, pinning me there, and pictured him unzipping his pants, then the sudden invasion of his hard cock thrusting into me, violating me. I imagined his laughter as he found my pussy soaking wet and receptive to him; imagined him holding me against the wall as he took me from behind, impaling me over and over again until my screams became moans, and I could not stop myself from moving against him, pressing backward to meet his thrusts and exploding into orgasm, my breath fogging the mirror...

I felt the warm glow of impending orgasm, and moved the dildo faster. I barely had the presence of mind to hold the cell phone away from my body and snap the shutter as the sweet hot rush of climax overtook me. I cried out and thrust the dildo faster, almost dropping the cell phone in the throes of my orgasm.

When it faded, I slumped back in the chair, panting, the long dildo still extending out from me. When strength and reason returned, I looked at the cell phone, checking the pictures.

I had taken three. The first showed only my foot and the edge of my desk. The second captured my leg and thigh, one end of the dildo, and a vast expanse of the carpet. The third...

The third showed me leaning back in the chair, my head thrown back, erect nipples standing out from full breasts, legs wide apart, a blur of motion between my legs, eyes closed, mouth open in ecstasy. My fingers traced the tiny image on the glowing screen, and I whimpered softly, remembering the picture Robert had sent me this morning. My hand brushed my cheek, almost expecting to find the dried remnant of the jet of semen I had worked so hard to scrub away. I stared at the picture for a long time, then finally brought up Robert's phone number and pressed the button that sent the image on its instant journey, thousands of miles away.

A long minute passed, then another, and another after that. Then a message, announced by a chirp:

Nice I like it Is the dildo still in?

My reply, a single character:

y

Another chirp.

Take it out Turn it around Put the other end in your cunt

I pulled the object out, the end covered in my creamy juices, and turned it around. It slid easily back into my wet, sloppy pussy, and I sighed.

Done

The phone chirped.

Here is what you will do Bend over Put the other end in your mouth Fuck yourself to orgasm Turn it around Put it in your mouth again Fuck yourself to orgasm again

I flushed, feeling my ears turn red, and tapped out a reply.

2 more? i dont know if i can

His answer came back in moments.

You just made it 3 more Get busy

My heart thudded and a sound midway between a whimper and a sob escaped my lips. My recent orgasm, its glow fading, made what he was asking of me very difficult. I was aware suddenly of my nakedness, here in my office, and felt vulnerable, the possibility of being discovered masturbating playing over and over in my mind. My cheeks burned with shame as I leaned over in the chair and brought the end of the dildo, dripping with my own come, to my mouth. I parted my lips and took it in, tasting my own pleasure, trying to force away the image of a manager seeing me naked at my desk and masturbating this way. I closed my eyes and began moving the dildo, sliding it back and forth, in my mouth and pussy, as my mind returned to the elevator.

In my mind, I could see him, my anonymous assailant, laughing as I came, pulling his cock out of me; I visualized myself sliding weakly to the floor, imagined his hands on me, turning me around, forcing me to my hands and knees. I imagined his cock, hard and demanding and covered in my come, as he brought it up to my face; imagined him pulling my hair, forcing my head back, then stuffing his cock into my mouth as I cried out. I pictured him forcing me to watch in the mirror as he fucked my mouth with ruthless efficiency.

I took myself hard with the dildo, every stroke pushing it first into my mouth and then deeper into my pussy, and soon the orgasm wrenched and smashed and tore through me. Before it had even ended, I pulled the dildo from my grasping pussy and turned it around, thrusting it back in. I bent over, bringing the other end into my mouth, and masturbated in short, fast strokes, the blunt sex toy muffling the moan at every thrust. 

I pictured myself staring sideways at my own reflection, on my hands and knees in the elevator with a stranger's cock in my mouth. I imagined that cock at the back of my throat, his hands on my head, pushing it down as he thrust his hips forward. I imagined myself helpless, kneeling on the floor of the elevator car, watching in shame and humiliation as he ravished my mouth, using it for his own pleasure, until finally he could take it no more and he erupted, filling my mouth with his hot thick semen, blast after blast, on and on, impossibly, until I could not swallow fast enough to prevent it from spilling from my lips and running down my face...

My second orgasm was an explosion of pleasure and pain combined, my aching pussy complaining from the heavy use of the past two days. I screamed around the dildo, shaking and sore, then straightened and pulled it from me with a wet sucking sound.

Little tremors and aftershocks racked my body. I sat trembling, feeling used and dirty and ashamed, wanting even more to punish my body. Then, slowly, I turned the dildo around, bringing the end that had just been inside me to my lips. I struggled with myself, revulsion and shame washing over me in waves, the wet dildo poised against my lips. "Take it, you slut," I said aloud to myself, "you want it, you know you do..."

My other hand crept unbidden to my nipple, and I twisted it, hard. My mouth opened and I shoved the dildo in, fast and deep, choking as it hit the back of my throat. I tilted my hips up and shoved the other end into my aching pussy, driving it furiously inside myself, much too deep.

This time, there was no fantasy, no buildup, just a hard, brutal fucking. I pounded myself as my fingers dug into my breast, and I came quickly and savagely. Lightning exploded somewhere deep inside, and just as fast, it was gone. I collapsed, curled up sideways in the chair in a puddle of my own come.

When I could move again, I put the dildo on my desk, not wanting to touch it any more. I picked up the cell phone, which I'd dropped forgotten on the floor somewhere along the way without realizing it, and typed a simple message.

done

The chirp came instantly, as if he'd been waiting.

Good Are you my slut?

That question had only one answer, the evidence all over my office.

Yes

The chirp of an incoming message.

There is a marker in the box Take it out Write on yourself Nice big letters Come slut on one breast Cock sucker on the other breast I swallow across your tummy Fuck toy on one thigh Filthy whore on the other Send a pic when you are done

My face flushed and my ears burned crimson. My arousal was completely gone, burned away in the fires of the orgasms I'd forced on myself; the thought of defiling my body with those words horrified me. My hands shook as I took the Magic Marker out of the box, trembling so badly I dropped the cap as I removed it.

I brought the marker up to my breast and began to write. It left a thick, heavy black line on my skin, and I whimpered as I drew, spelling out the words COME SLUT in large block letters across my breast. When I had finished, my face was red and hot, burning with shame, and every fiber in me screamed at me to throw the marker far away, dress, go down the hall into the bathroom, scrub the words off my body. 

My grip tightened on the marker as I warred with myself, struggling to do what I'd been told. I closed my eyes tightly and drew a shuddering breath, remembering the things I'd said to myself in the mirror after my shower. Those words, and the feelings behind them, seemed to belong to somebody else, someone a long way away.

Sounds outside my office door reminded me that my coworkers were beginning to return from lunch, and I was running out of time. I opened my eyes and brought the marker to my other breast. My hands seemed heavy, and I felt like I was moving through thick molasses; it took every scrap of energy I could muster to force myself to write the words COCK SUCKER across my breast. The soft, wide felt tip of the marker actually felt pleasant on my skin, and my nipple responded, driving the humiliation deeper.

Without pausing to give myself time to think, I turned my attention to my stomach, printing I SWALLOW in large capitals across my soft skin. I spread my legs again, draping them once more over the arms of the chair, and with tears of shame burning my eyes, began writing on my inner thighs, FUCK TOY along one thigh; FILTHY WHORE along the other.

I remained that way, sitting with my legs spread wide, as I held my cell phone over my body and snapped a picture. The image concealed my face, showing only my body from my shoulders down-firm, rounded breasts; flat stomach; smooth, shaven pussy; long, well-muscled legs; large, thick black words; the puddle of my own come beneath me. I fumbled with the buttons on the cell phone and sent the picture away.

I remained motionless in my chair, legs wide, feeling the wetness cooling beneath me, until the phone chirped his response.

Lovely Very sexy I have arranged for you to do another cam show at 6:30 Jason will be watching

I stared at the message, disbelieving, and tapped out a reply.

Tonight?

The phone chirped quickly.

Yes When you get home put on the cuffs He will probably start watching early You may entertain him if you like The show will start at 6:30 Log in then Oh yes 1 more thing

I felt my heart pound as I typed my replay.

What?

The phone chirped and the text message appeared.

Last night You came in your sleep 3 times I watched You were to text me if you had any orgasms You didnt There is something you must do because of that

My heart pounded harder, and electricity buzzed and coiled within me.

What?

The message came back quickly.

Stop at the store on the way home Buy the following items 1 box of condoms 1 cucumber 1 large tube of ky 1 box of butter you will use them for the show tonight by the way I loved the movie you dirty dirty girl back to work now get dressed see you tonight

My heart leaped into my throat. Just imagining that trip to the store, just picturing buying the things on that list, was enough to make me want to crawl into a small hole somewhere.




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 03



I picked up my clothes and dressed quickly, hooking my bra over the words on my breasts, buttoning my blouse over the things written on my stomach, sliding my slacks up my legs, hiding them from sight. I mopped up the wetness from my chair with a handful of tissues, packed the dildo and marker back in the box, and combed my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself at least halfway presentable. With a deep breath, I unlocked my office door and opened it.

A handful of people in the large cubicle farm looked up. I felt the weight of every pair of eyes, some part of my mind screaming that they knew what I'd done in my office, that the evidence was visible all over me. My hand touched my cheek, and I turned away from the door, redfaced.

Concentration proved difficult. For the next several hours, I buried myself in work, trying not to think of the errand I would do on the way home. I found myself constantly checking and re-checking my blouse, convinced that the writing on my body must be showing, for everyone to read. Whenever someone came into my office, I would jump, and try to hide myself as much as possible, staying behind my desk, sheltered from prying eyes by my computer's monitor.

Nobody seemed to notice my distraction. I felt vulnerable and exposed, as though sitting at my desk naked. As people spoke to me, my eyes would flit nervously to the wooden box on my desk, as if something in me expected it to turn transparent, revealing its contents, exposing my wanton sluttiness.

At ten minutes until for, my computer chimed, my scheduling program popping up a reminder of today's four o'clock department meeting-something I'd forgotten about entirely. Panic raced through me, squeezed my heart, brought a flush to my face. The rational part of me wanted to flee, hide, anything to avoid the attention of a dozen pair of eyes. I thought briefly about leaving the office early, inventing an excuse to beg off the meeting, then dismissed the thought as irresponsible and prepared for the meeting, printing the reports and tables I would need, mechanically, my heart pounding.

When I was ready, I gathered my materials and steeled myself, then walked down the short hallway to the conference room. The others were already there; I froze at the doorstep as everyone looked up at me, convinced they could see right through me, could see the words written all over my body. I flushed and ducked my head, scurrying to my seat at the large oval table, avoiding everyone's gaze.

The meeting was a long, slow hour of torment, Chinese water torture by words. As the time for my own presentation closed in, my shame and humiliation grew; the rational part of my mind retreated in panic, afraid speak, to be the center of all these looks...

...and then the unfolding of time could not be denied, and it was my turn, and I opened my mouth to speak. The circle of faces around the table turned their attention to me, and in that instant, something happened within me. A tiny shift, and just like that, everything was different.

A strange and fierce joy swept over me. I had a secret, one expressed in my throbbing pussy and literally written all over my body, a secret that would set hearts racing and make cocks rise if these men knew. I gave my report, professional and detached, voice calm and flat as I recited numbers and talked about action items. Inside, I thought of vulgar and degrading things, relished the fact that I, the desperately horny come slut, could sit in this conference room, words of filth and degradation scrawled in marker all over my body, and none of them was the wiser.

I smiled a small, secret smile as I finished my report, exhilarated, the feelings of humiliation transformed into something else-a secret delight at the contrast between the cool, professional exterior and the white-hot carnal lust inside. I wondered how many of these men, men I'd worked alongside for years, had entertained secret sexual fantasies about me, and wondered how they would react if they knew everything. I smiled wider, imagining their reactions if they'd seen last night's performance, or watched what I'd done this morning.

The meeting broke up; I excused myself and left. I gathered up my laptop and the box Robert had sent, and walked out to my car, whistling cheerfully. As I drove to the store, I could feel a tingle between my legs, and the dampness growing there. I found myself imaging the things Robert would almost certainly tell me to do with the cucumber. 

At the store, it took very little time for me to find the condoms, butter, and KY. The cucumber took a bit longer. I lingered in the produce aisle, picking up the cucumbers, running my hands back and forth over them, searching for the right one. Smooth, straight, rounded end, just the right size to be an interesting challenge to take... I selected one and stroked it, my fingers not quite long enough to reach around it. Yes, I thought, this would do nicely.

The person behind the cash register was a matronly lady, older than I was, with silver hair and glasses. She examined the contents of my basket and pursed her lips. I met her gaze levelly, raising one eyebrow, daring her to speak, and she looked away and rang up my purchases in silence. I smiled, thanked her pleasantly, and took my bag back to the car.

I stopped on the way home for Chinese takeout. At home, I walked through the door, smiling at the camera in the living room, and set out the cardboard containers on the table. I ate quickly under the gaze of the camera in the kitchen, then returned to the living room to prepare for the evening.

First, the cuffs. I sat on the couch, opened the wooden box, and took them out. They were dark black, with large metal buckles and a metal ring attached with rivets, and smelled of new leather. I slipped off my shoes and socks, and buckled the ankle cuffs around my ankles, cinching them tight. The wrist cuffs I strapped around my wrists, using my teeth to pull them tight. The leather felt delightfully erotic on my skin. I smiled and ran my hands over my body.

Next, the living room. I spread a large, soft, fluffy towel on the couch, on the idea that whatever Robert had planned for the evening, it was apt to be messy; then brought the toy box into the living room, and set it on the end of the couch. I arranged the cucumber, condoms, and KY on the coffee table, and set up my laptop next to them, making sure the camera on the laptop had a good view. I felt myself growing excited, felt my nipples harden as I set up for the evening's show; the knowledge that I would be performing for a second watcher, a watcher who was probably observing me right now, fantasizing about me, knowing that I would soon be doing dirty things to myself, made the preparations deliciously erotic.

I checked the time, impatient; still several minutes to go. I found my thoughts returning to the morning, to the things I had done to myself before work, and could not help grinning. On a sudden impulse, I returned to the bedroom and dragged out the large free-standing mirror next to the dresser, then set it up facing the couch where I would be able to watch myself. 

At 6:29, I took the box of butter from the refrigerator and set it on the coffee table. At 6:30, I turned to the laptop and logged in to the chat server.

The window appeared instantly:

You are right on time. Very good. Did you stop at the store and get the things I asked?

I nodded. "Yes."

Are you my slut?

A tremor ran down my body; my face flushed, and my nipples came alive. "Yes. Oh God, yes."

Good. I hope you are ready. You are going to have a long evening. Get your nipples hard.

I whimpered slightly, and my hands rose to my breasts. I caressed and fondled then through my blouse, my eyes half-closed, as little shocks of pleasure ran through me; my fingers curled around my nipples, stroking and coaxing them through the fabric. Soon they stood out rock-hard, straining against my clothing, sensitive. I leaned forward, presenting them to the camera that watched silently from my laptop.

Very good. You were disobedient last night. You had several unauthorized orgasms. I am afraid that is a serious matter. I see you brought out the box of toys. Open it. Take out two clothespins. Clamp your nipples through your shirt.

I couldn't suppress the small whimper. I turned to the toy box, hands shaking as I searched within and drew out the clothespins. My nipples ached already from the rough treatment I'd given them earlier; my hands shook as I brought the clothespin up to my left nipple and opened its jaws. I froze for a long moment, knowing my clothing would offer little protection from the cruel bite; then, shuddering, I closed my eyes and willed myself to release the clothespin, very slowly.

It was worse than I had expected.

Fire raced through my nipple as the clothespin clamped down. I heard myself cry out at the unexpected pain, the sound jarringly loud. I clenched my eyes shut, panting, struggling to keep control; then, before I could lose my nerve, I brought the second clothespin up to my other nipple and clamped it quickly in place.

I cried out again, the scream muffled through clenched teeth, my hands curling into tight balls. Finally, the fire faded to a dull ache, and I forced my eyes open.

You are so beautiful when you're in pain. We need to get you undressed, though.

He does not know about the things you've written on your body. I bet it will turn him on to see what filthy things you have written all over yourself, don't you think?

My face flushed again with embarrassment. I fought with the sudden shame, the urge to turn away from the camera, and willed my fingers to find the top button of my blouse...

No. Stop. Not like that. Look in the box of toys. Take out the scissors. Cut off your blouse and your bra. Do not remove the clothespins.

My protest died on my lips, even as I reached into the toy box and found the scissors. The blouse was one of my favorites...

Snip! and the first button went flying

...and I hated to ruin it, yet...

Snip! a second button dropped to the floor

...something about this felt so viscerally wanton, slutty...

Snip! the third button falling away, the blouse parting, revealing my bra

...and I could feel, through the pain in my nipples and the embarrassment, my pussy twitching...

Snip! another button lost

...and I found myself staring at my image in the mirror, my eyes following every move of the scissors...

Snip! the last button gone, my blouse hanging open

...and I felt almost hypnotized. I watched myself cut the blouse to ribbons, scissoring away large chunks of the silky fabric, working from the bottom up, revealing the words I SWALLOW written across my stomach in thick black marker, until finally the blouse hung from my body in tatters. 

Entranced, I watched myself run the cool, hard metal blade of the scissors over the soft skin of my stomach. I drew the point of the blade slowly up my body, raising shivers, shuddering at the sensation, and hooked the tip of the blades beneath the clasp of my bra, between my breasts.

Snip!

The bra parted, revealing my. I slipped one blade beneath the cup of my bra, dragging the tip over my breast lightly, slowly; then, three quick snips and scraps of bra and blouse joined the growing pile of fabric on the couch. The hard steel blade of the scissors caressed my breast as it did its work; I cut a large, ragged hole in the front of my blouse, then slipped the blade beneath the strap of the bra, and...

Snip!

...it fell, bringing the upper curve of my breast, bringing the word "COCK" in its crude block letters into view. A few more slices, and the bottom part of the bra was gone, exposing the rest of my breast and the word "SUCKER."

I leaned back against the cushions of the sofa, closed my eyes, and let the points of the scissors play over my breast, a sharp counterpoint to the ongoing dull ache of the clothespins. I ran the blade ever so lightly over my neck, bringing shivers and raising goosebumps, then dragged the hard steel lightly over my cheek. My lips parted, and I licked the blade with the tip of my tongue, then brought it slowly down the other side of my neck and slipped it beneath the collar of the tattered blouse.

Snip! Snip! Snip!

A piece of the blouse, collar and shoulder, fell away, revealing the other bra strap.

Snip!

The strap gave way to hang loosely from my shoulder. I slipped the scissors beneath what was left of the bra and cut steadily, making a tight circle around my nipple; the scraps of cloth fell to the couch, revealing the words COME SLUT in black marker, leaving only tiny fragments, clamped to my nipple by the clothespin, behind. I shrugged off the last remnants of the blouse, naked now from the waist up, the clothespins on my nipples holding small scraps that were all that was left of the clothes.

You are such a sexy slut. Now do your pants.

I reached down to my belt and unbuckled it, then pulled it off and dropped it beside the couch. Eyes closed, I dragged the tip of the scissors in a lazy spiral around my breast, and pressed slightly harder, feeling the point dig slightly into my silky skin. Another shudder, and I sighed. I spread my legs wide, and watched myself in the mirror as I dragged the tip of the scissors down, between my breasts, over my stomach, then further down still, catching the hem of my slacks between the blades, feeling the hard metal on the soft, sensitive skin of my mound. A few quick cuts, and I sliced the crotch out of my slacks, to show the white cotton of my panties, already dark and moist with my arousal.

A quick minutes' work with the scissors, and the slacks fell off me in ribbons, leaving only my panties, socks, and shoes. I drew my feet up onto the couch, spreading my legs more widely still, exposing my inner thighs and the words written on them to the camera. I imagined my audience reacting, imagined Robert and Jason watching, imagined them growing stiff as they read the words scrawled all over my body, coveting me, wanting to make those words true...

Two snips, and the panties were gone. I slipped off the socks and shoes, then slid my hand over my smooth, hairless mound and spread myself open, exposing myself for the camera, and caught my breath as I saw in the mirror the white wetness of my arousal dripping from inside me. I arched my back, feeling wanton and slutty, a being of pure sexual heat; I slid one finger deep inside myself, seeking the wetness, then withdrew it and raised it to my lips. I caressed my lips lightly with the wet fingertip, parting them and leaving a trail of dampness behind. 

Flush with arousal, I picked up the scissors again, and dragged the sharp tip of the blades slowly down my breast, then pressed it against the clothespin clamping my nipple. I shuddered and hissed at the sensation, the pain in my already aching nipple; the sensation, electric, reverberated down my body to the dripping wetness between my legs. Then, achingly slowly, I traced the sharp point along the underside of my breast, across the smooth skin of my stomach and along the outlines of the words written there, and over the velvety, sensitive skin of my bald, shaven mound.

I reached between my legs with one hand and parted the lips of my vulva, then slipped the flat back of the blades between them. I whimpered at the feel of the cold, unyielding metal, eyes closed, and pressed the dull metal hard against my aching, screaming, sensitive clit.

The sensation was an explosion deep within me, pleasure and pain entwined, inseparable. I almost came immediately, back arching and legs shaking, and I dug my fingernails hard into my thighs, struggling against the climax. I felt the wetness pour out of me, onto the blade of the scissors; heard desperate mewling and whimpering sounds escaping my throat.

I pressed the blade harder against me, until pain won out over pleasure and I was able to force back the orgasm, cage it, keep it at bay. I opened my eyes, panting, and brought the scissors away. The blades were dripping with my juices. I raised it to my lips and ran my tongue lovingly, sensuously over the sharp steel, filling myself with the familiar taste of my arousal.

You are the sexiest slut imaginable. When I get home the day after tomorrow, I am going to do things to you you won't even believe. Put down the scissors. Take out a stick of butter. Unwrap it.

I did as I was bidden, setting the scissors down on the coffee table and picking up the box of butter. I withdrew a stick and pulled the wax paper wrapping off. "Now what?"

I think you know.

I looked blankly at the laptop, holding the slightly greasy stick of butter between my fingers. "Hmm?"

You figure it out.

"But I don't-"

Do what you think is most appropriate with it.

I flushed, and felt my face and ears burn scarlet. I knew, or suspected I knew, precisely what he intended for me to do, and yet...

And yet he hadn't actually told me to do it, and that made the shame come rushing over me all at once. He hadn't actually old me to do it; anything I did would be my own idea, and he would know it...

Do it. Show us what you think the best use for that butter is. Now.

I flushed a deeper crimson, suddenly reminded that the eyes watching me belonged to more than just Robert.

Right now.

I looked fixedly at the reflection in the mirror, shutting out the camera watching me from the top edge of the laptop. A part of me felt detached; that was the person doing this, the filthy slut who would pleasure herself with anything, not me... I watched as she slid the stick of butter over her body, between her breasts, watched as she opened herself up, watched as she pressed it between her legs...

The butter was cool, slightly slippery, and shaped awkwardly for penetration. I shivered at the coldness, the hard but yielding stick spreading me open, slipping into me surprisingly easily, the corners already beginning to round as I impaled myself on it.

And it felt good, despite the shape and the cold. I pushed, my fingers digging into the sides as I pressed it in deeply. I heard a moan; my voice, not the reflection, my pleasure as I violated my most intimate place with a stick of butter. Another moan as I began working it, using it like a soft and slick dildo, in long slow strokes. I could feel it warming, softening, my body pressing it into a more pleasing shape; after the rough, relentless poundings I'd given myself with the dildos, it felt soft and gentle, erotic, slippery in my clenching grasp.

Another moan. The woman in the reflection was nearing orgasm...and I felt it within me, building, growing as I thrust the butter faster. I looked over at the computer, expecting to see Robert instructing me to stop.

That's it. Good girl. Hot buttery cunt. Fuck yourself. Get yourself off. Come on that stick of butter. Do it!

The warm butter was softening inside me, velvety slickness moving in and out of me. I thrust faster, rocking my hips unconsciously to drive it deeper, my fingers playing frantically over my clit; the mirror reflected back to me the perfect image of a sex-starved slut, masturbating obscenely for a camera, raw sexual need literally written all over her body.

I spread my legs wider, wanting the whore in the mirror to do the same, to give me a better view of the soft yellow bar she was driving so obscenely into her shaved snatch. The mirror image felt disconnected, unreal, as though we were two separate players in a very pornographic show.

I watched her, my partner in the mirror, savoring her obvious arousal, how clearly she was enjoying masturbating with that stick of butter, how her pleasure was written in the arch of her back, the sheen of sweat on her skin, on her face, in her eyes, unmistakable. I loved how undeniable her enjoyment was, how plain it was to anybody who saw her; my orgasm overtook me quickly, and soon she and I were screaming, heads thrown back in mutual ecstasy.




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 04



I hung there, in a dreamless sleep, beyond awareness or reason. Slowly, the faintest perceptions began to seep into the formless void...a sense of coolness, and barely, at the periphery of consciousness, a stirring, and a subtle feeling of need. Then, a rhythm, my hips moving of their own accord, and a feeling, building...

...and suddenly, I snapped awake, confused and disoriented. I was blind; something covered my eyes, blocking vision. I could feel a heavy presence over me; blunt fingers pressed between my legs, probing. I cried out in sudden panic, and tried to push the hand away, but my wrists were bound together, making me clumsy and ineffective. I tried to twist away, but my feet were held together...

A hand clamped roughly over my mouth, pressing me down into the bed and cutting me off in mid-scream. The fingers shoved tight in the space between my legs moved faster, and it was already too late; I'd been too close before I woke, and my hips writhed upward to meet them even as I struggled and fought to escape. Then the orgasm was on me, unstoppable, and I writhed and shook and sobbed, fear and ecstasy twining together, and screamed around the hand pressed over my mouth.

Laughter, as the hands over my mouth and between my legs were withdrawn. "You really are a delightful slut, aren't you? You're always ready, even in your sleep!"

I lay panting, naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, my wrists and ankles cuffed together, eyes blindfolded. "Damnit, Jason! You scared the bejeezus out of me!" My heart pounded so fiercely I could scarcely think. I reached up to the blindfold, and jumped as his hands caught mine.

"Nope, you're not taking that off just yet."

I sat up and pulled the sheet around me, feeling exposed.

"Oh, no, you don't." Strong hands pulled the sheet away. "I like your body too much to let you cover it up." Fingers stroked my left breast, and I jumped in surprise and pulled away.

Another laugh. "Besides, I think we're a little past the point of shyness in our relationship, don't you? I mean, considering that hot kinky sex and all." His fingers caressed my breasts, surprisingly gentle. I drew my knees up toward my body and shrank back against the cool wall behind me, its texture slightly rough on my skin.

His hands, warm and soft, fell to my knees and gently coaxed them apart. Fingernails traced lightly over my inner thigh; I shuddered at the sensation and felt goosebumps rise. Then fingertips on my breasts again, lightly describing patterns in my skin. I moaned softly in spite of myself, and felt my resentment at the rude awakening start to slip.

"So are these true?"

"What?"

"What you've written on your body. 'Cock sucker.' 'Come slut.'" His fingers were a gentle caress as they traced the letters drawn in black marker on my skin. "'I swallow.' Do you?"

"I was..." I drew up tighter against the wall. "I was told to write those things on myself."

"That isn't what I asked. I asked if they were true. Are they? Do you?"

"Yes," I said, my voice small. I felt suddenly self-conscious and vulnerable, and drew my knees together again.

"Yes to what? Yes you swallow, or yes the things you wrote all over yourself are true?"

"Yes to..." I stammered, throat dry. "Yes to both." I flushed beneath the blindfold, and I was suddenly glad it hid part of my face from him.

"Kneel." The word was halfway between a request and a command.

"I..."

"Kneel!" This time, there was an edge to it, that tone of authority that always, whenever I hear it, slips past my defenses and goes right to the heart of where I live. Oh, I thought, even as I moved reflexively to comply, he's learning fast...

His hands caressed my hair and slid down over my bare shoulders as I knelt bound and blindfolded on the bed in front of him. His touch was soft and sensual, a contrast to his commanding voice. 

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I have something for you, something I think you might like." He took my hands in his, and spread my fingers open. Then he drew my hands up, wrists held close together by the carabiners linking the leather cuffs I wore, and wrapped my fingers around his erect shaft.

I shuddered and drew in my breath. He was very hard; his erection jutted out at a sharp angle from his body, so close to my face, swarm and silky under my fingers. "So, you say it's true that you're a cocksucker. Would you like this in your mouth?"

I nodded, wordlessly, and licked my lips involuntarily. A part of me cringed at the obviousness of the gesture.

"Convince me."

"What?"

"Convince me. I want you to convince me that you want my cock in your mouth. Beg for it. Tell me what you are, and tell me how badly you want it."

"But I..."

"Shhh." His finger over my lips, softly. "Not another word out of you unless it's to persuade me that you're a come slut, and you want my cock in your mouth." His fingers stroked lightly, one fingertip slightly parting my lips. "And, you know, I've heard that women don't really enjoy sucking cock, so I might be difficult to convince."

"I..." I swallowed nervously, feeling awkward and vulnerable and slightly uncomfortable. I remembered viscerally the way it had felt, when he'd first taken me, to have him in my mouth, how different he was from Robert, how much it had turned me on... My stomach did little nervous flip-flops, and I felt something wet drip from between my legs. I remembered, too, that I had wanted to taste him, I had wanted to bring him to pleasure with my mouth, and that I had actually been disappointed when it hadn't happened.

I ran my fingers blindly over the length of his shaft, feeling the soft warm skin, the thickness and rigidity. "I want to suck your cock."

"That's not very convincing. You didn't even say 'please.'"

"Please!" My voice quavered, and my skin felt hot. "Please, I want to suck your cock." My cheeks glowed redly.

"If that's the best you can do, we're going to be here for a while. I want you to make me believe it."

"I..." I took a deep breath and shuddered. "I want to suck your cock. I need to suck your cock. You're driving me crazy!" I curled my fingers tighter around his shaft, and felt the craving begin to grow for real. "I want this in my mouth. I want to draw it in until I feel your head at the back of my throat. I want to feel my mouth open when I take it in. I want to feel my lips stretch around it. I want to take it all until it completely fills my mouth. I want to savor it slowly and slide my slippery wet tongue over it and cherish it and oh, God..." I shuddered again, at the words spilling from my lips, and at the longing and craving they ignited.

I slid my hands up further, until my fingers caressed the bulbous head of his erection. They found a drop of wet slick, and I whimpered with sudden need. I clenched and felt more wetness between my legs. My nipples, still sore from the clothespins during the evening's show, came painfully erect. "Please! Please let me suck your cock! I need a cock in my mouth, I'll do anything you say! Please, I'm such a come slut, my mouth needs to be filled with warm sweet come! I want to taste it, I want to feel it sliding down my throat I want you to fill my mouth with it, please!" The words poured out of me, and took on a life of their own, undeniable and irrevocable as they fled from my lips and hung in the air between us.

"Anything I say, hmm? I'll hold you to that, you know. But I'm still not convinced."

My heart skipped a beat. A tiny part of my mind wondered if I'd made a mistake with my offer; the larger part, the part consumed by hunger, didn't care.

"Please, please, please," I begged, desperate, the words nearly sobs. "Come in my mouth, I am such a filthy come starved whore, I need a hard cock spurting in my mouth, please! I'll be a good girl, I'll swallow it all, I promise! Fuck my mouth, use it, it feels so good! I love sucking cock, please..." I slid my hands down the length of his cock and back up again, and ran my fingers over the knob of his head. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and felt more wet slickness flow around my fingers and drip down my wrists. I whimpered and moaned, and a sudden powerful contraction between my legs nearly made me come.

"Please, please use my mouth! I am a cocksucking come slut, my mouth needs a cock in it, that's what it's there for, please use it! Shove your cock in my mouth, let me taste your sweetness. I am a dirty, come-swallowing fuck toy, and I need my mouth to be stuffed with cock and filled with cream. Please!" I was surprised at how genuine the need had become, how quickly the begging had taken me over. Somehow, the knowledge that this turned him on, that he was aroused seeing me consumed with need, made the need real. "God, I want your come in my mouth, I want to swallow every drop and come back for more. Please!"

His hand touched my cheek, swept my hair backwards. "Hands and knees."

I obeyed instantly; my fingers released his cock, and I knelt on my hands and knees on the bed in front of him, straining forward, mouth open.

A warm drop, a sensation of wetness on my lips. I moved to take his cock in my mouth, and he stepped away, laughing. "Oh, my God, you should see yourself right now. You really want it, don't you?"

"Yes!" The word was an explosion of frustration and need. He had, in a very short time, stoked my desire into white heat, and a sudden, terrible bolt of fear shot through me at the thought that he might leave me like this, without giving me what I wanted...

"Stay still. Don't move until I tell you." Warmth and slick wetness, as he brushed the head of his cock on my lips. I whimpered and trembled, fighting to remain still.

He drew away. "Lick your lips."

I did as I was told, my tongue sampling the salty wetness he'd left there. Instantly, the craving doubled; the small taste made me want more, much more, spurting in my mouth, running down my throat...

"Is that what you need?"

"Oh, my God, yes!" I whimpered, words driven by the real fear that he might work me up this way and leave me hanging. "I want your come, I want you to flood my mou-"

My words were cut off abruptly by his cock. He thrust his shaft, rigid and demanding, past my lips and deep into my mouth, and I thrust forward eagerly to receive it. My pussy twitched and spasmed, and warm wetness dripped down my thigh. I moaned around it as it filled my mouth, and moved my head quickly, sucking hard.

"Slowly! Savor it." The commanding tone was back.

I moved back, letting the hard shaft slip slowly from between my lips until only the very tip of the head rested lightly on my bottom lip. I remained poised there for a long minute, and the small still part of my brain wondered what a sight I was, on my hands and knees, blindfolded, wrists and ankles bound, breasts dangling, naked body glossy with sweat, lips barely parted by the head of this cock... 

Then, slowly, I began to move. The world around me contracted to he one point of contact between his body and mine, and that contact consumed my focus; I felt the way my lips parted and stretched around him as I drew him in, tasted the thick drop of wet that rolled from the end, felt my jaw move and my mouth open wider to accommodate him as he slid over my tongue, felt the blunt round head pushing against the back of my mouth. I moaned and whimpered and sighed and made wet slurping sounds as I sucked, increasing my pace gradually, touching him only with lips and mouth and tongue, wishing for more, for strong hands on the back of my head demanding pleasure from me, like the way he'd first taken me.

He moaned. "I'm going to come. I'm going to give you what you need...oh!" He tensed and shook and the penis twitched in my mouth, and then he was screaming, and I felt jet after jet of warm thick goo, gushing, filling my mouth, exactly what I needed. I gulped and swallowed greedily, a desperate and needy come slut, wanting him to see the truth of the things written on my body.

And then it was over, and his softening flesh slipped from my mouth. I felt the mattress shift as he sat beside me, and I turned and reached for the blindfold again.

"Don't." His hands caught mine, preventing the motion. I sat up, on the bed, close enough to him to feel the heat from his body, and felt his hands on my breasts again. "So I see it is true. Do you always swallow?"

I flushed, face hot. "Yes."

"Hmm. That's a pity."

"Why?"

A chuckle. "Well, what fun is that? I like to see it, you know? I'd like to watch it drip out of your mouth and run down your chin and splash on your breasts. I like the idea of seeing you messy and dirty. When I saw what you did with all that KY when you woke up this morning, how messy you made yourself, I almost lost it right there!"

I flushed hotter. "You...were watching this morning?"

"After the night before? Are you kidding? I logged on to your server first thing when I woke up and haven't logged out since. Those little shows you've been putting on...man! I've never seen a woman get into her body the way you do. So how'd he do it, anyway?"

"How did who do what?"

"Rob. How'd he get you to agree to do whatever he told you to do?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "You have no idea... What made you think it was his idea?"

What? No, you mean-"

"Oh, yes. This...arrangement of ours was my doing, not his. I have some...um, unusual turn-ons, and-"

"I'd noticed. But okay, I'll bite. Like what?"

"Like..." I stammered, feeling suddenly awkward. This is silly, I thought, you've shared your body with this man, you should be able to talk about it... "Like, I...um, it turns me on to be told what to do. And, I like-showing off. I like having someone watch me do things to myself, especially..." I whimpered and drew my arms close. "Especially if I know he wants me. And I like when...I, um...it's kind of hard to explain, but I like when I'm embarrassed. Like, when someone I'm having sex with calls me dirty names, or..."

"Or makes you beg for it?"

Rising heat touched my face and ears. "Yes."

"So tell me something. I'm curious."

"What?"

"Would you ever have fucked me if Rob hadn't told you that you had to?"

I thought about it for a minute. "You sure you want an answer?"

"Tell me."

"No."

He laughed. "You know, this might sound a little weird, but that kinda turns me on. I like knowing that the only reason you let me fuck you is that you were ordered to. That's really hot!" The bed shifted as he rose. He lifted my hands by the carabiner linking the cuffs together. "C'mon, time to get up!"

"What? What time is it?"

"Morning! I wanted to let you get some sleep last night, so I woke up early and came over. Your alarm clock was set to go off five minutes ago. Now, c'mon, out of bed and into the shower!"

He urged me to my feet and led me blindly from the bedroom. I hobbled behind him into the bathroom, and he lifted me into the shower stall and hoisted my arms above my head. I heard water running; a warm spray blasted over me, and I realized he'd bound my wrists to the showerhead.

I yelped in surprise and tried to twist away. Strong hands grabbed my sides and held me under the flow of water. "No, quit squirming, we've got to get you clean!" He turned me this way and that under the shower. When he was satisfied, his hands left me, and the water slowed to a tiny trickle. I heard him moving behind me. "This your body wash? Rob doesn't use it?"

"Yes, it is, and no, he doesn't. Why?"

"Oh, no reason." I heard more motion, then suddenly, his body was pressed against me from behind. I felt him hard in the cleft of my ass, and the sensation sucked my breath away; I squirmed against him in spite of myself.

Then his arms reached around me, and I felt the slight coarseness of my bath sponge on my neck and shoulders and breasts. He lathered me, working his way down, and I felt the warm sudsy water spilling down my body. I felt a stirring, arousal coming to life within me, and writhed against him, enjoying the heat of his body pressed against me , the feel of his arms wrapped around me, my own helplessness. The rough sponge moved lower, over my nipples, and I gasped and pressed tighter against him.

"This marker you wrote on yourself with doesn't come off easily, does it?" He scrubbed harder, almost painfully, over my breasts, and I cried out and squirmed against him. His hand slid around the side of my breast. "You have a little tiny bruise, right here." His thumb pressed into a sensitive part of my breasts, and I yelped. "You must have done that last night when you were squeezing your breasts."

The sponge moved lower, and ground hard against the soft skin of my belly. I felt the lather cascade over my mound and down my legs. "Hold still!" he said, as his hand tightened on my breast, and pinned me more firmly against his body. "You're awfully squirmy."

He bathed me that way, his body pressed against me, reaching around and soaping me up with the sponge. I felt roughness on my inner thighs as he worked to scrub me clean; then felt him kneel behind me as he worked his way down my legs to my feet.

When he'd finished, he rose and turned me around by my shoulders. He slid his arms around me, drawing my body tightly to his, and began lathering my back with the sponge. He traveled down my back, slowly, inexorably, and soon I was whimpering and grinding my hips against his. I could feel the hardness there, and raised myself onto my tiptoes to lower myself on it...

"No." He stepped away and reached over my head, and the warm blast from the shower washed over me. I cried out in surprise, and he held me firmly as he rinsed me off. It felt sensual, but at the same time impersonal, as if he were cleaning a prized possession.

When he was finished, he unhooked me from the showerhead and lowered my arms, leaving my wrists bound together. My shoulders ached from the way I'd been tied, and I held my arms tightly against my body.

"Rob's coming into town today, right?"

"Very late tonight. Tomorrow morning, technically."

"And will I still get to fuck you after that?"

"I-" I had no idea; I hadn't really thought that far. "I don't know. Up to him, I guess."

He took my hands in his, and guided them between his legs. "I think I'll give you a little something before I go. Oh, and we still have to discuss your end of the bargain..."

"What bargain?"

"Well, seems to me that you said if I gave you what you wanted, you'd do anything I say. And I think I gave you what you wanted, so..." His hands slid down to my ass, pulled me close against him. He was rigid between my fingers, his erection straining against me.

"What is it you want?"

"Another show," he said, and laughed. "Tonight. When you get home from work. I love watching you. This time, you'll put on a show just for me, nobody else watching." His hips pressed forward, and I felt his shaft sliding through my fingers. "Only I'm not going to tell you what to do. I want you to do whatever you like."

"But I..."

"No buts. Now kneel." His hand slipped up my back, caressed my neck, then wrapped in my wet hair. He pulled, not gently, forcing my head back, and pushed me down to my knees in the shower stall. My heart fluttered. "Here." A bar of soap was thrust between my fingers. "Soap your hands."

I turned the bar of soap awkwardly, the cuffs constraining my motions. When I was sufficiently soapy, he pulled the bar of soap away from me, and placed my hands between his legs once again. "Make me come."

I curled my hands tightly around the rigid shaft and stroked. His breathing intensified; I heard him sigh as I squeezed tighter. I gripped him firmly in both hands, working my way from the head of his cock to the base of his shaft, over and over again.

It didn't take long. I felt him move, felt him reach for something, then he brought his hands near mine and he shook and gasped and twitched in my grasp. He reached down and pulled my blindfold off in a single motion, and I realized what he was doing...




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 04



...too late to prevent it. His hand held the bottle of body wash, cap removed, against the end of his cock, and as I stroked, he cried out and came. I watched, fascinated as he spurted thick white come into the bottle.

"You didn't!"

"Oh, I did." His knees buckled for a second, and he steadied himself and straightened. Then, casually, he slid from my grasp and swirled the bottle, mixing the body wash with his come. He replaced the cap and set the bottle down on the ledge in the shower. "Just something for you to think about the next time you get clean," he said, and grinned down wickedly at me. "You'll be washing in my come."

My cheeks grew hot and my breath caught in my throat. He lifted me to my feet and unhooked the carabiner holding my wrists together. "Time to get moving! You don't want to be late for work." He rinsed and stepped from the stall. "I have to be going as well. I'll be looking forward to tonight!" He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I stood flustered, watching him towel himself dry; then he dressed and was gone.

I stood naked and dripping in the middle of the bathroom for a long time, not quite sure what to think or do. In my mind, I heard myself begging him to use my mouth; I felt his hands between my legs, drawing out my orgasm; felt his flesh between my fingers... I was still aroused, and slightly overwhelmed, and not entirely sure how I felt. What would happen after Robert got home-would I still be fucking Jason? Would Robert expect me to continue exhibiting myself to him, or giving my body to him? Did I want that? I hadn't had time to process any of the things that had happened over the last two days, but I couldn't deny how much my body had enjoyed everything that had happened...

The writing was still faintly visible on my breasts and body; he had not quite managed to scrub it all away. I ran my fingers lightly over my skin. The marker I'd used was permanent; the ink was faded but still readable. I shivered and whimpered.

The passage of time eventually prodded me to dry myself off and get on with the business of life. I dressed conservatively, long skirt with blouse and business jacket, what Robert liked to call my "frumpy banker's clothes." I put on the coffee and started making toast, the process distant and mechanical; in my mind, I was still bound on the bed, and the image of myself on my hands and knees, mouth open, would not be shaken. I opened the refrigerator, and my breath caught; the stick of butter I'd used the night before, blunted into a tapered cylinder, had come partly unwrapped, triggering a flood of images of the things I'd done in front of the camera. I felt a twitching, unbidden, between my legs. I heard myself whimper, trying not to think of all the possible reasons Robert had wanted me to save it.

The ruins of the clothing I'd so meticulously shredded from my body last night still lay scattered on the living room floor. I made a mental note to myself to clean up after work, and a small corner of my brain found humor in the incongruity-"well, I need to do some errands, you know, tidy up from ravishing myself in front of an audience last night..."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. The normal, day-to-day business of moving other people's money around, attending staff meetings, reassuring nervous clients, consumed most of my focus-most, but not quite all. Some small part of me was still in the bedroom, and that part kept tugging at the corners of my attention. I kept turning over the things I'd said, simultaneously appalled by them and savoring them. The power those words had to become real, the way being told to beg for something made me want that thing, fascinated me. I caught myself murmuring the words out loud to myself, as I tried to understand their power. "Please, please shove your cock in my mouth, I am a filthy desperate cocksucker, please come in my mouth..." I raised my fingertips to my lips and closed my eyes. "Fuck my mouth, fill it up, don't let me swallow, make me messy..."

My phone chirped to announce an incoming message, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I dropped my fingers from my mouth and stared blankly at the phone for a moment before I flipped it open.

Thinking about you. Can hardly wait for the show tonight. J

Before I could flip the phone shut, it chirped again.

ps you look good covered in come

My pussy clenched and tightened. "Oh, you're good," I said out loud, "you're really getting the hang of this."

It occurred to me to wonder how much he and Robert were talking to each other, and how many of my secrets Jason was privy to. The relationship that had developed between Robert and I had grown slowly, with many missed steps, as we had explored what we both wanted; I'd always had a vague need for something different, and always known that the things everyone else seemed to want from their relationships didn't quite work for me, but it took me a long time to be able to figure out what that need was and to put words to it. And Robert, bless his heart-when we'd first met, he held some charmingly quaint and very frustrating notions about the proper way to treat a lady, and had been quite, quite shocked the first time I asked him to talk dirty to me. It had taken longer still for him to unlearn his fear of hurting me. 

Jason, though, was getting the benefit of the accelerated course in ways to get me going. All the things Robert and I had learned over months of systematic experimentation, he was picking up in just a few days; and the idea that there were two men out there who knew and understood my particular tastes, and knew the many secret ways to reduce me to quivering jelly, was delightfully intoxicating. "Oh, yes," I said, stroking the tiny glowing screen of the cell phone, "I am going to give you a show tonight."

The afternoon passed much more slowly. My workload was uncharacteristically light, and my mind wandered to the things I would do in front of the camera that evening. I knew Robert's tastes, though generally he preferred to give me detailed step-by-step instructions about what I was to do during our sessions with the Webcam. Jason, I didn't know as well, and he seemed content to leave me to my own devices rather than telling me what to do. But I knew some things about what he liked, and thinking about how I might use those things brought a flush to my cheeks and a dampness between my legs. Several times, I debated slipping discreetly into the ladies' room and snapping some obscene pictures of myself with my cell phone, to give him a little taste of the evening's entertainment...but no, let him wait, the tension would make the evening so much sweeter. 

When the end of the day finally rolled around, I wrestled down the urge to rush home as quickly as humanly possible. I tidied up my office, then lingered in the doorway for a while, making innocent small talk with some of my coworkers, while the hunger grew inside. When I could bear no more, I excused myself politely and headed for my car.

I did not go directly home. Instead, I stopped at a small open-air café for dinner; the simmering sexual tension was too delicious, and I was having far too much fun letting it build. I relished the idea of pushing Jason's buttons over the cam, and wanted to leave time enough to make sure his own tensions were suitably built up before I started.

I ate at a leisurely pace, thinking the whole time about what I might do once I was home. The tension made the world more alive; my senses seemed heightened, and I was acutely aware of everything happening around me-the buzz of conversation, the sound of the passing traffic, the waiter's voice as he took my order. I amused myself with a brief fantasy about him; a minor problem with the bill, the waiter taking me into the back, demanding payment; rough hands on my body, pushing me into a storage closet, ripping open my blouse; him taking me, hard and fast, in the small darkened space, my body pressed against the cold rough wall...

After I'd finished with dinner, I headed to the same grocery store where I'd stopped the day before. The same silver-haired matron who'd rung me up yesterday took my purchases-six boxes of instant vanilla pudding-and frowned and humphed as she placed them in a bag. I smiled pleasantly at her, and received a baleful glare in return, and was on my way.

Once home, I pulled into the driveway and switched off the car. I suddenly regretted dressing so conservatively; I suspected Jason would be glued to his computer, watching the feeds from the cameras in the house, waiting for me, and I wanted him to covet me, desire me, be consumed by his need for me from the moment I walked in the door.

Which he likely would be anyway, of course, but something a little more revealing couldn't hurt.

I shrugged off the jacket and dropped it on the front seat. Now, let's see, I thought, about the rest of it...

I reached under my blouse and unhooked my bra,. A few minor contortions, and I slipped out if it and set it on the front seat next to the jacket. I unbuttoned the top three buttons of the blouse and spread it open, revealing ample cleavage and the rounded swell of the top of my breasts. Much better, that just about has it... I slid my hands over my breasts, and pinched and tugged my nipples, still sore from last night's treatment, until they stood hard against the fabric of the blouse.

Perfect.

Grocery bag in hand, I walked into the house. I brought the boxes of pudding mix into the kitchen without even a glance toward the cameras, took down some mixing bowls and a measuring cup, and started mixing the pudding.

I could feel the camera in the kitchen staring at my back as I worked. I thought about Jason watching me, wondering what I was doing, horny and frustrated and impatient for his show, and smiled to myself. In truth, I was also horny and frustrated and impatient, and it took all my willpower not to look at the camera.

Three of the boxes of pudding I mixed in a large bowl. The fourth I mixed in a much smaller bowl; the last two, in two tall glasses. To the pudding in the glasses I added much more milk than the directions called for, creating a thick, liquidy goo. It took a bit of trial and error to get the consistency I wanted, and I experimented with the mixture until I had it just right.

I put the pudding in the refrigerator to set, then came out into the living room and swept up the scraps of the clothes I'd worn last night. I set up my laptop in the middle of the coffee table, then rummaged in the toy bag still sitting on the floor next to the couch. I drew out a single object-a squat, thick dildo with a rubber tube leading from its base to a hand pump-and placed it on the coffee table next to the computer, then closed up the toy bag and carried it, humming, into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, I stood in front of the dresser with my back turned to the camera, and stripped quickly and efficiently. Still facing away from the camera, I slid into a simple white terrycloth bathrobe, and tied it closed before turning around. Every motion was calculated to frustrate Jason still more, to make him increasingly impatient to see me do something interesting.

I returned to the kitchen to check on the pudding. It had set in the time I'd been busy, so I placed the bowls and glasses, and a single spoon, on a large silver serving tray and carried it into the living room. I placed the tray on the end table next to the sofa, then looked around one last time, still not looking directly at any of the cameras, or even acknowledging them at all. Nope, still not quite ready...

I swept out of the living room and returned with a large beach towel, which I placed carefully over the sofa. There. I took a deep breath. Last chance to change your mind...

It wasn't true, of course. I already knew what I was going to do, even though the idea made my heart skip a beat.

I sat down on the sofa and opened the laptop. A few quick commands, and I was logged into the server. One user active, it said. Good old Jason; he really couldn't wait.

A couple more commands, and I activated the camera in the laptop and turned on its feed. The camera in the corner of the living room gave a good overall shot; I wanted him to be able to get closer, too, if he wanted to.

I brought up a window on the laptop so I could watch myself from the camera's perspective, and see what Jason was seeing. When everything was in place, I looked directly into the tiny lens and smiled. 

"Hello, Jason," I purred. "I bet you can't wait to see me start doing dirty things to my body, can you? I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little bit longer, though. Right now, I just want to watch TV and eat some pudding." I set the small bowl of pudding in my lap, picked up the remote for the TV, and flipped it on. I curled up and leaned back on the sofa, making myself comfortable, and looked past the camera in the laptop at the television. I flipped through the channels until I found some sitcom or other, and ate a spoonful of pudding.

"You know," I said casually, "I have a confession to make." My breath caught in my throat, and my heart started hammering; I could feel a slow, prickly heat rising on the back of my neck. I tried to keep my voice level, casual, as if I was talking about the weather. "I really liked begging for your cock this morning. That really got me going. Next time, if you really want to make me frantic, you should keep me begging for a lot longer." I took another spoonful of pudding to steady myself, and went on. "By the time you let me have it, I was starting to get worried that maybe you weren't going to give it to me, and oh, my God, I needed it bad." You are giving yourself away, the still small part of my mind said, you're telling him how to get past your defenses, my God, you're asking him to humiliate you...

Another spoonful of pudding. "Mmm, this is really good pudding," I said. I lay back further on the couch, with the bowl of pudding between my breasts, and took another spoonful. "By the way, you ran off this morning before I could thank you for giving me what I asked for. Thank you for coming in my mouth, Jason." The still small part of my brain recoiled in shock from what I was saying. My hands shook; I scooped up another spoonful of pudding, but it fell from the spoon before it reached my mouth, and landed with a splat on my neck.

I sat up and looked at my image on the laptop. "I'm making a mess," I said. I scooped the pudding off my neck with my fingers, then licked them clean. "Guess if I'm going to eat dessert on the sofa, I should try not to get my robe all messy." I untied the belt and slid the robe off my shoulders and down my arms, exposing my breasts to the camera. I sat back in the sofa again and took another spoonful of pudding. No, you are not going to do this, you are not going to defile yourself just so this man can get his jollies...

I shoveled another large spoonful of pudding in my mouth, so quickly that some of it fell from the spoon and fell splat on my breast. I scooped it up with my fingers and licked it off, swirling my tongue around and between my fingers. "Mmmm, I can't seem to stop getting messy." I tossed the spoon over my shoulder, and it fell with a thunk behind the sofa. "I might as well not even use a spoon."

I dipped a finger into the bowl and raised it to my lips. I traced my lips lightly with the tip of my finger, spreading a small amount of pudding on them. "Did you like watching me lick your come off my lips this morning? Did it get you hot to see how much I wanted you to use my mouth?" I closed my eyes and licked my lips. "I liked tasting your sweetness on my lips." My left hand idly caressed my breast. "If I knew how much you like seeing it all over me, though, I wouldn't have been so greedy and swallowed it all."

I leaned forward and scooped up some more pudding on my finger. "And how about watching me take your cock in my mouth? Did that turn you on?" I parted my lips and wrapped them around the tip of my finger, then slowly, very slowly, slid my finger deep into my mouth. The blob of pudding leaked from the corner of my mouth and fell wetly on my breast.

I slipped my finger from my mouth, and pushed it into the glob of pudding on my breast. "This pudding is very slippery," I said. "I bet it would feel good if I spread it all over your cock." I scooped up more pudding from the bowl, using two fingers this time, and rubbed my fingers and thumb together. "It's really slippery." I ran my fingers over my nipple, and sighed as it came erect. "That feels good." I took my nipple gently between my fingers and stroked. "You like watching me do dirty things to my body, don't you, Jason?"

I dug four fingers into the bowl and scooped out a large helping of pudding, then opened my mouth and pushed my fingers deep inside. I scooped up more pudding and shoved my fingers into my mouth again, taking them all the way to the back of my throat. "Mgfh!" I said, a small strangled noise, and coughed slightly; pudding escaped my lips and dribbled down my chin.

I scooped more pudding on my fingers and into my mouth, filling it. Then I dug the last of the pudding out of the bowl, and set empty bowl aside. I ran my fingers over my breasts, smearing them thickly. I caressed and fondled my gooey, slippery breasts with both hands as I leaned back in the sofa with eyes closed. I replayed the morning in my mind, remembering the taste of his warm come flooding my mouth, the feel of it sliding wet and thick down my throat. I swallowed the pudding in my mouth, fantasizing that it was his come. I could almost taste it, the salty muskiness...

That rational part of my brain looked at me from its faraway place, aghast. Look at you! You really are becoming a come slut! This man used your mouth for his own pleasure, and now all you can think about is more come! He wants to make you BATHE in come, for God's sake!

A hot flush of shame took me, and with it came a dizzying, intoxicating arousal. Yes, I am, and I like it. I opened my mouth to speak.

Oh no, you are not going to say it, you are not going to give him the satisfaction, that voice in my head said, no way...

I twisted my nipples hard. "Ohhggh God!" I cried, a part of me startled by my own ferocity. I opened my eyes, panting, and stared directly at the camera. "Oh, God, I want your come! I can't stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes, I think about you gushing in my mouth." My face turned hot and red, shame and humiliation filling every pore of my being. "I thought about it at work this morning, and I'm thinking about it now. I am such a filthy come-guzzling slut, it's all I can think about. I want it in my mouth and on my body and dripping from every part of me, I want you to pour your come on me. Do you like that? You like seeing what you've done to me?" My hands slid, messy and slick, down my body. I drew off the belt from the robe and rose, sliding the robe off and kicking it away. "I'm going to make myself so messy for you, I'm going to show you how much I want your come."

I breathed hard, raggedly, scarcely able to believe I was saying these things. I picked up one of the tall glasses, unsteadily, and raised it to my lips as I sat back down. I tilted the glass sharply and poured the thick milky fluid into my mouth, so fast that it spilled from the corners of my mouth and flowed down my neck, coursing in little rivulets over my breasts and down my body. When my mouth was completely filled, I set down the glass and ran my hands over my body, from my neck down over my breasts, then over my belly and smooth-shaven mound. I spread my legs wide and slid my hands over my inner thighs. Then I looked directly into the unwavering gaze of the camera and slowly, deliberately, parted my lips.




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 04



The thick, creamy mixture of pudding and milk began dripping from the corners of my mouth. As my lips parted further, it spilled over my chin and down the sides of my neck. My mouth opened wider, and it flowed over my collarbone and down between my breasts. More milky goo spilled from my lips and dripped from my chin to splash on the curve of my breasts, where it joined the river flowing down my cleavage. My mouth opened a little further, and the dribble of liquid dripping from my chin became a stream, which poured over my breasts and dripped from my hardened nipples. It spread in a white tide down my stomach and ran over my mound and down between my legs, where it mingled with the wetness from my arousal dripping from my pussy. 

I raised one finger to my lips and slipped the tip of my finger into my mouth. Then I ran the fingertip lightly over my chin, and down my neck. I traced a path down between my breasts, following the flow of the milky pudding, over my stomach where the liquid had pooled in my naval, and down at last between my legs. I slid the finger inside myself and sighed. "Is that what you like, Jason? Is that what you want me to do next time you come in my mouth? Would it turn you on to see your come dripping from between my lips?" I worked the finger inside myself and shuddered. "Would you like to watch me touch myself as your come dribbles out of my mouth? And after it's all over me, will you let me scoop it up with my fingers and swallow it, if I beg you to?" I moved my finger faster. "Please? Please let me swallow your come, Jason, it feels so good going down my throat! Please, I promise I'll make myself messy and let it drip all over me, just please let me swallow it when I'm done!"

My pussy twitched and contracted around my finger as the orgasm neared. No, I said silently, not yet, there's still more to do. I snatched my finger from my grasping pussy and whimpered. As the orgasm, denied, receded, the shame came pouring back, crashing over me, rooting me to the sofa. I gripped my breasts tightly, as if by hurting them I could unsay the things I'd said, and burned bright crimson. I whimpered again as my fingers dug into my breasts. I squeezed harder, focused on the sensation, trying to block everything else out, and the words came pouring out of me as if possessed of a life of their own. "I am such a filthy, desperate comewhore, I can't get enough of it. Look at how bad I need it! I want to taste it and feel it and spread it over myself and lick it up and let it come drooling out of my mouth, and I want you to make me beg for it and work for it and milk it out of you, and oh God, I'm so dirty..."

Show him, the hungry animal part of my brain said. Show him how dirty.

I released my breasts and my breath caught in my throat. I picked up the dildo from the coffee table and clumsily, hands shaking, opened the reservoir connected to the hand pump. I filled the chamber with the milky mixture from the glass, then slowly squeezed the pump until a single drop of liquid swelled on the head of the dildo. I watched it, hypnotized, then brought the head of the dildo to my lips and carefully licked it clean.

I picked up the large mixing bowl full of pudding and scooped out a large handful. I spread my legs wide, hips tilted up, and in one sudden motion thrust four fingers deep inside myself. The slippery pudding squished into me, and I cried out and bucked my hips against my fingers. Then I drew my fingers out with a wet slurp, and scooped up another handful of pudding.

I picked up the dildo and held it by the base, and began stroking and squeezing it, spreading the pudding thickly over the rubbery phallus. I moaned and whimpered as I stroked it, thinking of how Jason's cock had felt between my soapy fingers as I stroked him off this morning. When the dildo was completely covered in a thick coating of pudding, I leaned back further in the sofa, legs still spread wide, and set it down on my stomach.

I picked up the glass of milky pudding and lifted it high over my head with both hands. I tilted my head back and opened my mouth as widely as I could, and poured a stream of liquid from the glass. It spilled out unevenly, and splattered over my breasts and chin and cheek before I finally hit my mouth. I kept pouring steadily until it filled my mouth and overflowed, coursing down my neck and over my shoulders.

Finally, I stopped, and carefully closed my mouth, trying not to spill any of the sweet gooey mixture. I put the glass down, and scooped an enormous handful of pudding from the bowl. I picked up the dildo with my other hand, and leaned back against the couch with my eyes closed.

I stayed that way for a long time, trying to summon the courage to do what I was planning to do. The small rational part of my brain wanted desperately to curl up in a ball and die of shame, and I couldn't stop the small whimpering sounds that escaped me. Do it, the desperate horny animal part of my brain whispered, do it, you filthy whore, you know you want to, this gets you off...

I pressed my hand to my body, smearing the mountain of pudding over my chest, and drove the slick gooey dildo hard into my pussy. My back arched and I cried out, the sound a wet gurgle. I ran my hand over my body, letting the pudding ooze between my fingers, and thrust the dildo fast and deep. It made slurping and squishing sounds, and pudding squeezed out from around it and between my thighs.

The orgasm I had denied was on me almost instantly. I bucked wildly and screamed, sending a river of wetness pouring from my lips and over my face. I squeezed the hand pump wildly, pumping a geyser of thick wet cream into my grasping pussy. The orgasm went on and on and on, wave after wave of raw primal ecstasy tearing through me, unstoppable. I thrashed and screamed and thrust and pumped, heedless of everything else in the world.

And finally, after a timeless time, it was over. The chamber in the dildo was empty; my mouth was dry; and my body was covered and dripping with pudding and milk. I lay on the couch gasping, the dildo still within me, unable to move. My senses returned only slowly, and I moaned and whimpered weakly, eyes half-closed, panting, spent. Finally, I stirred and sat up.

I pulled the dildo from me with a long wet sucking slurp. My eyes focused on the image on the laptop screen, and I turned away, embarrassed. Then I shook myself and forced myself to look back at the image there.

The mess stunned me. My face and neck were wet with white liquid, which had flowed over my shoulders and into my hair. My body was covered completely with pudding and milk, and the slippery mess had been forced from my pussy and was smeared thickly over my inner thighs. I spread my legs wider, and made myself watch, ashamed, as I slid my gooey fingers between my labial lips and spread them open.

Immediately, a river of white poured from them. My body looked as though it had been the centerpiece of an orgy lasting many days. I felt used, filthy beyond all imagining, and the slow creeping burn of shame grew stronger within me as I remembered the only way I'd be able to get clean was to wash in Jason's come.

I shuddered and looked away. You don't have to do that! The rational part of my mind said. Just use the bar soap! You've given him the show, now get clean!

No. The evening was not quite finished yet, and there was one more thing left to do for Jason's benefit.

I rose unsteadily from the couch, sending gooey mess dripping down my thighs. "Can you see how filthy I am?" I said to the camera. "I need to go wash."

I picked up the dildo and carried it with me into the bathroom. I started the shower running, then stepped under the spray and let it rinse me off. I luxuriated under the warm water for a time, not moving, and let it wash the filth from my body. When most of the pudding had swirled away down the drain, I flipped off the showerhead and sat on the bench.

I picked up the bottle of body wash-the one that just this morning I had helped Jason to mix with his come. I unscrewed the cap, and carefully poured some of the body wash into the reservoir of my dildo. "So you like the way I look when I'm covered in come, do you?" I said aloud for the watching camera. "It's only appropriate, then, that I use this dildo to wash myself, don't you think?"

I set the dildo on the bench between my legs and picked up the bar of soap. I turned it over in my hands to lather them up, then turned toward the camera. "Did it feel good when I soaped your cock this morning?" I asked, and began stroking the dildo in my hands. "Did you like watching me do this to you? Did it feel good when I jerked you off into my body wash?" I ran my hand faster along the length of the dildo. "You like making me beg for your come. Would you like to hear me beg you to come all over me?" I stroked faster still, soaping the dildo. "Please, Jason, come all over my body! I need to get clean, and the only way to do that is to wash in your come. Please, please, spurt all over me! I'm so dirty, I need your come on my body...oh!" I squeezed the pump sharply, repeatedly, squirting body wash from the dildo over my stomach and neck and breasts and thighs. "Yes! Yes, come on me!"

I stopped squeezing before the chamber was empty, and rose from the bench. Thick ribbons of white body wash were splattered all over my wet body. This is come, a part of my brain whimpered, this is really come, you're covering yourself in it...

I opened the door to the shower stall and stood spreadeagle in it, looking directly at the camera, giving it the best possible view. "This is really what you like, isn't it, Jason? My body, drenched in your come. How does it feel to watch me wash in it? Only..."

I turned away and picked up the dildo, then turned back to the camera. "Only there's not enough. I still have to wash my face, too." 

I held the dildo in front of my face and began stroking it again, slowly. "My face is all dirty. Please, Jason, please come on my face. Please, I am such a filthy come slut, I need your come on my face." I stroked faster as I begged, running my hand over the dildo, caressing it,. "Please give it to me, please spurt your load all over my face." My hands trembled on the dildo, and I flushed and cringed at the words as I said them. "Come on my face, Jason, please! Come on my face! It's so, so dirty, please wash me clean!" I closed my eyes and squeezed the pump, and cried out as the first blast splashed across my cheek. I squeezed again, and another spurt struck my forehead and dripped down the side of my face. Then I was squeezing hard and fast, blast after blast of the soap spattering on my face and neck.

When the chamber ran dry, I opened my eyes and looked into the camera. White body wash dripped from my face, ran down my body. One part of me wished I'd set up a mirror in the bathroom so I could see what I looked like, see myself the way Jason was seeing me now; the other part was aghast, humiliated at the thought. "What do you think now? I know you like seeing your come on my body. Do you like seeing your come on my face, too?"

I picked up a terrycloth washcloth, and turned on the shower long enough to get it wet. I turned toward the camera again, and began scrubbing myself, working my way up from my feet, my legs, my thighs. I lingered over my pussy, using the washcloth to work up a thick, rich lather. I spread myself open and worked the washcloth directly over my clit; the sensation made my knees buckle.

Then I moved up, soaping my stomach, my sides, my breasts, my arms and shoulders, my neck. My face, most thickly sprayed with the body wash, I saved for last; as I soaped my cheeks and forehead and chin, the burning humiliation radiated through me. You really are a filthy come slut, you like having his semen all over you, you're bathing in it...

I turned on the shower and rinsed, feeling more dirty with every passing moment. I wanted to pour the rest of the body wash in the bottle down the drain, scrub myself again with the bar soap, sandpaper my skin...

I turned off the water and stepped dripping from the shower. It seemed appropriate, really; the very first time he had seen me in front of the Webcam, before I even knew he was watching, I had started the show in the shower; now, on the eve of Robert's return, I finished my show in the shower. I wrapped a towel around myself and turned away from the camera, then made myself drop the towel and turn back. Modesty, after the last three evenings, didn't really seem fitting.

I walked naked and slightly damp into the living room, carefully folded up the towel over the couch, and tossed it into the hamper. I sat in front of the laptop and looked into the camera, my tormenter and lover. "Good night, Jason, sweet dreams." I kissed my fingertips softly and touched the camera. "And..."

I looked away, embarrassed. "And thank you for coming all over me." With that, I shut down the camera feeds. "Good night..." I said again, half to myself, and shivered.

I still had work to do before I could go to bed myself. I carried the tray and pudding containers into the kitchen and piled them in the sink. Minor chores done, I turned my attention to the more significant task of preparing for Robert's return.

First, the closet. I rummaged for a time, before I decided on a sheer white negligee with a plunging neckline and a slit up the thigh. I carried it into the bedroom, set it on the bed, and opened the drawer of the nightstand.

Robert and I have developed a ritual which always marks his return from a lengthy business trip. This ritual requires certain preparation on my part, and I wanted to be properly prepared for his early morning homecoming.

I reached into the drawer and took out a bottle of lubricant I kept just for this purpose. What exactly did Robert's return mean? Had he given me to Jason strictly as a short-term thing, because he liked the thought of ordering me to allow another man the use of my body? Would I be expected to continue giving myself to Jason, or once Robert was home, would that be the end of it?

I squeezed some glistening clear liquid on my fingers and sat on the edge of the bed. I opened my legs and spread the lubricant over my mound, then slipped my fingers between my pussy lips and slid them inside me. What exactly was Jason, now? Certainly not a boyfriend; in fact, not even really a friend, for that matter. Prior to a couple of nights ago, I barely even knew him, and even now I still didn't know him well. I wasn't even sure what to call him. A lover? Sex partner? Was there a difference?

I poured some more lube over my mound and pressed my fingers deeper, working it into me as it dripped between my lips. What I'd said to him was true; I would never have fucked him if Robert hadn't told me to. Yet I had given myself to him in the most intimate ways imaginable, and had exposed myself to him, let him dominate me and humiliate me, and there was no denying that I had enjoyed the way my body responded. The past few days had been deliriously, intoxicatingly erotic; I loved being at the whim of two men, my body a vehicle for their sexual appetites.

I slid my fingers out of my pussy and squeezed another ribbon of lube across them. I raised my heels onto the bed and reached farther down between my legs to spread the slippery lubricant around the tight pucker of my anus. Did I want to continue a sexual relationship with Jason? Did it even matter? If Robert ordered me to continue giving myself to him, I knew that I would; being controlled this way, allowing him to dictate who I would allow such intimate access to me, thrilled and excited and aroused me.

I poured more lubricant over my finger and slid it further into my depths. When I felt sufficiently slick, I squeezed out another dollop of the thick liquid and added a second finger. I closed my eyes and moaned, and pushed my fingers deeper, lubricating myself heavily. 

When I was satisfied that I was properly prepared, I slipped my fingers out and went into the bathroom to wash my hands. My mind flashed for an instant to the soapy hand job I'd given Jason on my knees in the shower, and I shivered. Yes, I thought, it would be exciting to continue giving myself to him. The admission took me by surprise, brought with it a flash of arousal and shame.

I returned to the bedroom and slipped on the negligee I'd chosen. A quick glance at the clock told me it was still earlier than I expected; it was scarcely eleven o'clock, and Robert wouldn't be home for another four hours. Plenty of time to catch some sleep before he arrived.

Appropriately prepared for Robert's arrival, I slipped into bed and curled up beneath the sheets. Whatever his plans for letting Jason have access to me, I would know them soon enough. And I suspected he had other plans for me as well--plans that would keep me quite thoroughly occupied for some time. I snuggled up to my pillow, and sleep came quickly. 



An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 05



The sound of a key in the front door roused me from my slumber. I yawned and stretched sleepily, and the tatters of a forgotten dream slipped away from my mind. Footsteps in the living room, sounds of something heavy being set on the floor, and I smiled and stretched again. I swung my feet to the floor and rose, delighted, and padded into the living room on bare feet.

He was just closing the door, his back turned to me. I crept up quickly behind him and threw my arms around him. "Robert! I'm so glad you're home!"

He turned in my arms and hugged me fiercely, grinning broadly. He kissed me, deeply, and squeezed me tightly. "Oh, Jackie, I am so happy to see you!" He peppered my cheek, neck, and shoulder with small rapid-fire kisses. "I'm so glad to be back home. I've missed you!"

He crushed me against his body and gave me a long, lingering kiss, and I squirmed and whimpered against him. My nipples hardened and pressed against his chest, and warmth and wetness flowed from between my legs. His hands slid up my back; I could feel their heat through the thin, sheer material of the negligee I wore. His kiss deepend, and deepend, and I closed my eyes and moaned and lost myself in it. His hands caressed me lovingly, gently, as he held me in his arms and kissed me; I felt intoxicated, overwhelmed with affection and love.

And then, very slowly, I sensed the change, the hunger spreading through him. I felt it in his fingertips first, felt them tighten, felt his nails begin to drag slowly up my back. It spread to his arms, as they squeezed me until it was almost painful. His body quivered against me; his tongue became rougher, thrusting into my mouth, demanding, insistent. His thighs pressed forward, grinding against me; I felt, even through his jeans, the hardness and need growing there. 

I moaned again, and felt myself giving in to him, sliding deliciously into that place where I was his and wanted nothing more than for him to take possession of me. I trembled, my own hunger growing in response to his, the electric chemistry flowed between us, dizzying, heady, stealing my breath away.

Then his hands took my shoulders and he drew away from me, holding me at arm's length. He smiled a little lopsided smile and looked me up and down.

"You are so beautiful. I've missed you so much. The only good part about being away for a long time is seeing you again." He laughed. "Well, that and ordering you to do dirty things to your body on the Webcam."

My face flushed slightly, and he smiled more broadly. "Do you know how sexy you are? I love seeing you blush." He reached into his pocket and brought out a penny. "It's time."

My heart fluttered and a shudder ran through my body from head to toe. Hot fire clenched my pussy and spread burning through my body, and I fell deeper into the space where his desire merged with mine, and I opened myself up to him and made myself his.

He'd found that penny the night we'd gone on our first date, lying on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. It was tarnished and scuffed, and when we examined it, we saw that it was minted the same year I was born. "Lucky penny!" he'd laughed, and slipped it in his pocket. And now...

Now it was a part of the ritual we played out every time he returned from a trip. Now, just seeing it could bring me crashing into the space that he and I explored together-the place that only a few days ago he'd invited Jason to share with us. Now, a simple little disc of copper made my breath catch and my knees shake, made my pussy throb and drip.

I slipped instantly into my role. Without a word or a prompt, I slid the thin spaghetti straps of the negligee off my shoulders and let it slide down my body to the floor. I crossed over to the couch and knelt naked on it, then lowered my cheek to the pillow, reached behind me, and grabbed my ankles. Robert stood next to me and tossed the penny in the air. "Call it."

"Um...heads is my ass, tails is my..." I stuttered and flushed again. "My cunt." All the time Robert and I had shared this ritual and this relationship, and that word still made me stumble.

He caught the coin and showed it to me. Heads.

"Mmm, you want to be fucked in the ass this morning? Okay." I blushed at his words. He pulled off his shirt and knelt on the couch behind me. I heard him unzip his pants, and I whimpered and gripped my ankles more tightly. My ass jutted high into the air, and I buried my face in the pillow, heart pounding, glad I'd taken the time to prepare myself especially thoroughly.

His hands caressed the small of my back, then gripped my waist tightly. I felt the engorged head of his erect cock press against the entrance of my anus, and I shuddered and willed myself to relax. For an achingly long moment, I felt frozen, suspended in time.

Then, with one long slow powerful thrust that could not be denied, he was in me, stretching me, impaling me, buried to the hilt in my ass. "AAAARGHIIIIEEEEE!"I screamed into the pillow. My grip tightened painfully on my ankles, and he took me that way, hard and slow and deep, asserting himself over me, reclaiming my body. I screamed and shook and thrust my hips back to meet his strokes, and gave myself to him with total abandon.

Soon his breathing changed and his cock swelled inside me, and my pussy twitched and squeezed in response. We came together; I cried out and thrashed beneath him as he throbbed and pulsed and released his torrent of hot, wet come deep in my ass.

He shook and spasmed as his orgasm went on and on and on, impossibly long; his cock twitched and spurted and flooded my rectum with semen. I tightened involuntarily around his shaft, squeezing and milking it from him.

Finally, it was over. He withdrew slowly from me, and I screamed again as he slipped out of me. I collapsed on the couch, my body and breasts dripping with sweat, already feeling the wetness beginning to ooze out of me. "Oh, God," I panted, "that felt so good..."

He pulled off his jeans and lay naked on top of me, his arms wrapped gently around me. I murmured as I felt the weight and warmth of his body over me, and trembled at his hot breath on the back of my neck. He drew my hair aside and kissed my neck tenderly as he caressed my face softly. "Oh, Jackie, you are such a magnificent slut," he murmured in my ear. "You give yourself to me so beautifully." He shifted and settled on the couch beside me, turning me to face him, and kissed me gently. "You are a dirty, filthy, delightful, wonderful little slut, and I love you very much."

I reddened and squirmed and said nothing.

He kissed me very gently and caressed my cheek with his fingertips. "Did you like what I made you do while I was away?"

I blushed and buried my face against him, ashamed, "I don't...I don't really know. I just...I..." I squirmed tighter against him. "I know we talked about it before, but I didn't think you'd ever actually m-make me, you know..." My ears burned crimson. "I didn't think you'd give me to another man."

He wrapped his arms tighter around me. "And did you like it?"

"I don't...I think...I..." I stammered and fell quiet.

He kissed the corner of my mouth delicately. "Now Jackie, tell the truth. Did you like giving your body to Jason while I was away?"

I moaned and whimpered and flushed with embarrassment and shame. "I...yes," I said, my voice tiny. That simple admission made me feel deeply, profoundly slutty. At the same time, I felt relieved at being able to admit it to him, and to myself. I lowered my head, abashed, and nuzzled my face into his chest.

"Okay, moment of truth," he said. He cupped his hand under my chin and forced my head up. "Look at me." I made myself meet his gaze. "I'm going to give you a choice, but you have to make that choice right now, this very instant. Do you want to keep giving yourself to him?"

I opened my mouth, flustered, but nothing came out.

He looked levelly at me, and I thought I could detect the slightest trace of amusement behind his eyes. "Well?"

"I...I don't think..."

He caressed my cheek lightly again, then let his fingers trail gently over my shoulder. "Don't think. Feel. What do you want?"

"I-what... what do you want? If you order me to keep having sex with him..." I felt a rising tide of shame, and tried to bury my face in his chest again. "I will."

He laughed. "Oh, no, I'm not giving you the easy way out. I want to know what you want. Tell me!"

"I don't know."

"You don't know, or you don't want to say?" he asked, getting, as he often does, right down to the heart of the matter. He moved slightly away from me and rolled my nipples gently between his fingers. I sighed with pleasure and closed my eyes.

"You liked being made to show yourself to another man. You liked being given to another man, and you liked the things he did to you," Robert said. "But you still haven't told me if you want to keep giving yourself to him." His fingers clamped down on my nipples, hard, and I cried out in pain. "Tell me."

"I-I-"

His fingers tightened, and I screamed. "I can't-I don't-"

He twisted my nipples sharply and pulled hard. "Hmm?" he asked, his voice calm, level as though we were talking about yesterday's dinner. "You have to say it. Do you want Jason to keep fucking you? Yes or no?"

Wetness poured from me. The pain in my nipples, the wave of shame and humiliation that washed over me, the desire and raw lust burning between my legs all combined explosively, and I came , hard, and felt my face burning red. "Yes!" I shrieked, abandoning my fear and inhibition. "Yes, I want Jason to keep fucking me!" The words felt wrenched from me, undeniable. "Yes, I want to keep giving myself to him! I like..." I took a deep, shuddering breath. "I like being your slut, and I like being his slut, and I like being dirty for both of you, and..." I trailed off, feeling spent.

Robert released my nipples and kissed me tenderly. His arms wrapped gently around me and he gathered me close. "You do like being sexually desired, don't you?" he asked. I nodded wordlessly, safe in his embrace. He kissed my cheek gently. "It's done, then. The choice is made. It's late. Let's go to bed."

I stood unsteadily, and he rose and took me by the hand. He led me into the bedroom, and gently laid me down and crawled under the covers behind me. He settled in against me and kissed my shoulder, and I purred and wriggled backward against him.

"So tell me, did Jason come over last night after your show and take advantage of you while you were blindfolded and helpless? I was packing and getting ready to fly back, so I couldn't watch the cameras."

I wriggled and squirmed, remembering the day. "Not exactly."

"Oh, no? After watching you cut your own clothes off your body and masturbate for him, I figured he'd want to do all kinds of nasty things to you."

"He-" I squirmed again, suddenly embarrassed. "He did. He came over early this morning, and..."

Robert's hand slid around my body and found my breast. He caressed and fondled, coaxing my aching nipple into erectness. His teeth scraped across my shoulder as he nipped me from behind. "And?"

I told him the story of how Jason had taken me that morning. I described how he had ordered me to beg for his cock, how he had made me call myself filthy names as I pleaded with him to fuck my mouth. I could feel the arousal building in Robert as I spoke; he stroked my tender breast more firmly, drawing a moan from me.

I explained how Jason had made me beg until I was truly frantic, and how he'd ordered me onto my hands and knees and finally given me what I wanted. As I spoke, Robert took my hand and slid it between my legs, then returned his attention to my breast. I felt warmth and wetness, and moaned again as I penetrated myself with my finger. I masturbated as I described sucking Jason's cock until he'd come, then how he'd taken me into the shower, bound me there, and bathed me.

Robert shifted behind me and moved his hips against me, and I could feel his soft cock stirring against my butt cheeks. His excitement spread into me, and I masturbated more quickly, moving my fingers in small circles around my clit as I continued my story. My breath came in short gasps as I described what happened next, how he'd made me kneel in the shower and stroke his cock with soapy hands until he came again, how he'd spurted into the bottle of body wash I used, and mixed the soap with his come. Robert hardened at the story, and the head of his cock pressed against the entrance of my anus.

Wetness poured around my fingers, I moved them faster as I described the demand Jason made, how he'd insisted on another Webcam show that evening. I felt Robert's hardening shaft penetrate my anus very slowly, pushing into me as his erection grew. He remained still as his cock grew harder and harder, invading me more deeply.

I felt my own orgasm building as I told him what I'd done that evening. I describe the show for him, told him how I'd used the pudding to defile myself. I arched my back against Robert and moaned as I described what I'd done in the shower to clean myself, how I'd filled the squirting dildo and spurted creamy body wash mixed with Jason's come all over my body and face, how dirty and shameful it had made me feel.

Then the orgasm was on me, and my moan became a scream as I came. The pleasure exploded through me, short and sharp, and was gone in a flash. Robert caressed me and held me as I shook, and kissed my neck as the feeling subsided.

"Good night, my wonderful, sweet, filthy little whore," Robert said, and nuzzled my neck. I drifted to sleep that way, his cock still in my ass, my hand between my legs, warm and safe and wet and dripping with come.

When the alarm clock went off the next morning, he was already up and showering. I turned groggily and shut off the alarm, and he walked into the bathroom, naked and toweling his hair. "Good morning, sweetie! Did you sleep well?"

I stretched and sat up in the bed. "I-"

He grabbed my hair and pulled hard, yanking my head back. As I yelped in surprise, his mouth closed over mine and his tongue thrust into my mouth. His hand went between my legs, and his fingers shoved roughly into me. I squirmed and moaned against him and opened my legs for him, offering him access.

He pulled away, just as quickly as he'd attached me. "You're a mess," he said. "You've got come all over your thighs, and I can still read all those the words you wrote on yourself in Magic Marker the other day."

I looked down in surprise. My inner thighs and the backs of my legs were crusted in dried come. "How did that happen?"

"You had an orgasm in your sleep last night," he said. "Woke me up. When you came, you pushed me right out of your ass. So I figured one good orgasm deserved another, and I reached down and tugged one off."

"You came on me in my sleep?"

"Yep! You didn't even wake up." He grinned. "Go shower. I'll make breakfast." He ran his fingers over my mound. "I like you shaved, but you're getting a bit stubbly. I want you to shave again. Oh, and don't bother to get dressed after you shower."

He left, and I heard him whistling to himself in the kitchen. I walked into the bathroom and stepped into the shower, heart pounding. Last night, I'd been excited and horny and indulging my exhibitionism for Jason's lustful eyes, and it had still been difficult to do what I'd done; this morning, in the cold light of day with nobody watching, it was worse. My hands shook as I picked up the bottle of body wash, and I stared at it for a long time, trying to shake the memories away. 

"Do it!" I said aloud. "You want this. You agreed to keep giving yourself to him. You know what he likes to do to you and you said you wanted it anyway. Now do it!" With trembling hands, I squeezed out a small amount onto the sponge. I lathered quickly and thoroughly, picked up a razor, and shaved myself smooth. When I was finished, I rinsed, and stood under the stinging spray for a long time, trying to feel clean. 

Finally, after my skin had reddened under the hot water, I turned off the shower and stepped out. I dried myself and walked naked into the kitchen.

Robert had dressed and prepared a large breakfast-waffles, bacon and eggs, English muffins, coffee. He kissed me on the cheek and ran his hand between my legs. The sensation on my smooth, sensitive skin made me whimper and squirm. "Much better. No stubble," he said. His fingers gently stroked my breasts. "I can still just read the words, though. That Magic Marker just doesn't come off, does it? Feel all nice and clean?"

I lowered my head. "No."

He laughed. "Feel like a filthy, come-drenched fuck toy? Like I always say, some kinds of dirt can't be washed away. Have a seat!" He pulled out a chair for me and I sat at the table, then drew my breath in sharply and turned away. In the middle of the table, on a small china tray, was the mangled stick of butter I'd masturbated with two nights ago.

I looked at the pats of butter melting on the waffles, the butter on the muffins. "No...'

"Sit up straight! Spread your legs," Robert barked in his commanding tone. I obeyed instantly, opening my legs almost without consciously willing myself to. "Good girl. Now remember, breakfast is the most important part of the day, so eat up!"

"But..."

"Hush, or I'll make you pick up that butter and stuff it in your cunt again right now."

I hung my head and took a forkful of waffle. It was quite good, actually...and the thought made my face burn with shame.

"God, you are so delicious," Robert said. "Look at you! Your nipples are hard."

I whimpered and hung my head, the hot flush of shame spreading. I picked up a muffin and bit into it, all the while remembering how the butter had felt, the cool slipperiness of it, how strongly it had made me come...

I took another bite and ran my fingers between my legs lightly, felt wetness there. I opened my legs wider and spread myself open with my fingers to show Robert the wetness dripping from me.

"How does it taste?"

"It's-it's good," I replied. "I like it." If he's going to make you do this, I told myself, might as well run with it. Tease him with it.

I bit deeply from the English muffin and spread myself wider. "Mmmmm," I moaned, looking directly at Robert. He was staring at me fixedly, breathing hard, and the look in his eyes set fire to me. I threw my head back and rammed my fingers in and out until my pussy started to clench and I felt the beginning stirrings of an avalanche of pleasure, then I jerked my fingers out, shuddering and breathing hard, and looked levelly at him. 

"When you get home from work this evening," he said slowly and carefully, "we are going to watch the movie you made for me. And when we do that, I am going to do things to you. I am going to take you and use you very hard, repeatedly, for an extended period of time. You are going to do exactly what I tell you to while this is happening." I shuddered at his words, and his voice. "Now finish your breakfast and get dressed. Wear your special bra today. I want you ready for this evening."

My hands came up reflexively to my breasts. "Noooo!" I wailed, but the look in his eyes stopped me cold. I dropped my hands and quivered, and felt wetness leaking from me.

He watched me eat, sitting naked at the table, legs spread. I felt hot and flustered under his gaze, but also very aroused, and soon my hand had crept between my legs again. I finished my waffles and helped myself to more, and smiled at him as I carefully cut off a large pat of butter and spread it on my food. "You like what you see?" I asked. "You like the nasty things I did with that butter? Does it turn you on, the way I play with my food?"

He didn't reply. He didn't need to; the answer was written on his face.

I masturbated steadily as I ate, always keeping myself right on the edge of orgasm without letting myself come, then wiped my mouth with a napkin and rose. "I better get ready for work." I smiled and ran my fingers, dripping with my juices, lightly over the butter, then slipped them in my mouth. 




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 05



Robert caught my hand as I walked past him. "Tease," he said. I tried to pull away, but he gripped my hand tighter.

"It's getting late," I protested. "I need to get dressed."

He spun me around forcefully, and I yelped in surprise. His hand went to the back of my neck, and he pushed me down hard, bending me over the table. I screamed and struggled against him, and his hand tightened on the back of my neck. He picked up the bottle of syrup and poured a large pool of it on the table in front of me. Then he shoved my legs apart, exposing me. My breasts flattened against the cool, hard tabletop.

"Lick up the syrup," he said.

I struggled wildly. "Let me go! I have to get ready for work!"

He pushed my face into the pool of syrup. "Lick!" he commanded.

Flushed with shame and humiliation, I started licking. The syrup was sticky sweet on my tongue as I licked it off the table.

He picked up the stick of butter. His grip on my neck relaxed slightly, and I looked up. "No, please, I don't have timAAAAAIIIGGHHH!"I screamed and struggled as he shoved the cold butter hard and fast into my pussy. He pushed my face back into the sticky puddle of syrup. "Lick it up!"

I lapped up the syrup, tears of shame running down my face. He violated me hard and fast with the butter, ramming it into me over and over again, not giving it time to warm up and get soft. I thrashed and flailed helplessly, trying to reach behind me and push him away, but he evaded me easily. Soon, I felt the orgasm I'd denied all morning stirring within me.

No! No! No! the rational part of my mind thought frantically. Fight it! Don't come! If you come, it will only show him that you like this! I struggled against the rapidly building glow, arching my back, squeezing my pussy closed against the invasion, trying to hold it off. No, no, no, you filthy tramp, don't you dare come... I gripped the edge of the table with both hands until my knuckles turned white. "Ggrrrrrrrrnnnagh!" My tongue plowed through the sticky sweetness, and I sobbed and lapped and screamed and writhed. Unbidden, my hips rose to meet his thrusts, and in that instant it was all over.

The orgasm ripped through me, agonizing in its intensity, and I lapped frantically at the pool of syrup and screamed and gave myself over to it completely. I was his, to use as he saw fit, and oh God, I wanted it...

An moment of darkness, then he slid the butter from me and the world slipped back into focus. I was still bent over the table, gasping, my cheek in the puddle of syrup he'd poured. His hand was no longer on my neck, and my pussy twitched and grasped on emptiness. He set the butter, now slightly melted and covered thickly with my white sexual juices, back on the tray. I twitched and moaned softly.

"Time for you to go to work. Clean up and get dressed."

"Yes," I said weakly. I stood and nearly fell, catching myself on the table. "And..." I looked meekly at the floor. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now go."

Time lent urgency to my actions. I washed my face and dressed quickly-medium-length skirt, cream-colored blouse, bra...

My breath caught and I shuddered as I drew the bra out of the dresser. He'd modified an ordinary soft cotton bra by pushing two thumbtacks through it and sewing them in place. He'd carefully filed down the points of the thumbtacks and rounded them. As I sipped the bra on, the blunt points of the tacks pressed lightly into my nipples, barely noticeable-for now. I knew that if my nipples got hard, the points would dig into them, stimulating them, preventing them from getting soft again; and over time, it would gradually become quite painful.

I whimpered as I fastened the bra, and became very aware of the slick, buttery wetness between my legs. Oh, God, I thought, please don't get aroused, this will be a very long day if you do...  I gripped the edge of the dresser until the feeling passed, then finished dressing.

Robert was waiting for me by the door, and kissed me as I left. "Have a good day at work, love! I'll be waiting to ravish your body when you get home."

I made it to the office with only minutes to spare. The morning's workload was quite heavy, and the tears and humiliation and wonderful, delicious, sexy afterglow of the morning's activities soon faded away. I had clients to call and accounts to manage, and before long I was so immersed in my work the anticipation and arousal of Robert's parting promise were distant memories.

The afternoon's staff meeting was delayed, so I took a late lunch. I smiled to myself in the mirrored walls of the elevator on the way down, remembering the naughty fantasy I'd had in the elevator a couple of days ago. I had to resist a sudden, strange urge to pull open my blouse and press my bare breasts against the glass.

After lunch, I returned just in time for the staff meeting. It was a dreadful affair, even by the standards of such things; a guest speaker had been brought in to discuss the possible implications of a possible change in tax law that some congressman or other was nattering about. It didn't take long to realize that this self-described "expert" had all the charisma of potato salad, and even less understanding of financial markets. Several times I caught him staring at my chest, and I found myself laughing inwardly. Yeah, you wish, you gormless bastard.

An hour into the meeting, my cell phone chirped. I slipped it out and looked at it. The tiny screen announced a text message from Robert.

Go masturbate at your earliest opportunity. You have fifteen minutes to have an orgasm. Text me when you do.

Yr obedient srvnt, R

I caught my breath, pulse quickening, and glanced around the conference room. Everyone looked bored and fidgety; people stirred restlessly as the expert speaker droned, and several of my fellow bankers glanced over at me. I felt trapped in the meeting, with no way out and the clock ticking...

I shifted in my chair impatiently. Already I could feel the stirrings of sexual arousal. The speaker droned on, oblivious.

The minutes ticked by. My pussy moistened and twitched and my nipples began pressing into the unyielding metal points in my bra. I squirmed and struggled not to whimper. I wanted very badly to slip off into the bathroom, lock myself in a stall, and strip from the waist down; wanted to run my hands over my silky, smooth-shaven skin, probe my wet pussy with my fingers. I imagined myself sitting down on the toilet seat, putting my feet up on the door, and taking myself hard, screaming as I came, secure in the knowledge that everyone was in the conference room and there would be nobody to hear me.

Wetness overflowed my pussy and spilled from me. I gasped out loud as it soaked through my panties and dripped down between my thighs. The people nearest to me looked at me curiously, and a hot flash of embarrassment shot through me, lightning-quick. My nipples hardened and pushed into the cruel metal. I squirmed again, struggling to remain silent, and felt more wetness leak from me as I shifted. A whimper rose in me, and I stifled it and held my breath, flushed with shame. Please finish soon, I said silently, let this meeting be over, let me slip off and spread my legs and fuck myself vigorously...

More minutes passed. My nipples were on fire, sharp pain radiating in waves through my breasts with every heartbeat, and soon my pussy was twitching and clenching in sync. I imagined myself standing in the cramped confines of the tiny stall, straddling the toilet seat with legs widely spread, pushing four fingers into myself, spreading myself wide as my juices soaked my hand and ran freely down my legs. I imagined how much fun it would be to hold myself there like that, on the brink of orgasm, watching the time, not bringing myself off until one minute before the deadline; pictured myself texting Robert while I was still shuddering and quivering from my orgasm, my hand still wet with slick warm juices. I visualized myself mopping up the wetness on my hand and my thigh with my panties, then sliding them back on soaked in my come. My nipples ached; the thumbtacks pushed relentlessly into them, tormenting them.

The man sitting to my right-William, from the foreign investments division-turned to look at me. Had I moaned out loud? I wasn't sure. I shrank back, feeling like he could see my need, written all over my face, could see how desperately, frantically aroused I was. Another hot stab of embarrassment, and I prayed that I wasn't blushing. I felt exposed, as though I were sitting naked at the conference table; the feeling only increased my arousal, drove my nipples harder into the painful metal spikes. Could he tell? Could he see how frantic I was? Would he say anything to me? Hunger and shame battled inside me, and need burned deep within me.

Forget the stall. I wanted to go into the bathroom and strip bare, then lean brazenly over the sink and watch myself in the mirror as I took myself. I wanted to look my reflection in the eye as I came, so I could tell her what a whore she was as the orgasm ripped through me. I wanted to make her bring her dripping fingers up to her lips and take them in her mouth, and savor the look of distaste and humiliation on her face. I wanted to watch her fuck her mouth with her fingers as her other hand went between her legs, thrust into her, took her to orgasm again...

The other people in the conference room stood, and I realized with a start that the meeting was over. I glanced at the clock. Nine minutes until Robert's deadline; plenty of time. I rose, and headed for the door...

"Jackie?"

I froze, my blood cold, and felt my heart skip a beat. Panic set in as my supervisor crossed the room toward me. She knows, she can see...

"Do you have a minute? I'd like a quick status report on your updated client list, if you don't mind."

I let out my breath; I'd scarcely even been aware I was holding it. "Sure!" The word came out half as a squeak. "In fact, if you like, I can email you a status report..."

"That's not necessary. Just give me the quick rundown."

I stood in the doorway talking to her as people crowded out around us. I gave her a quick and overview of my client list, and she seemed satisfied by that. I looked at my watch as she left.

Four minutes.

With the state I was in, having an orgasm in four minutes would not be a problem. I headed for the ladies room and pushed open the door, quivering with excitement.

Immediately, my heart sank. When the meeting ended, it seemed everyone had the same destination I did; the stalls were all occupied, and several of my coworkers chatted with each other as they waited.

I whimpered, dismayed, and looked at my watch. With little time left, I decided to abandon the bathroom on this floor and try my luck elsewhere. Sheer force of will prevented me from running to the elevator; I made myself walk instead, and tapped my foot impatiently while I waited for it to arrive.

Three minutes.

The elevator doors opened and I darted inside. I was alone in the car; I pressed the button for the cafeteria level and looked at my reflection. She looked back at me with hungry, sexual eyes. "Whore," I said under my breath, and pressed my hand against myself between my legs. She did likewise, and I watched her squirm with desire. "Wait for it," I told my reflection reproachfully. "Plenty of time."

The elevator dinged and the doors rolled open. I strolled through the cafeteria, nearly deserted this late in the afternoon, and opened the door to the restroom.

Two minutes.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm almost finished cleaning in here," the janitor said. "Just let me finish mopping. Won't take but five minutes."

I glared balefully at him, nearly ready to scream with frustration and need. I spun around and left, mind whirling. What now? Parking garage? Sit in my car? I wouldn't make it in time. Back to my office? Too risky. My body was aflame; my nipples ached, and a trickle ran down my leg. The elevator?

I crossed that thought firmly out of my mind. The parking garage, and the relative safety of my car, seemed like the best bet, though it was on the other side of the building. I nearly ran from the cafeteria and down the long hallway leading to the stairway that would take me to the second floor of the parking garage.

Time was up.

I whimpered, wondering if there would be consequences for missing the deadline. The garage seemed miles away; I half-walked, half-ran down the hallway, picturing myself sliding into the front seat of my car, spreading my legs...

I stopped suddenly and backed up. The door I'd just passed bore a small plaque reading "custodial supplies." I tried the knob, and it turned easily in my hand. Heart pounding, I slipped through it.

The closet was small, barely four feet wide and perhaps twice that deep, and lined on both sides by steel shelves. I closed the door quietly and flipped on the light.

My heart hammered. Oh, no, you can't be serious, you are not going to masturbate in the janitor's closet! What are you going to do if he catches you here? What happens then?

I unfastened the hem of my skirt and let it drop. I felt even more vulnerable, even more intensely exposed alone in this closet than I had in a conference room full of people. I bent over, leaning on one of the shelving units, and put my hand between my legs.

Two minutes overdue.

I slid my panties aside. From somewhere far away, the rational part of me screamed at me. No! Stop! Get dressed! What happens if you get caught?

My fingers penetrated the center of my warm, grasping wetness. I sighed out loud and closed my eyes. If you get caught, they'll probably call the police...

Now there was an interesting thought. Oh, yes, I could work with that.

My fingers moved within me as I thought about what might happen if someone had seen me slip into the supply closet, and building security decided to call the police. I imagined the door opening, pictured an officer of the law coming through and finding me here, half-naked, bent over a steel shelf, fingers in my snatch. I visualized the look on his face, imagined him ordering me to stop what I was doing.

In my imagination, I straightened slowly, humiliated, and turned to face him. I imagined my futile attempt to cover myself with my hands and hide the fact that my thin panties were almost completely transparent with wetness. As the fantasy unreeled, gripped my wrist, taking my hand away from myself. He took his handcuffs from his belt and locked them tightly around my wrist, the cold steel circling it uncomfortably. I bent my head in shame, and my eyes fell on his crotch, and I realized with horror that he was rock hard; his cock strained against his pants, and a small spot of wetness had formed there.

He turned me around, not gently, forcing me to face the wall, and I believed he was going to cuff my hands behind my back. Instead, he shoved me forward. I stumbled and caught myself on the shelf. Instantly, he pushed me down, bending me over, and locked the handcuff around my other wrist. He released me, and I tried to straighten, then realized that he had cuffed my wrists around the steel post of the shelving unit. I was trapped, cuffed to the shelf, unable to escape.

"Well, missy, looks like you're in a compromising position," he said, and chuckled. "A very compromising position. Looks like you're depending on my good will to get you out of this predicament."

Without warning, he yanked my panties down to my ankles, exposing my dripping pussy. I began to cry, tears of shame and fright streaming down my face. "Are you going to r-rape me?" I sobbed, my voice quavering. 

"Rape you? Oh, no," he laughed. "I have something a lot better in mind. But don't you worry about a thing, missy. Wet and horny as you are, you are, you'll like it." I heard a scraping sound as he drew his night stick from his belt and showed it to me.

"No!" I pleaded, "No, please, not that!" I wept and begged and tugged uselessly at the handcuffs. "Please, please, just let me go, don't do this to me!"

He grinned widely and stepped behind me. I felt the end of the nightstick touch my inner thigh, very lightly, and run slowly upward. I sobbed uncontrollably, my pleas tiny, as the cool, hard nightstick moved further up my thigh...

Then, suddenly, overwhelming violation as he shoved the wide, unyielding stick deep into me. I screamed and struggled, not caring if anyone heard me, not caring who came to investigate.

He raped me roughly with it, no mercy, driving the rigid nightstick into me fast and hard as I screamed and writhed and tears streamed down my face. He laughed at my tears, and my shame and pain prodded him to rape me harder, faster. "That's good, missy, you just take this big ol' nightstick up your snatch. I know what you need."

And then, in the greatest humiliation imaginable, my body betrayed me and I came, hard, pushing back against the nightstick just as I had against the butter. He laughed even harder and pushed it deeper. "That's right, missy. See? Told you I know what you need."

He yanked the nightstick out of my pussy, and I screamed at the pain. "Now just look at what you've gone and done," he said. "You've gone and got your come all over my nightstick!"

He brought it to my face to show me the juices thickly coating it. "You got this mess all over it. I reckon you better clean it up. Now lick it clean!"

I shuddered, wracked with disgust, and turned my face away. "No."

"Now missy, I don't think you realize the gravity of your situation here. I'm the only one who has the keys to those cuffs. The way I see it, that means if you don't want to make a spectacle of yourself on the six o'clock news, I think you'd better do what I'm tellin' you." He rested the end of the nightstick against my lips. "Now start lickin'!"

I pictured myself weeping with this fresh humiliation, utterly defeated, as I opened my mouth to comply. I imagined the hot tears on my face as I licked the nightstick, tasting myself all over it, and took the end of it in my mouth. I imagined him laughing as I ran my tongue over it, choking and coughing as I lapped up my come. "That's it, missy, get it all!"

With wrenching suddenness, I came. Ecstasy rushed through me, overwhelming me; the thumbtacks dug hard into my nipples, and I clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. I pulled my fingers out before the orgasm was finished, and stood shuddering and panting helplessly in the aftershocks. I brought my fingers to my lips, mind still filled with the image of the policeman forcing me to lick my come off the nightstick he had just raped me with, and I came again as I sucked wetly on my fingers.

Oh, my God, the rational part of me said, you are such a pervert...

I slid my panties back into place and drew my skirt back up, then looked at the time.

Six minutes overdue.

I pulled out my cell pone and typed a quick text message.

Done.

No reply came. I smoothed my skirt and left the closet, then summoned an elevator and rode back up to my office. My reflection smirked back at me knowingly.

Almost before I knew it, the day was over and it was time to leave. My nipples ached and burned, tortured mercilessly by the tacks in the bra; my panties clung uncomfortably to me; I wanted nothing more than to get home, get changed, and find relief from the unending painful stimulation in my breasts. I packed up quickly and was gone.

When I arrived home, I found Robert on the phone, chatting on his wireless headset. He grinned and greeted me warmly. "Hello, Jackie! I'm delighted to see you home. We were just talking about you!" He kissed my cheek affectionately. "Here, say hi to Jason!" He slipped off the earpiece and hooked it over my ear before I could respond. 




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 05



"Um, hello?" I said, surprised and a bit disoriented. Robert kissed my cheek again and ran his fingertips over my shoulders.

"Hey, sexy! Robert and I were just talking about you. He says you two discussed it, and you said want me to keep fucking you. Is that true?"

"Um...I-" A hot flush ran through me, starting at my face and crawling my neck, through my breasts and body, right down between my legs. Robert kissed my neck as his fingers traveled lightly down my arms, distracting me, making concentration impossible. "Um, is that what he said?"

"Actually, what he said was that you love being forced to fuck me, and the things I do to you really get you off. He also said he can't wait to watch the video of you giving your body to me."

Robert moved around behind me and brushed my hair aside, then kissed the back of my neck in the place that makes me melt. I closed my eyes and shivered. He slid his hands down to my waist and unfastened my skirt, which fell easily to the floor. "Listen, Jason, I think I have to go, Robert is getting frisky. Can we talk about this la--"

Robert put his fingers over my lips. "Ssh," he murmured in my ear. "Don't hang up. Keep talking to him. Tell him what I'm doing."

I flamed red. "Oh! Robert just...he just told me to stay on the phone with you. He just took off my skirt, and he's kissing and biting the back of my neck andAAAAAIIIIII!" His hands slid around me and squeezed my breasts, driving the blunt tacks into my aching nipples. "Hurts!"

"He must be biting you pretty hard," the voice in my ear said.

"No! He's squeezing my breasts!"

"Tell him why it hurts," Robert said quietly, his lips brushing my ear.

"I'm wearing... AAAAAAHHH!" His hands tightened on me, and I leaned back heavily against him. "I'm wearing a bra that has thumbtacks over my nipples, I've been wearing it all day...AAAAAIIIIIEEEEEE!" Robert's hands squeezed rhythmically, sending little bolts of electric pain through my breasts and body, straight down to my pussy. I reached up behind me and caressed his head as he kissed and nuzzled my neck. "AAAAAIIIIGGGHH! Oh, God! My nipples are so sore..."

"Does it make you wet?" Jason asked.

Embarrassment hardened my nipples, pressing them more firmly into Robert's hands. "GGGNNNNNAGH! Yes! Yes it does!" I gasped and panted. "Oh, God, it HURTS!"

Robert's warm lips kissed my neck just below my ear, and the tip of his tongue slipped along the sensitive skin. His hands left my breasts and traveled down to the hem of my blouse, and he began unbuttoning the buttons, one by one. "Ooohhh, now he's taking off my blouse," I said. He slipped it off, and his lips kissed my bare shoulder gently, sensuously. I sighed with pleasure and wriggled my shoulders against him. "He's sliding his hands up my arms, and....oh! He's unhooked my bra." I sagged against him and trembled with relief as the bra slipped away. My nipples, free of the torment, jutted out from my body, engorged and diamond-hard. 

"So what are you wearing now?" came the voice in my ear.

"Just my panties, and my shoes and socks...mmmmm." Robert's hands caressed and massaged my shoulders, and he planted a line of small kisses from my shoulder up the side of my neck, then around to my cheek. His strong hands massaged my upper back, and I felt my muscles relax under his fingers. "He's rubbing my back now. Wow, that feels good." I sighed. "Now he's working his way farther down..." As the tension evaporated, I purred. His fingers worked their magic at the small of my back. "Wait, now he's pulling down my panties."

Robert knelt and slipped my skirt and panties from under my feet, then removed my shoes and socks. I heard Jason's breathing change, and wondered if he was touching himself as I talked to him. The thought was deliciously erotic, and sent a thrill through me. "I'm completely naked now."

Robert rose, leaving me standing entirely naked in the middle of the living room. He ran his fingertips lightly down my arm, raising a trail of goosebumps. "Does this turn you on, Jason? Do you want me?"

His breathing grew harder. "Yes," he said, his voice a growl. "I want to do everything to you. I want to fuck every part of you until you can't take any more." His words electrified me; my nipples, freed from their torture, hardened still more.

Robert took my hands in his and gently placed them behind my back. I heard shuffling sounds; a moment later, I felt a rope wrap tightly around my wrists. "Hey!" I said, startled. "He just tied my hands behind my back!"

Robert pulled my head back sharply by my hair. "Wait here," he said in a tone that made me shiver, then left.

"What's he doing now?" Jason's voice asked.

"I don't know. He just left the room," I whimpered.

"So you're just standing there naked with you hands tied behind your back?"

"Yes."

"That sounds really sexy," he said. "I loved that show you gave me last night. You are one nasty, slutty woman. If I didn't know better, I'd say you like begging me to make you messy. If I was over there, would you like me to come on your face right now, Jackie?"

"I..." I hesitated. "I would like that," I stammered.

Robert came back into the room, carrying the bag of toys and dragging a hard wooden chair behind him. "I think Robert's up to something," I said. "He's got one of the kitchen chairs, and he's digging through the toy bag, and...oh!" My voice caught in my throat. "He has two dildos with suction cups on the end, and he's putting them both on the chair so they stick up..." I watched him, eyes wide. "Now he's pouring lube over both of the dildos. I think he's going to..."

"Yes, I am," Robert said. He stood behind me and yanked my hair hard. "You are going to be punished. Tell Jason what you're going to be punished for."

I whimpered and moaned and felt wetness running down my leg. "He's punishing me," I said, and my ears burned hot with shame. "He's punishing me because he sent me a text message while I was at work telling me to masturbate and make myself come. He gave me fifteen minutes, and it took me longer than that." 

Robert drew me by my hair over to the chair. "Tell him what I'm going to do."

I whimpered and choked the words out. "I think...I think he's going to make me sit in the chair, and sit on these dildos, and take them up..." I choked, and a single tear of shame ran down my cheek. "Take them up my ass and pussy. OW!" I cried out as Robert pulled my head back savagely.

"Your cunt. Say your cunt."

I trembled and moaned. "He's going to make me sit on the chair and take the dildos up my ass and cunt." The word came out as a sob.

"How wet are you right now?" Jason's voice was breathless.

"Oh, my God, it's running down my legs..." My knees hit the chair as Robert dragged me back, and I almost fell. He hooked my wrists behind the back of the chair.

I lowered myself slowly, wriggling my hips back and forth until both dildos were poised to enter me, awkward, unable to use my hands. I lowered myself slightly, and felt them begin to stretch me open as they penetrated me. I gasped and cried out as I lowered myself a bit more and the heads of both dildos, slippery with lube, pressed inside my pussy and ass. I struggled to sit down very slowly, and the muscles in my legs protested.

When I had taken the dildos partway, Robert placed his hands firmly on my shoulders and pushed suddenly. I screamed as I sat down all at once, the dildos impaling me deeply, much too fast. I struggled and squirmed and tried to rise, but Robert's strong hands held me firmly in place.

"Sounds like you're sitting down," Jason said. I could only groan in reply.

"How do you feel?" his voice asked.

"Full!" I gasped. It was the truth; the dildos stretched me open, filled me up, pushed their way far up into me. "The one in my p-in my cunt is..." I paused, trying to catch my breath, chest heaving. "Is just a little bit too long for comfort, and it's so deep, and oh God, it hurts..." My struggles ceased as I willed myself to relax, to be still and take it. 

Robert's hands left my shoulders. I heard him rummaging in the toy bag behind me, and felt another rope across my waist. "Ooh, he's tying me down to the chair," I said. He worked quickly and efficiently, binding my hips to prevent me from lifting off the dildos impaling me so deeply. I whimpered and struggled feebly. "I can't move, he has my hips bound to the chair, I can't get up... Now he's tying my ankles to the legs of the chair."

Within minutes, I was completely helpless, lashed securely to the hard wooden chair, arms bound to its back behind me, legs held wide, ruthlessly impaled. I couldn't stop the small noises that escaped my mouth. 

"You poor dear, you sound like you're suffering so beautifully," Jason said. "I wish I was there to see it."

I made little mewling noises. "I...I wish you were here too." The thought of Jason watching me this way, bound and helpless and subject to these torments, turned me on enormously. "I like when you watch...Oh! Now he's binding my breasts..."

Robert wrapped a long length of thin rope around the base of my left breast, each turn wound more painfully tight than the last, forcing it to bulge and balloon out around the cord. "Huuunnnnngghh," I moaned. Jason's breathing changed again, becoming harder, faster. He likes this, I thought, he likes hearing me in pain, it gets him off...

Robert picked up a second piece of cord and bound my right breast the same way. I jerked and writhed and couldn't escape. He disappeared for a moment, and reappeared with something metal in his hands. My eyes widened. "Oh, God, no, please, no, not that," I said. "He's going to clamp my nipples, he's got the clamps and AAAAIIIIGGGHHH!!:" I threw back my head and screamed as the clamps bit down on my tender, sensitive flesh, much tighter than the clothespins had been. 

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. I squirmed and twitched, feeling the dildos penetrate me, a slow painful ache that built gradually, growing stronger and stronger. Every tiny motion of my tightly constricted breasts brought fresh new pain; I panted, breasts heaving, and moaned with each breath. My nipples were on fire, the clamps pure agony.

Robert smiled. "I love seeing you in pain," he said. He picked up a long, thin, flexible rattan rod and laid it lovingly, gently, on the curve of my left breast. "He has the cane," I whispered, "he's going to use it on my breasts..."

A quick motion, then white fire, a hard, deep stinging along the top of my breast. I screamed and thrashed against my bonds. I knew instantly I would bear marks tomorrow.

The stinging pain faded, and a warm glow spread in its place, lighting up my body. My pussy tightened around the dildo and a heady, intoxicating rush filled my head. The pain faded away, and I felt giddy and lightheaded. A whoosh of air and white fire on my right breast, and suddenly I was laughing. I felt floaty, disconnected, like I was watching what was happening to me from somewhere else, describing things happening to another person. "He's caning me," I heard myself say, "he's-AAAH!-he's whipping my breasts, and-AAAH!-I am going to be bruised tomorrow-AAAH!-and it hurts so good-AAAH!" I laughed and giggled and squirmed uncontrollably with every stroke. 

He built me up slowly, gradually increasing his tempo, striking me harder with each stroke. Soon I was unable to speak; I was drunk, euphoric, each lash another wave I rode higher and higher. I screamed and laughed and came, my pussy clenching painfully tightly on the dildo inside me. He released the clamps on my nipples at the peak of my ecstasy, new and unexpected pain rushed through my nipples, driving the orgasm onward, and the world gathered itself up and exploded around me.

"Jackie?" A tiny, tinny voice in my ear from somewhere far, far away. "Jackie? Are you still there?"

I stirred and moaned. I was hanging weakly by the ropes that held me to the chair, head down. Robert had removed the cord around one breast, leaving deep marks from the rope indented in my skin, and was untying the other.

"Yes," I said softly, "I'm still here. That was...amazing." The word didn't do the experience justice. "That was the most incredible orgasm...oh!" From nowhere, a fit of giggles possessed me. 

Robert untied the ropes binding me to the chair and lifted me off the dildos. I cried out and giggled again as they slid out of me. My hands were still tied behind my back, he lifted me by my arms, then pushed me to the floor in front of him. I laughed as I fell to my knees. "Oh! Robert's unzipping his pants. My goodness, he's hard! He's putting his hands on my head. I think he wants to MMMMMF! Mmmmgh! Ungf ungf ungf!"

"Is he fucking your mouth?"

"Mmmmp! Mmmmf ghummmph!"

"You like having a penis in your mouth, don't you, Jackie? I mean, you really, really like that."

"Mmmmm hmm. Mmmmf mmmmf mmmmf!" I could do nothing but make sucking and slurping noises, my mouth filled with Robert's cock. After a while, I heard him moan, and felt his penis thicken in my mouth; I knew what would happen next. "MMMMM! MMMMM!" I cried, and he came, releasing a torrent of hot, salty goo.

He held my head firmly, thrusting vigorously, gushing jet after jet into my mouth. I moaned and sputtered and giggled around his cock until the flood ended and he slipped from my mouth. "Oh!" I gasped. "He just came in my mouth."

"Did you swallow it?" Jason asked.

"Yes. But don't worry, I won't swallow yours, unless you tell me to."

Robert pulled me to my feet and turned me around. "I love you," he said, and kissed my shoulder tenderly as he untied my wrists. "That's all the fun that Jason gets tonight. Say goodnight, Jackie!"

"Goodnight, Jackie!" I giggled, and hung up. Robert took my hand and led me to the couch, and I collapsed gratefully into it, smiling. "Oh, that was fun," I grinned, and tittered. "Maybe I should misbehave more often!" I leaned against him as he sat beside me. "You always know exactly what to do with me."

He smiled and arched an eyebrow. "Do I, now? You don't think I'm finished with you, do you?" He picked up the TV remote and turned it on. "I've hooked your computer up to the television and logged in to the server. We have a movie to watch, remember?"

I trembled as his words sank in and I realized the evening was not over. I thought about him watching Jason take me that first night, and felt suddenly exposed and embarrassed. "But..."

He brought two fingers up to my lips. "Hush." He pushed his fingers into my mouth abruptly, preventing any further protests. Without conscious thought or intention. I leaned back in the sofa and tilted my head up, wrapped my lips around his fingers, and sucked. My eyes closed and my legs opened automatically.

"Good. Much better," he said. I felt his hand on my throat, pushing me back gently but firmly, further against the couch. I tilted my head back further, offering him my throat, and opened my mouth submissively, taking his fingers deeper. "Mmm, very good," he said approvingly. "That's right. Now, are you going to behave myself while I watch you let another man fuck you?"

I nodded slightly, eyes still closed. "Mmm-hmm," I said as I continued to suck lewdly on his fingers.

"Good." He withdrew his fingers from my mouth and took his hand from my throat. "I want you to watch yourself getting fucked and masturbate for me. Don't stop masturbating unless I tell you to."

He tapped on the computer's keyboard. I opened my eyes and saw myself on the screen in gorgeous forty-two inch flat-screen color, sitting naked on the couch, my body glistening with oil. I put my hand between my legs as I watched the television image of me jump at the knocks on the door. I'd been so sure that Robert was bluffing, in that instant, been so sure that he'd come home early and I'd find him behind that door... Oh, you have no idea what's about to happen to you, I thought silently to my television self. A man is going to walk through that door and you're going to fuck him like a wild animal. You're about to get it in every hole, you filthy little whore. I felt a jolt of excitement and moved my fingers in slow circles between my legs.

I twitched and felt wetness as I watched my television self fling the door open, and moaned involuntarily at her look of shock and surprise and fear on my face. Robert shifted on the couch next to me. "Were you surprised?"

"God yes. I didn't think you'd actually go through with it. I thought you were bluffing."

"Are you glad I wasn't?"

I moaned and slipped the tip of my index finger inside myself. "Oh, yes," I sighed.

Robert shifted again as he watched the image of Jason grab and kiss and grope me. "He got right down to business, didn't he?"

"Oh, yes. And he wasn't gentle at all." And you loved it, you greedy tramp, I told myself silently.

"Look how eager you are," Robert said as he watched Jason pull my hair and order me to my knees. "You just opened your mouth right up for him. Do you know what that makes you?"

"A slut," I answered instantly. "A filthy, cocksucking whore." I spread my legs wider and pushed my fingers deeper as I watched myself on the television, transfixed. Robert's breath quickened. "Do you like watching me suck cock?"

"I like making you suck cock," he answered. He moaned next to me as we watched the pornographic show. His arousal infected me, filled me, and I brought my feet up on the cushion and masturbated openly.

Robert smiled and looked over at me as the television image of Jason pulled his cock from my mouth. "You look disappointed!" he said, and slid his hand up my inner thigh. I shuddered and sucked in my breath at his touch.

"I was," I said. "I wanted to taste him. Watch what he does now. This is where he comes all over me."

I stared raptly at the screen with my heart thudding with excitement, and worked my fingers furiously in and out of me as I watched Jason lay me back on the couch and kneel over me. Here it comes, I told the image of myself silently as he straddled me and slid his erection between my breasts, get used to having his come on you. "Oh!" I said as I watched him gush and spurt across my body. Wetness soaked my fingers and I moaned and gasped in the buildup to orgasm. 

Robert reached out without taking his eyes off the screen and pulled my hands away from my body. "No. Don't come yet."

I shook and wailed in frustration, balanced precariously on the edge of the denied orgasm. "Nooooo!"

On the screen, the image of Jason ordered the image of me to touch myself and spread the goo all over my body. Robert watched intently, his breathing heavy. "That's hot," he said, watching as I slid my hands over my oiled body and spread the thick, gooey come all over myself. He put my hand between his legs, letting me feel the hard bulge beneath his jeans, and watched me on the screen as I pushed my come-covered fingers inside myself. I stroked him through his pants, desperately aroused, as on screen I shook and screamed in the throes of ecstasy. "He's right. You do look good covered in come."

"He...told you that?" I quavered.

"Oh, yes. We've been talking quite a bit over the last week. He's been most expressive of his appreciation that I gave you to him. Hello, what's this?"

Robert rewound the movie slightly and leaned forward, staring at the television screen. He watched as Jason took pictures of me, then ordered me onto my hands and knees, and watched as I protested and refused, and wrapped my arms around myself. He reached forward and tapped a key, freezing the image.

"Now, Jackie," he said, "let me ask you something. When you were doing your Webcam show, before Jason came over, do you remember what I said? Do I need to bring up the chat log?"

"I-" I looked at his stern expression, then looked down. "You said a man would come over. You told me to do whatever he said."




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 06



"Ngggh!" My gasp echoed off the tile walls. My hand clutched and twisted my breasts, as I struggled to distract myself from the powerful vibrator buzzing deep within me. I could feel myself beginning to contract around it, orgasm looming, and I closed my eyes tightly as I fought it off. I shuddered and nearly dropped the cell phone; my fingers quivered as I tapped out a message one-handed.

Please let me come!

The answer chirped back instantly. I knew what it was going to say before I read it.

Absolutely not.
Two minutes left.
Do not come.

I choked back a sob. My back arched, and I thrashed on the toilet seat, legs wide, one hand under my blouse. The egg buzzed and vibrated inside me, relentless; warm wetness flowed down my inner thigh. I heard a sound, midway between a moan and a wail, a guttural cry of pure need, and realized it had come from me. I snatched my hand from beneath my blouse and shoved my fist into my mouth, sharp teeth scraping on soft skin. The contractions started again, accompanied by a dizzying wave of pleasure and I whimpered and moaned and fought against it. Don't come, Jackie, you're not allowed to come...

The past couple of days had flashed by in a fog. He had come home, and taken me, and made me watch myself give my body to his friend as he took me; then, after that, nothing. Thursday had gone by without any demands on my body, without any text messages in the middle of the day. 

Friday morning, I could tell he was up to something. He got out of bed early, whistling,  I woke to find him sitting next to me in the bed, doing something on his laptop. He looked over at me and grinned, then calmly outlined how my day would go. Casually, matter-of-factly, as though he were talking about soybean futures or the weather in California, he had explained how he planned to torment me.

"From now until I say otherwise, you are not permitted to orgasm." His hands had slid over my bare skin, caressing my shoulder, running softly down my back as I lay in the bed. "Under no circumstances may you come, no matter what you're doing or what is done to you. You will masturbate every day, once when you wake up, once in the shower, once when you come home from work, and once when you go to bed. Each time, you will bring yourself right to the edge, but you will not come."

"Robert! I..."

"Hush!" I turned to look at him, and he stroked my hair back away from my neck. His fingertips caressed my neck softly, then slid over the hollow of my throat, lightly traced over my collarbone. I sighed and closed my eyes.

His voice, calm and hypnotic, continued. "I'm not finished. In addition to this, you will do without being reminded, you will also carry a vibrator and a dildo with you at all times, including to work. You will masturbate throughout the day, at the times and in the manners I instruct."

"But..."

"Shh!" He brought a finger up over my lips. "No talking. Not only will you masturbate in the manner and at the times I prescribe, but you will also do whatever you feel necessary to keep yourself thoroughly wet and ready for me at all times, day or night, wherever you are, whatever you're doing."

I shivered. His hands slid lower down my body, between my breasts, drawing out a long soft moan of delight. His fingers traced gentle lines over my stomach and down my leg, then along the sensitive inner part of my thigh. I squirmed and parted my legs slightly, offering him easier access, barely even conscious of it. He could play my body masterfully, with just the slightest touch...

"I want you always available, always ready for sex You may do this in any way you choose, by keeping yourself constantly aroused or by keeping yourself constantly lubed up, but I want to know that you are ready and I can lift your skirt and penetrate you at any moment." His fingers worked their way upward, along my thigh, and stroked my outer lips lightly, a whisper of sensation, barely felt. I sighed and parted my legs slightly wider, and arched my hips, subtle pressure back against his hand, the stirrings already beginning within me.

His fingertips ran lightly down my thigh. I stretched luxuriously under his touch. "These instructions begin now. I'm going to go make breakfast. You know what to do."

I turned on my side and opened my mouth to speak, then caught the look in his eye and thought better of it. Without a word, I opened the nightstand drawer and drew out a small, egg-shaped vibrator with a long cord connecting it to a flat battery pack. I rummaged around for a moment and selected a smooth, blunt silicone dildo, medium length, deep purple, with a flared base. Finally, the tube of KY, the one I'd used on the cucumber so many nights before. Had it really only been a couple of days? My sense of time seemed distorted; the trip to the store felt a lifetime ago.

"Good choices." He smiled. "I'll let you get to your errand." The smile became a smug smirk, and he left, humming to himself.

The stirrings grew stronger. I rolled onto my back, and let my hands slide over my breasts. I stroked my nipples, slowly, taking my time, coaxing them to respond, and wondered if Jason was watching the feed fro the camera in the bedroom. The idea that he could, if he chose, watch me whenever he liked, and I had no way to know without checking the server logs, was so absolutely delicious. He might be seeing me right now, watching me tease myself, as I drew up my knees and spread my legs wide, as my hand slid down my body and my fingers parted my folds, as I spread myself open, hips angled up toward the camera...he might be watching, or I might be performing for nobody. I didn't want to know which was true; not knowing lent a marvelous spice to what I was doing.

I pinched and stroked my nipple lightly, and shivered. Wetness dripped past my fingertips. Well, at least that part of Robert's command was done. I moved my fingers in languid circles around my clit, and moaned. I closed my eyes, let my thoughts drift, remembered waking two nights ago with my wrists and ankles bound, Jason's fingers probing insistently where my fingers were now. My breath quickened, my heart fluttered as I increased the tempo, driving myself on, fingers rapidly stroking small circles. More wetness, tension building higher, and soon it was there, the ecstasy ready to crash over me...

...and I cried out and snatched my fingers away. I lay there on the bed, squirming, shaking, on the ragged edge of orgasm, and my hands dug into the mattress as I writhed. "Ngaah!" I closed my eyes tightly and my back arched involuntarily. "Oh, my God, this is going to be a long day!"

I clenched and writhed and beat the mattress with my fists until the feeling subsided. When my breathing finally slowed and my heart stopped pounding, I rose unsteadily and made my way into the bathroom. I glared at the shower stall, images of myself bound there while Jason stood over me...

He did that on purpose, I suddenly realized. He had done that intentionally, knowing that every time I showered, I would remember, and think of him. He had created that association, with forethought, knowing that it would remain-and he had succeeded. He'd won that game, and I hadn't even realized we were playing.

"Clever boy," I said out loud. I ran the water, and looked directly into the camera over the door. "Very clever. You know I'll never forget." When the water flowed hot, I stepped in and let it spray over me. Was he watching now? I stretched beneath the stream, reached over my head, caught the showerhead with my hands. If you're watching, what does this remind you of? Did you enjoy tying my wrists to this showerhead? I laughed aloud. Two can play that game. I bet you don't forget, either...

I soaped and rinsed, still taking my time, giving myself distance from the brink of the orgasm I'd denied. Then, unhurriedly, I took the showerhead from its bracket, set it to the pulse jet I loved, slid it between my legs. My breath caught as the pulsing stream of water jetted against me. A little more to the left, up a little bit, and right there-

The feeling slammed through me like a thunderbolt, ferocious and unanticipated. Just like that, the orgasm I'd bottled up was there, nearly overtaking me in its unexpected swiftness, and I dropped the showerhead. My vision wavered and turned black, and I fought it down, pushing it away, forcing it back. No... My fingernails dug into my thigh and I felt myself slide down the wall. Don't come don't come don't come don't let it happen...

A long, shuddering breath. Then another. My vision cleared as I drove the wave of ecstasy back. I realized I was sitting on the floor of the shower stall, with the showerhead swinging at the end of its hose,; looking down, I saw that my fingernails had left marks in my thighs. My God, that was close, and less than half an hour into this. I'm going to need to be more careful! I straightened, replaced the showerhead, turned off the water. I couldn't imagine what Robert would've done had I broken the rules so quickly.

My body sang with repressed desire. As I toweled myself off, electricity crawled over my skin. I felt lit up, crackling with sexual tension, and I'd barely started the morning,. I looked at myself in the mirror: nipples hard as diamonds, face flushed, body taut with need. Oh, yes, this is going to be a very long day...

I heard the sounds of Robert in the kitchen. Back in the bedroom, I selected my clothes for the day-a dark skirt, ending just above my knee; cream-colored button-up blouse, lace push-up bra and matching lace panties-and laid them out on the bed. The dildo and vibrator went into my purse; I picked up the bottle of lube, and turned it over in my hands as I sat on the edge of the bed. The frantic, desperate near-orgasm in the shower had faded to a dull aching need, and I could feel the heat and wetness there; no need, really, to use it.

And yet...what if work distracted me from my arousal? His instructions were quite clear; I was to be ready at all times.

More than that, though, using it would give me an opportunity to touch myself, to slide my fingers down between my legs, even if only for a moment. I wanted that, desperately, craved the feel of something inside me, even knowing that it could only be a tease, would only make me that much more frantic. So early in the day, and already my arousal was wound taut, coiled inside me like a spring; the knowledge that I had to be available for sex at all times, and that I could not have the release I craved, made the delicious torment so much stronger. 

I glanced up at the camera. Was Jason watching? If so, he would surely appreciate seeing me touch myself again.

I could use the KY, which would let me touch myself, would make sure I was in compliance with Robert's directive, and would give Jason a show, if he was watching. Or, I could get dressed and have breakfast. Looked at that way, the decision seemed obvious.

And, I thought, since part of this was for Jason's benefit, assuming he was watching, might as well really give him a show. No sense in doing things halfway, after all...

I smiled, and reached under the bed for the toy bag. Let's see, they should be right here...  I found the box of latex gloves Robert sometimes uses when he does certain very evil things to me, pulled out two, and turned onto my back with my legs widely spread. I pulled on the gloves and ran my hands down my sides, delighting in the feel of the smooth latex on bare skin. 

Are you watching, Jason? I thought to myself as I caressed my body, feeling delightfully sensual and very dirty at the same time. Do you like seeing me touch myself? Does it turn you on? A few days ago, I was shocked and embarrassed that Robert had let him see me naked; now I relished the thought that he could watch me masturbate openly.

I picked up the tube and squeezed a generous amount of the slippery stuff across my fingertips. Feet high over my head, I reached down between my legs and spread it over my outer lips. The coolness made me shudder, and I stifled a small moan. I slipped my fingertips gently between my lips, then pressed three fingers deep inside.

"Mmmmmghh!" I threw my head back and moaned as the pleasure washed over me. My nipples stood erect, and I pressed my fingers deeper and tightened around them, feeling the thick jelly squishing inside me. Just a few quick moves, just a couple of strokes and the orgasm I'd twice denied would be there...in that moment, it almost seemed worth any consequences. For a timeless instant, I held still, my fingers pressing deep, squeezing around them, holding my breath; then reason reasserted itself and I drew my fingers free, gasping and twitching.

And I was running late.

I stripped off the gloves, tossed them into the trash, and dressed quickly. I picked up the lace panties, debated for a moment, then threw them back down on the bed; if Robert planned to use me later, I thought, it might be better not to have them in the way. Besides, the idea of going to work wet and ready, with no panties under my skirt, seemed intoxicatingly dirty.

I headed into the kitchen. Robert had finished making breakfast, and he greeted me at the door. "Don't you look radiant? I like what being denied does to you." He kissed my cheek, and his hands slipped under my dress and caressed my inner thigh. "Are you wet right now?"

"Ohh...oh, yes," I sighed. His hand slid up, lightly grazing my outer lip.

"No. I want you to wear panties. No bra, though."

"No bra? But I-"

His other hand caught my hair and yanked, dragging my head back. "No bra. Take it off. Now."

He held me that way, one hand in my hair, the other on my thigh, as I fumbled for the buttons and stripped off the blouse. I unclasped the bra and slipped it off, and he took his hand from my thigh and brought it to my bare breast. "Much better." His fingers stroked my breast, gentle, and he tugged harder on my hair.

A dizzying wave of need swept over me, and I sank to my knees, almost without being aware of it. I was hungry; I was horny; I wanted to give myself to him, and wanted him to take me, use me, fill me roughly, possess me. My hands found his jeans, felt hardness beneath them, and instantly I wanted him, needed him, in my mouth, strong hands gripping my head, pushing...

"Oh, no, you don't!" He released me and straightened. "I just spent all this time making waffles and bacon for you, and you're not going to work without eating." He grinned. "Get dressed and eat breakfast." 

I gathered up the fallen bra and blouse, pouting, and walked back to the bedroom. I pulled on the panties, then slipped the blouse back on. My nipples were standing painfully hard, and pressed against the thin silky material as I buttoned it over my breasts, bringing a whimper from somewhere inside me.

I came back out and sat at the table. Robert didn't sit as well, the way I'd expected him to; he stood behind me, instead, close enough I could feel his heat, not quite touching me. His nearness drove me crazy; I could hear him breathe, could feel him just behind me as I ate. I wanted badly for him to pull my hair, put his hands on me, anything. I shifted in my chair, moved back slightly, aching to feel the touch of his body, but he shifted with me keeping just barely out of my reach. 

My skin was aflame. Every fiber of my being seemed drawn out taut. I felt almost painfully aware of everything around me; every bite of food took an eternity, every motion sent crawling electricity through my body, and through it all burned a voracious need to feel his touch, and he did not touch me. I sensed him, felt the heat of him, and still he did not touch me. By the time I was finished with breakfast, my chest was tight with need, and I couldn't stop the whimpering, mewling sounds...and still he did not touch me.

I rose, and he stepped around me and cleaned up the dishes without a word. I expected him to break the spell then, kiss me and send me on my way, but he didn't; nothing instead but silence and aching need. I gathered my purse and laptop, walked to the door, turned at the last instant to face him. I started to speak, but the barest shake of his head, the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, stopped me at once. You bastard, a small defiant voice in my head said, you're enjoying this, you love to manipulate my reactions, make me want you and then pull back, you love seeing me this way.

I backed up a half-step under the intensity of his gaze, coming up against the door. And I love it, too. Slowly, deliberately, eyes locked to his, I brought one hand up to my breast, found my nipple where it pressed against the silky smooth fabric of the blouse. I took it in my fingers, and moaned softly my need, then twisted sharply, turning the moan to a cry. His breath caught. I winked at him and grinned, feeling naughty. "I love you, Robert!" Triumphant, I turned, opened the door, and left.

I was still buzzing when I got to the office. The parking garage was beginning to fill up when I arrived, and I had to drive nearly to the top story to find a parking space. My mind hummed as I walked down toward the bridge into the building; I couldn't help savoring that small reaction from Robert. I smiled secretly at my reflection in the mirror on the elevator ride up to my office. My senses felt sharpened, and beneath everything I did, I could feel an electric current of raw sexual energy.

The morning passed in a heady mixture of delicious arousal and sheer torment. My focus was shot; I found myself reading the same account summary over and over, and my mind kept wandering down dark and perverted alleys. Several times, I caught myself unconsciously opening my legs and rocking my hips on my chair. I felt like an animal in heat; my skin crackled and glowed with barely suppressed tension.

I closed my eyes and fantasized about Jason, and about Robert, my thoughts exploring what the two of them might be able to do if I gave myself to both of them at the same time. I could almost feel it--Robert standing behind me, not quite touching me, letting me feel his nearness as Jason drew close. I could see the predatory look in Jason's eye, the animal desire there, so intense I drew away from him, backing into Robert's unmoving body. I imagined Robert's hands shooting out, taking my elbows, pinning them sharply behind my back; my own sudden struggle, frantic, as Jason reached for me, tore my blouse open, savage. I could picture myself squirming, helpless in Robert's firm grip, arms drawn back until my elbows almost touched, the blouse hanging open, exposing me to Jason's hunger...the feel of Robert hardening behind me, pressing into the cleft of my ass, as Jason slowly and methodically stripped me...

My cell phone chirped, startling me out of the fantasy, and I realized my hand had been creeping unbidden down toward my legs. I blinked, momentarily disoriented.

Another chirp. I picked up the phone, breathing hard. Two text messages, both from Robert.

Excuse yourself. Go into the bathroom.

Send me a message when you are there.

I picked up the phone and my purse, feeling flushed and guilty, like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. I looked around the office, then slipped out the door and hurried down the hall to comply. I had a feeling what was coming next, and my need prodded me on.

The ladies room was empty-thank God for small blessings. I locked myself in a stall-the same one I'd used several days ago-and pulled out the phone.

Ok. Now what?

A pause. I sat there, nervous, aroused, waiting. When no message came back, I started to wonder if he'd received it. I checked the signal strength, then checked it again.

The minutes dragged on, tormenting me. Had he received the message? Was he still waiting? Was he doing this intentionally? The hard seat beneath me was cold through the thin skirt, and I felt wetness drip down my thigh. Still nothing.




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 06



I became aware of my own breathing, there in the silent room. The fabric of my blouse played teasingly over my nipples at every breath, and I felt more wetness roll down my inner thigh as I shifted on the seat.

Still nothing.

I started typing again, convinced he hadn't received my message.

I'm here. What should I do now?

Message sent, I squirmed again. One hand caressed my breast, almost accidentally, warm and firm and round beneath my blouse. I heard a sound, realized it was my own whimper. I crossed my legs, and felt myself tighten with need.

When my phone chirped, the sound was as loud and as jarring as a gunshot. I jumped and fumbled at it, heart hammering.

Put the vibrator inside you. Now.

I rose and slid my panties down to my knees, quickly and clumsily. I took the small egg-shaped toy from my purse and pressed it inside myself, and could not stop the sigh as I closed around it. I was flooded; a trickle of wetness dripped from me and coated my fingers. I moaned softly, the sound amplified by the walls in the small stall.

Done.

This time, the answering message came back immediately.

Turn it on
Highest setting.
Stay still.
Do not come.
Three minutes.

I turned the small wheel on the battery pack. The vibrator came to life, buzzing strongly inside me. I yelped and nearly shot up off the seat; pleasure crashed through me, over and over, each wave bringing greater need with it.

I writhed and squirmed and twitched on the seat, locked in a pitched battle against my own orgasm. My hand slid under my blouse and found my nipple; I pulled and twisted sharply, focused on that sensation, trying to displace the feeling of the vibrator inside me. Wetness flooded out of me, and I closed my eyes and fought.

"Ngggh!" My gasp echoed off the tile walls. My hand clutched and twisted beneath my blouse. I could feel myself beginning to contract around it, orgasm looming, and I closed my eyes more tightly as I fought it off. I shuddered and nearly dropped the cell phone; my fingers quivered as I tapped out a message one-handed.

Please let me come!

The answer chirped back instantly. I knew what it was going to say before I read it.

Absolutely not.
Two minutes remaining.
Do not come.

I choked back a sob. No way no way two minutes there is no way I can take this oh my God I can't do it I'm going to come... I snatched my hand from beneath my blouse and shoved my fist into my mouth, sharp teeth scraping on soft skin. The contractions started again, accompanied by a dizzying wave of pleasure,  and I whimpered and moaned and fought against it. Don't you come, Jackie, you're not allowed to come...

A wail of frustration and arousal, muffled around my fist. The toy was relentless, unceasing, buzzing and throbbing inside me, torturing me. My vision wavered, and my world shrunk down to nothing more than the wave of pleasure seeking to overthrow me and my fight to hold it back. I felt myself beginning to contract around the vibrator again, and the contraction only amplified the vibration.

"Nnnngh!" I bucked and thrashed again, and my hands fell to my thighs. I pulled my legs apart savagely. My fingers tightened, and my nails dug into the soft skin of my inner thighs; the cell phone, forgotten, tumbled to the floor. Hold it hold it don't come you can do this hold it! My mind flashed back to my fantasy, Robert holding me as Jason pressed against me, his hands hard on my breasts, and I nearly lost the struggle. Heat and a rush between my legs, the orgasm almost coming through...

No! The word came out loud, and I flushed. Don't you come! The vibrator buzzed and pounded. I closed my eyes and breathed hard through the sensations. Sweat dripped from my face, and I raised my knees and bent over nearly double. My teeth sank into my leg, just inside my knee...something, anything, to distract me from the vibrator. 

My phone, forgotten on the floor, chirped.

My eyes flew open and I stared down uncomprehendingly at the screen.

Time's up.
Turn off the vibrator.

Relief swept over me. I turned off the egg and pulled it out of me with a wet slurp. Immediately, I felt empty and bereft. I rocked back and forth on the toilet seat, quivering, my body dripping sweat, tears of relief and need and desperation streaming down my face. I was far beyond the point of caring if anyone came in and heard me; I needed, wanted,  and hated the idea of something inside me to ease this emptiness. Even now, the orgasm was still threatening to burst over me, take me without the aid of the vibrator or any touching at all, and I almost didn't care whether or not it did. It would be so easy...just a quick tightening of the muscles, just a little squeeze, and then blissful ecstasy, and an end to the need...

The phone chirped a message. I picked it up and looked at it blearily.

Time to go to lunch. Text me when you're finished.

I sat there for several more minutes, cooling off, and let my breathing return to normal. My inner thighs burned, and I saw I'd left marks there with my fingernails.

Finally, I pulled the panties back up and rose. My legs buckled beneath me, and I caught myself to keep from falling. Cool tile pressed against my breasts, and I dragged my nipples across the unyielding wall as I straightened.

I washed my face quickly in the sink, then straightened my clothes. Denial did wonderful things to my appearance, if nothing else; my skin shone, and the reflection of my body glowed in the mirror.

I walked, still slightly unsteady, to the elevator and rode it down to the first floor. The car was filled with people, all of them heading to lunch; several of my coworkers exchanged pleasantries as I boarded the elevator. I nodded and smiled and tried not to whimper. A tiny part of my mind panicked for an instant-They can see, they can tell, they know what you need-and with that thought came, paradoxically,  a strange rush of euphoria. I shuddered and pushed it and the panic back down, and waited patiently for the elevator doors to open.

Lunch passed quickly. I ate alone at a small table in the corner of the cafeteria and daydreamed thoughts of carnal desire. Disjointed images danced idly through my head: Robert's gentle caress this morning; Jason's hands twined through my hair, holding me down; the feel of the leather couch beneath my bare skin as I opened my legs and masturbated for the camera. I smiled secretly to myself, felt wetness down in the warm recess between my legs.

After I'd finished eating, I pulled out my cell phone and tapped a message.

I'm finished with lunch. What would you like me to do now?

Robert's answer came very quickly. 

I want to see that you're keeping yourself ready for me.

Go somewhere private. Spread your legs. Take a picture. Show me how wet you are.

The words made me shudder. I suppressed the small squeal and, heart pounding, slipped into the ladies' room. In the stall, I stripped my panties off quickly, and hiked the skirt up obscenely. I stood with my legs spread wide, slipped my cell phone down between my knees, and snapped a picture.

The image sent an electric shock down my back. White, milky wetness spilled from between my lips, and a small bead of my juices trickled down my thigh. My clit was engorged and erect. I moaned aloud, and fumbled slightly at the keys of the phone as I sent the obscene picture on its way to Robert.

The phone chirped in my hand.

Very nice. Put your panties back on. Go back to your office. Text me when you're there.

I dressed, smoothed down my skirt, and headed back to my office. Many of my fellow workers were still at lunch, and the couple who were not scarcely even looked up as I slipped through the door. 

I'm here. What now?

The reply came back instantly.

Close the door. Unbutton your shirt. Use your office phone to call this number. When it's answered, describe what you are doing and what you are. Be detailed and explicit. Say the filthiest things you can think of.

I didn't recognize the telephone number at the end of the message. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart thudded.

Whose number is it?

A few agonizing moments later, the phone chirped.

Don't worry about it. Do as I say.

I shuddered and whimpered; my heart felt like it would surely leap from my chest. Heat rose in my cheeks. I locked my office door, pressed the "do not disturb" button on the telephone at my desk, and sat heavily in my chair. My hands shook as I fumbled clumsily at the buttons of my blouse. It's probably just his number, some company internal routing thing I don't know about, he's just getting me riled up... My breathing came heavy as I finished unbuttoning the blouse and pulled it open. My breasts dangled heavily, exposed, and I felt stripped and naked, vulnerable, embarrassed.

It's his number, I told myself,  he wouldn't make me call some random stranger...

The hell he wouldn't, the rational part of my brain answered. He made you expose yourself on the Webcam to another person! He made you have SEX with another person! You really believe he wouldn't make you talk dirty to another person?

I picked up the cradle of the telephone and clutched it tightly. I'll dial the number, I said to myself. I'll just dial the number, and see who answers. If it's not him, I'll just hang up, that's all. He wouldn't tell me to make an obscene phone call to some random person. That wouldn't be right. So I'll just dial the number, and it will be him on the other end.

My cell phone chirped, and I jumped and dropped the handset. I stared at the screen.

One more thing. Touch yourself during the phone call. Fondle your breasts.

I gulped and picked up the handset. Slowly, I forced myself to dial the number Robert had given me. It's going to be him, it's going to be him, the mantra ran in my head, over and over again.

The phone rang. I trembled and held my breath.

Again. Maybe nobody will answer. Again.

Another ring. Then, a click. My heart dropped, and my stomach did flip-flops. A synthesized mechanical voice came on the line: "There is no one available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone. When you are finished, hang up, or press star for delivery options."

No clues, no identification in the message. I whimpered again; the sound reached my ears from somewhere far away. A mechanical beep sounded from the handset.

I took a deep breath. Hang up the phone! screamed the embattled rational part of my brain. Don't leave a recording! You don't even know who this number belongs to!

I cleared my voice uncertainly. "Um, hello. I..." My voice sounded quavery and hoarse. "Um, I'm not entirely sure who I'm talking to. This might sound a little strange, but I was told to call this number and..."I took a deep breath and struggled to form the words. "I was told to..." I shifted in my chair, and felt wetness soaking my panties. I leaned back slightly and brought my hand to my breast. My nipple was painfully hard; I rolled it between my fingers and sighed. "I was told to call this number and describe what a dirty slut I am."

No way out now.

Blushing furiously, heat and shame crawling down my body, I made myself speak. "I am sitting in my office right now with my blouse hanging open, fondling my breasts. I am a filthy, desperately horny,, sex-starved whore." My face burned; from somewhere far away, the rational part of my mind looked at me aghast. "I-" I gulped, and my voice caught in my throat. "I'm dripping wet right now, because I've been masturbating all day but I am not allowed to come. And being made to tell you these things, even though I don't even know who you are, is..." I shivered and slid my hand over my breast. "Is making me wetter."

As soon as the words left my mouth, the truth behind them hit me full force. The floodgates opened; my pussy twitched and my juices saturated the thin fabric of my panties and poured down my thigh. I moaned and closed my eyes, and leaned back farther in the chair. I ran my hand up over the curve of my breast, then higher, over my throat, along the side of my neck, and moaned again. All these elements-the filthy talk, the forced exhibition, performing for someone else-all these things were familiar, things I had explored before, but put together in this way, they were electrifying and new. The rational voice inside me fled as I surrendered completely to the heat.

"Oh, God," I sighed, "I am a filthy little fuck toy. I love masturbating for people I don't even know. I love being told to write filthy things on my body. I love sucking cock, I love being given to another man and ordered to let him have my body..." The words came pouring effortlessly out of me. I caressed myself and fondled my breasts, eyes closed, intoxicated by the act of spilling these intimate secrets into the phone, to the unknown person who would hear the message. 

I ran my fingertips lightly over my body and down over my legs. The feeling, a whisper of sensation over hungry skin, made me shudder. I lifted my skirt and traced the contours of my labia through my panties, feeling warmth and dampness. "Mmm," I said, as I cradled the telephone handset like a lover, "I want you to know I feel very, very dirty right now." I pressed my fingers beneath my panties and slid them deep inside myself. "Unh! I have my fingers in my cunt, and oh, God, it feels good." I worked my fingers in, and gasped. "My cunt is shaved bare. I feel filthy telling you all this, like a dirty well-fucked tramp. Oh!" I withdrew my fingers and ran them up my body, over my breasts, leaving two trails of wetness on my bare skin. "My fingers are dripping with my juices. God, my body is aching to be stripped bare and tied down and used for sex." I raised my fingertips to my mouth, parted my lips, and extended my tongue slightly to meet them. "I can taste myself all over my fingers." I wrapped my lips around my fingers and drew them in deep, slurping noisily. "I love sucking a cock after I've just been fucked. It tastes so-"

The handset beeped. "Message limit reached," came the metallic voice. "You may hang up or press star for delivery options."

I jumped slightly and hung up the phone. In that instant, all the embarrassment and shame that had gone to places unknown while I'd been talking came sweeping back over me like an inferno. My ears, face, and neck burned hot and red. I snatched my fingers away from my lips and stared at them like they were detached from me, some alien things that had landed here from nowhere. My thighs were soaked; my nipples were aflame; my body quivered and hummed, crackling with tension and shame.

A sudden need to cover myself rushed over me. I closed my blouse with shaking hands; it took three tries before I could button it back up again. My nipples strained against the cloth,. I smoothed down my skirt and sat panting. I can't leave the office! I probably smell like sex! Anyone who looks at me will know what state I'm in.

The thought brought a twitch between my legs. Arousal, mixed with the shame, the peculiar psychology of my sexuality asserting itself the way it always did...

...and I still had to let Robert know I'd done as I'd been told.

I picked up my cell phone.

Done.
I feel dirty.
Whose phone number was that?

No reply came. Minutes ticked by. The shame ebbed, and the needs of my workday life pressed in to replace it. I unfolded from the chair and unlocked my office door. Outside, people were returning to their cubicles from lunch. The office filled with the sounds of people being productive. 

I returned to my desk and turned my attention, as best I could, to the demands of work. I had even more trouble focusing than I had before; the greater part of my mind was occupied processing the message I had just left. For reasons I did not completely understand, calling that phone number and leaving that message for a mystery audience made me even more uncomfortable than I had been when Robert had told me there was someone else watching as I masturbated on my Webcam. I really did feel dirty, and exposed in a way I hadn't felt on the camera.

And yet...

And yet I was incredibly, powerfully aroused. I caught my hand surreptitiously creeping between my legs as I thought about the things I'd said. My mind drifted; I remembered how Robert had made me talk to Jason and describe what was happening as he'd taken me, and wondered what it would be like to leave a message on a stranger's voice mail while Robert fucked me. I thought, too, about calling that number, and letting the voice mail record as I masturbated to orgasm, and shared myself in so intimate and vulnerable way with this person I did not know.

The afternoon passed in a haze of lust, arousal, and distraction. Quitting time was on me before I was even aware of it. A giddy, tingling sense of shame washed over me-you'll have to walk by everyone in the office! They'll be able to tell!-and my nipples hardened under my blouse.

I packed up and left quickly, scarcely saying goodbye to anyone,  feeling self-conscious. In the parking garage, I glanced up at the security camera, and felt a tingle between my legs. A brief sexual fantasy flashed through my head-hands on my body, ripping off my clothes, teeth on my neck, a quick hot passionate fuck standing up against the concrete pillar supporting the ceiling, while the security guard watched from his booth-and then I was in my car and navigating through traffic.

"Robert! I'm home!" I sang when I walked through the door. "Are you going to tell me who you made me call this afternoon?"

He met me at the door with a grin on his face. He was wearing a button-up dress shirt, slacks, a narrow black necktie. "No." A fierce and unexpected kiss choked off any further questions, and I gave myself over to it, I returned the kiss hungrily, greedily, arms wrapped tightly around him, and whimpered my need and desire. It went on and on and on, that kiss, and I moaned and ground against him and feared that I would come right there.

Finally he broke the kiss and I panted and stared wordlessly at him. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me further into the house. I let out a shriek of surprise, but he did not respond at all; he merely kept pulling me, fingers tight in my hair, through the living room and into the study.

"Are you a good girl? Have you been doing as you're told?" Before I could answer, he spun me around and bent me over the huge antique roll-top desk that was one of his prized possessions. "Let's find out."

I gripped the edge of the desk and stayed there, amid the scent of hardwood and old books, as he pulled my skirt up over my ass. I heard him unzip his slacks, then he pulled my panties aside and in one deep thrust he was inside me. I screamed and closed around him and oh, God, it felt good. His hands gripped my thighs tightly and he began taking me in long, hard strokes. I moaned and pushed back against him, accepting him deeper, and slipped one hand between my legs. I stroked my fingers over my clitoris, obeying his directive to masturbate as soon as I came home, "May I come? Please?" I asked, barely able to speak through the ripples of pleasure that accompanied every thrust.

He didn't reply, but grunted as he moved faster, taking me hard across his desk. I heard his breathing quicken and felt him harden and swell within me, and I knew he was close. "Please, please let me come!" I sobbed, my fingers still moving in rapid circles around my clit.

He threw back his head and roared as he slammed into me, and I felt the hard wet slap of his orgasm gushing deep within me. I screamed and gripped the edge of the desk with both hands and fought against my own orgasm, and behind me I felt his hands tighten on my hips as he pounded me and shook with ecstasy.




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 06



Then he was finished and he withdrew from me without warning. I cried out, suddenly empty, and felt his come spill out of me. I remained there, leaning over the desk, gasping, wanting him so desperately to plunge into me again, fill me, take me roughly, grant me release. "Please... please..."

He slid my panties back into place. "Not now. I have a surprise for you. Look down."

"What kind of surprise?" I asked, with more than a hint of trepidation.

"Look!"

I looked at the assortment of papers and books on the desk beneath me, a little off-stride. "I don't get it-oh!"

There, sitting on top of a stack of papers, two long, thin cardboard rectangles-tickets, to the performing arts center. "You didn't!"

I did," he said smugly. "I also got us reservations at a restaurant downtown. We need to go in-" He looked at his watch. "Right now. Come on."

"I need to take a shower first. In case you hadn't noticed, I've just been fucked, and I'm a little messy."

"No. No time." He zipped his pants and smirked. "We need to leave right now."

"Robert! I'm-"

"-a dripping, come-filled mess," he finished. The smug, self-satisfied grin widened. "And I'm hungry. Let's go."

'You look awfully pleased with yourself, " I said. He didn't answer; I straightened, and felt his warm wet begin to drip out of me almost immediately. "I hope you're satisfied." I ached with need and frustration.

"I'm sure I will be," he smirked.

The drive downtown was uneventful at first. Robert navigated us toward the freeway in silence, still wearing that maddening smirk. I squirmed on the leather seat and struggled to keep my composure.

We pulled onto the freeway and merged into traffic. I looked out the window into darkness, and watched the other cars stream around us. His hand touched my knee. "You are so sexy," he said, and gently coaxed my knees apart. I obliged him, and spread my legs wide in the car seat beside him.

"Two fingers inside yourself."

I closed my eyes and settled back in the seat. I slid my hands down my body, over my breasts, and felt my heat through my blouse. I shivered in anticipation as my hands crept lower. I slipped one hand up my thigh, under my skirt, and I felt my breath quicken. My fingers caressed my panties, completely soaked through. I leaned back further and let my fingers slide my panties aside. I sighed, my fingers poised quivering at the entrance to my dripping wet opening, and slowly, slowly pressed them in.

"Mmmm." I moaned softly.

"Does it feel good?"

"Oh, yes."

"Move your fingers."

I began working my fingers in long, slow, soft strokes. Time contracted around me; I heard the wind rushing by outside the car, felt the movement and vibration, felt the wetness around my fingers, sensed his nearness next to me, felt the heat and weight of his hand on my knee, heard the steady soft sounds of his breathing and my own heart beating. The world folded close around me in this small, intimate space; no cameras, no watching eyes, just the two of us and the moving darkness outside. I felt  owned, possessed, cherished, loved. My fingers, extensions of his will, moved in circles within me. "May I?"

"No." 

I accepted the denial without disappointment or regret. It seemed fitting, in this warm intimate space; I was his lover, his plaything, his toy, exactly as I wanted to be. My fingers continued their leisurely strokes, drawing a shudder at each delicious thrust. My sighs filled the car, and I heard his breathing quicken, sexual energy vibrating between us like a plucked cord.

I remained there in that place as he turned off the freeway and guided the car through the narrow downtown streets. He maneuvered the car into a parking space along the street. "Stop now."

I slid my fingers out of myself with a tiny sharp pang of disappointment. They were thickly coated in a white sheen of his come and my own excitement. "Clean them," he commanded. Without hesitation, I put them in my mouth, savoring the combined taste.

He got out and walked around the car as I licked my fingers clean, and opened my door for me. I hook his arm, and his hand casually grazed my nipple as I stood, drawing a gasp from me. He escorted me into the restaurant, and I flushed, keenly aware of my arousal. Inside, Robert spoke with the maitre d,' who seemed more inclined to look at my breasts than at him. I flushed again, suddenly self-conscious of how they swayed freely beneath my blouse, and how prominently my erect nipples stood. I moved to step behind Robert, but he seemed to anticipate me almost telepathically; smoothly, subtly, he slipped his hand behind my back and drew me alongside him, preventing me from hiding, presenting me to the leering eyes of the restaurant host. I struggled not to squirm or betray any outside sign of my discomfort. Inwardly, my emotions roiled,  just as they had when I first found out that Robert had exposed me to Jason.

An eternity passed. Finally, the maitre d' was satisfied with the state of Robert's reservations, and escorted us to a small, secluded booth. With a last lingering glance at my breasts, he departed. Robert smiled at me across the table. "You look ravishing, my dear. Everyone who sees you wants to fuck you."

I blushed and looked down, pretending to study the wine list. 

Our server arrived, an attractive young woman with long blond hair and a bright, cheerful disposition. Robert flirted outrageously with her, asked her questions about wine and the day's specials, and generally made himself charming as hell. The distraction gave me a chance to pull together some of my composure, and by the time he'd ordered wine and appetizers, the embarrassment and arousal had cooled to a background buzz.

The wine came, followed by appetizers. Robert poured me a glass, then another. By the time the food arrived, I was enveloped in the warm glow of my third. He gazed levelly at me and refilled my glass.

"My dear sir," I giggled, lightheaded and floaty, "are you attempting to intoxicate me so as to take advantage of me?"

His eyes did not leave mine, and his face betrayed nothing. I felt his foot, bare, slide up my shin and nudge my legs apart. I spread them open for him, and his foot grazed my inner thigh, then moved higher. Soon his toe pressed against the source of my dampness. I sighed and closed my eyes, and spread my legs still further, offering myself to him. His toe pressed firmly against my most sensitive places, and I pressed myself to him and moaned. Heat and need and desire took hold, and for a moment I pictured myself crawling beneath the table, seeking what I knew I would find, my hands unzipping his pants, lips and tongue ready for his cock...

"Look at you," he said. "You need it so badly. You want to be laid out and fucked right here, don't you?" His toe followed the line of my panties, up over my clit. "Answer me."

"Yes," I sighed. "That is exactly what I want."

 "Would you like anything else?"

My eyes flew open. The cheerful blonde waitress stood next to the table. If she'd heard our exchange, her face didn't show it. She stood politely, waiting for me to answer.

I flushed crimson. "What? I-" Robert's toe continued to move distracting against me. "No, no, I'm fine, thanks."

"And you, sir?"

His nimble toes pulled my panties aside, and I shuddered as his big toe penetrated me partway. "I'm fine, too, thanks," he said pleasantly. 

She smiled and moved off. My face burned hot. "Why do you do that to me?" I sputtered.

"Because you love it," he answered. His feet pushed my legs farther apart, and his toe returned to the business of teasing and tormenting me. I gasped a little and sighed again involuntarily. My arousal had a new edge to it; even as I pressed myself to his toe, I could not shake the feeling that this was obvious, that everyone in the restaurant must know what he was doing to me.

He continued throughout the rest of the meal. I felt playful and slutty and deliciously naughty, as he had sex with me in this oblique way right in the middle of the crowded restaurant. By the time the plates had been cleared away and my last glass of wine had been finished, I no longer cared if the waitstaff realized what we were doing. Robert played me expertly, keeping me hovering on the edge of losing control without ever losing control of me, letting me keep just enough composure for the sake of decorum while inwardly I roiled and whimpered and begged to be fucked.

Finally the check arrived, and his toe slipped away. He smiled at my response. "You look so disappointed, Jackie!" He proffered his credit card, signed the check, and rose. "Shall we?" As he offered me his arm, one hand lightly brushed my cheek, and his fingers trailed over my lips. He pushed a fingertip into my mouth, briefly, causing my heart to flutter, and he smiled at my whimper. "Let's go."

I expected him to lead me to the car, but instead he turned down the sidewalk. "It's a gorgeous evening, and the performing arts center is only a few blocks away. Shall we walk?" I pressed against him and he put his arm around my shoulders; the closeness of his body amplified my longing.

Our destination was, as promised, only a few blocks away. The street was only sparsely populated; most of the businesses-upscale designer stores, a couple of jewelry stores, a Lexus dealership-were closed for the night. We joined a small cluster of well-dressed men and women outside the center; Robert had controlled the timing of our arrival as precisely as he'd controlled everything else this evening, and the patrons were just being seated.

To this day, I have no idea what play we saw.

The crowd was light; the seats immediately around us were vacant. Robert rested his hand on my bare knee, and as the lights over the audience went down, his hand crept, imperceptibly at first, up my leg. Just that light touch was an almost unbearable distraction, causing the performance on the stage to recede far into the distance. Every so often, Robert would lean close to me, his breath hot on my cheek, and whisper into my ear, calling me filthy names. I squirmed and fidgeted in my seat and longed for him.

It went on and on and on, that teasing. His fingers lightly stroked my thigh, his quiet voice murmured hints and promises of obscene pleasures he wished to take from my body, and I sat next to him and quivered with need. Finally, his hand left my knee, and his arm slipped around my shoulders. "Why, Jackie, you look to be in quite a state," he said casually. "I bet you'd like to come this evening, wouldn't you?"

The audience stirred; somewhere far away, on a tiny stage too distant to be concerned with, things seemed to be wrapping up. "Yes!" I said, louder than I'd intended.

His hand gripped my hair and pulled, painfully hard. He leaned very close and his tongue flicked for an instant against my earlobe. "Come, then," he whispered. "Right now." His grip tightened in my hair. "Come for me! Do it! Show me! Let it happen! Come for me!"

I gripped the edge of my seat and threw my head back. His words sent a powerful wave of contractions through the walls of my cunt, and before he had even finished speaking, I was in the grip of a powerful orgasm. My back arched so powerfully that my hips came entirely out of the seat. All around me, the audience surged to its feet and broke out in applause. For a brief irrational moment, I thought everyone was watching me, applauding at how hard I was coming...

...then it was over, and I collapsed spent back into the seat. I realized the play had ended, and the audience was applauding the actors' performance, not mine. My body was bathed in sweat, and wetness poured from between my legs. I moaned and turned to face Robert, and kissed him deeply, frantically.  "Oh my God, I can't believe I just did that! I came so hard, you have no idea..."

e smirked, with that same infuriatingly smug expression he'd had back at the house. "Oh, I think I do have an idea," he said, and winked. "Whore."

The lights came up. People began streaming from the theater. I rose and leaned heavily against Robert, barely able to walk. I continued to lean against him, half in a daze, as we stepped into the cool night air; between the wine and what had just happened in the theater, I felt almost drugged.

When we reached the car, he opened he passenger door for me. "Have you had a good evening?"

"Mmm, yes," I purred, "wonderful."

"Ah, good. Good." He reached into the car and reclined the passenger seat back as far as it would go. "But there's something I need to tell you." He opened the glove compartment, rummaged around inside for a moment, then straightened and turned to me. "It's not over yet." He took my hands in his, and I heard a metallic rasping sound and felt something cold and hard on my wrists. I looked down in surprise and saw that my wrists were handcuffed together. "I need to take you home and treat you like the fuck-slut you are."

I opened my mouth to reply. Instantly, he grabbed my hair and shoved the penis-shaped gag in my mouth. Hands still tight in my hair, he fastened it behind my head. I let out a muffled "mmf!" of surprise, and tried to pull away, my eyes wide, looking around the street frantically. No passers-by in sight, but that didn't keep me from feeling exposed and vulnerable. His held me firmly as his hand moved quickly; he unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it open, exposing me to the night air. I struggled and squirmed in his grip, and he pulled my hair hard and pushed me into the car. "Nggf! Mmmf!"

He closed the door and got in on the other side of the car. I struggled to sit up, and reached awkwardly for the lever that would straighten the seat. He leaned across the center console and slapped my breast sharply. "Behave!" He placed his hand between my breasts and pushed me back into the seat, and pinned me there while his other hand pulled down the zipper of my skirt. "Let me see that juicy cunt of yours." With that, he yanked my skirt and panties down to my ankles.

I whimpered and leaned forward as he released me, reaching for my skirt. He slapped me again, hard, this time directly on my mound. I twisted and screamed around the dildo, and he pushed me back down on the car seat again. "Stop struggling. Behave."

He started the car and pulled out into the street. I whimpered and moaned and tried to curl up on the seat, feeling exposed. His hand gripped my knee painfully tightly. "Lie still. Spread your legs."

He pulled onto the freeway. I lay on the seat in the darkness, hearing the traffic around us, naked and helpless. What if we get into a traffic accident? The rational part of my mind screamed. What if we get pulled over? I turned and reached for my skirt again, and he slapped me, even harder, on my breast. "No," he said sharply. "Don't make me tell you again."

The trip home took an eternity. I could not seem to stop the small muffled sounds coming from the back of my throat, nor keep myself from twisting and writhing on the seat. His hand slapped me sharply whenever I tried to cover up, his palm landing stinging blows on my breasts, thigh, and a couple of times directly on my pussy. Hot tears of shame and pain leaked from my eyes. As we pulled off the freeway and stopped at the traffic light, he leaned over and shoved his fingers roughly into my pussy. "You are my fuck toy," he said. "This is what happens to fuck toys." He withdrew his fingers and showed them to me. "You like it, too. Look how wet you are!" I moaned and turned away.

When we arrived at the house, he pulled smoothly into the driveway and shut off the car. "Stay there." He got out, walked around the car, and opened my door. Before I could react, he reached in and took me by the arm. "Come on. I want to use you now."

He pulled me to my feet. I reached for my the skirt and panties that lay crumpled around my ankles, and he slapped my breast. "No!" He pulled them from around my feet and tossed them back into the car, then grabbed my hair and my arm and marched me, half-naked, cuffed, and gagged, to the front door. I turned crimson as I stood exposed beneath the porch light while he fished his keys out of his pocket. He seemed casual, nonchalant, moving without haste as he unlocked the door, as though standing on the porch with a frantic, struggling, mostly naked woman next to him was the most natural thing in the world, rather than the sort of thing that might be expected to send the neighbors into an uproar.

Finally, he swung the door wide and pushed me through, then took me by the hair again and half-pushed, half-dragged me into the bedroom.

He shoved me down onto my back across the bed, with my head hanging off the far side. He removed my shoes and pulled my legs apart, then stripped off his shoes and pants, revealing his very hard erection. I expected him to take me, thrust his cock roughly into me,  and I squirmed in anticipation. He had something else in mind, though.

He walked around the bed and stood over me, for a moment, looking down with that same infuriating smirk. Then he unstrapped the gag and withdrew it from my mouth. "Are you ready?" Before I could say a word, he gripped the sides of my head and thrust into my mouth. I sputtered and thrashed on the bed, but he held me firmly and thrust hard into my mouth over and over. "This is what happens to fuck toys like you," he said. "God, this feels good!" With that, he screamed and erupted in my mouth. I flailed helplessly, caught off guard, and struggled to contain it all. He maintained his hold on me and pushed deeper, and I gurgled and choked, sending some of his come spilling from my mouth.

Finally, he was finished. He slid his cock out of my mouth, and I gulped and swallowed the gooey mess he'd left behind. "Time for bed," he said. He pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, then turned off the light and crawled into the bed next to me."

"But what about-"

He laughed. "You're sleeping cuffed tonight," he said, anticipating the question. He pulled me close to him and drew the covers over us. "I love you," he said. "And I also love fucking you like a whore. And now I'm finished with you for the evening. Better get some sleep; I have an even more busy day planned for you tomorrow, my darling little fuck toy. Good night!"

I lay tossing and turning for a long while, listening to his breathing grow slow and regular as he fell asleep beside me. The day's events-coming hard in the theater, the filthy things I said into the phone as I masturbated so obscenely in my office, the pleasure I'd taken in the thought that Jason could have been watching me this morning-whirled chaotically in my head, preventing sleep. I twisted awkwardly, seeking a comfortable way to lie with my wrists handcuffed in front of me...

...and with a start, realized I'd forgotten to masturbate upon coming to bed as I'd been told.

Instantly, I felt myself twitching, in the warm soft recesses between my legs. You are so easy, the rational voice inside me said, he can play you without even trying...  My pulse quickened. All it takes is for you to think about doing as you're told, and you get turned on. Look at you! You really are his fuck toy!

"Yes, I am," I sighed out loud. I brought my hands to my face in the darkness, and stroked my lips lightly with my fingertips, remembering the warmth and texture of his hard cock thrusting into my mouth. I savored the feeling of control he had over me-the physical control of the cold steel handcuffs binding my wrists, the mental control of is commanding voice, telling me what I had to do. I moaned softly, and brought my hands down between my legs. 

My fingers found wet slick and throbbing need. Robert had satisfied himself, but left me hungry for more. I needed to be filled, to feel his cock inside me, his hands pinning me down as he took me, not gently,  my body soft curves and submission beneath him, accepting his rough pounding...




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 07



There is no alarm clock which yet exists that is more effective at dragging one from the depths of slumber than a hard and determined cock being thrust deep into one's body.

I woke with a scream, part surprise, part pain, part raw carnal pleasure. Instantly, his hands were on my wrists, pinning them above my head, holding them down to the bed. His hips moved, and I felt him thrust into me again.  He was rock-hard inside me, and I felt him push almost too deep into me. I squirmed and tried to push him away; the hard steel of handcuffs encircled my wrists, limiting my ability to resist. "Hush. Take it!"

At his words, I fell into the magical place where I belonged to him, body and spirit. I clenched and arched my back, driving him deeper into me. 

"That's it," he said, and his fingers curled tighter around my wrists, unyielding, pressing steel tighter. "Take it!"

I cried out and twisted beneath him, and slammed my hips against him, surrendering to him even as I struggled. I felt him painfully deep, and wanted him to take me harder still. "It hurts!" I wailed. "Please, please let me come!"

"No!" The word came as explosive as a slap. He bore down on me with his full weight and clamped his hand over my mouth. I squirmed helpless in his grasp, powerless to prevent what he was doing to me. He leaned over me and looked into my eyes as he took me with a raw, savage, animal passion. "Give yourself to me."

Reason vanished, and in its place rose unthinking carnal need. I arched my back and spread my legs wide to receive him, my body soft curves and submission, giving myself up to his demands. I slammed my hips against his to meet his thrusts. His hand muffled my cries. I parted my lips, opened my mouth, drew his fingertips in, caressed them with warm wet tongue. The simple act was an offer and a promise, to give every part of my body to him willingly, to use for his own pleasure. 

He accepted my invitation and thrust two fingers into my mouth. I moaned and wrapped my lips around them, and spread my legs further. He looked down at me, and something wild and animal, something I hadn't seen before, moved behind his eyes.

"Are you mine?" he growled.

I looked up at him and nodded.

"Are you my slave? Are you my fuck-toy, to do whatever I want?"

I shuddered and quivered beneath him and moaned.

He pressed himself down onto mine, and I felt his weight and his heat against my naked, pliant body. "Show me."

I reached my hands high over my head and gripped the wrought iron of the headboard. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, pushing him deeper into me. My tongue swirled against his fingers, welcoming their intrusion into my mouth. Then, very slowly, I closed my eyes and turned myself over to him.

He took me hard, fast, and rough. His rigid cock thrust deep, hurting me; I tightened my legs around his hips and drove him deeper. He shoved his fingers into my mouth, choking me; I tilted my head back and took them farther down my throat. In that moment, every part of my body-my breasts, the sweat on my skin, the curves of my thighs, the firm roundness of my breasts pressed flat beneath his body, my soft sucking mouth, the sopping wetness of my cunt-existed only for his pleasure. I gave my body up to him willingly, eagerly, wanting him to use me, possess me, penetrate me, drive himself to ecstasy inside me...

I writhed under his assault, and bucked my hips against every thrust. My fingers curled against the head of the bed as I turned myself over to him. He grunted and cried out, and molten fire gushed within me. I screamed and clamped down hard, milking every bit of heat from him.

It was over. He slipped from me and withdrew his fingers from my mouth. I whimpered and lay still, arms still over my head and legs wide apart. A fine sheen of sweat clung to us both. "Did you enjoy using my body?"

"I did," he said.

I brought my hands, still bound by the steel cuffs he'd clamped on me last night, down between my legs and felt him dripping out of me. I looked up at him and opened my mouth wide in offering. He smiled and repositioned himself over me, then slipped his glistening wet cock between my lips. I closed my eyes as I savored the feel of his penis in my mouth, tasting the musky flavor of our mingled juices. Carefully, thoroughly, I began licking him clean. My fingers probed further, slipping down between my lips and spreading them open. I felt more wetness drip from me,, warm and slippery, and was consumed with a ravenous desire to be filled again. I shoved two fingers into myself and masturbated vigorously, plunging them deep, as I ran my tongue down the length of his softening penis. 

He let me clean him with my mouth until he was satisfied that every last trace of our sex was gone. When he withdrew, he had gone completely soft. I whimpered, and he looked down at me with a crooked smile. "Now, now. Don't be greedy. Tonight's going to be a busy night! I have plenty of things in store for you, believe me." He caught my wrists in his hands and gently took my hands away from myself. Later on this evening I've promised Jason I'd go over to his place for dinner, and..." He arched an eyebrow as he caught my expression. "Don't give me that look! There will be plenty for you to be doing-and no, you can't come with me." He winked, a gesture that always melts my heart, and kissed the backs of my hands. "Let me uncuff you."

He reached over to the nightstand and picked up the handcuff key. "That is, if you think you deserve to be uncuffed," he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Are you a good girl?"

I drew my hands away from him and smiled, impish. "Absolutely not!" I said coquettishly. "I'm a dirty, filthy, naughty girl!"

He laughed. "I can't argue with that! Come here, dirty girl." He unlocked the cuffs and I rubbed my wrists. 

He rose from the bed. I swung my legs around and sat on the edge of the bed looking up at him coyly. "Did you like using my body?" I asked sweetly.

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You were...adequate."

I laughed. "Adequate, was I?" I stood and stretched, and arched my body against his. "Only adequate?" I teased. I took his hands in mine and placed them over my breasts. "How about this part of me? Did it meet your expectations? Was it adequate?" I squeezed, pressing his hands into my breasts, feeling my nipples harden against his palm.

The tiny smile again. "Yes. Most adequate."

"And here?" I slid his hand slowly down my body, over my smooth-shaven mound, and pressed his finger into my dripping, freshly-fucked wetness. Pleasure rippled through my body, and I moaned softly. "Did this part of my body suit your needs?"

"It did," he said. He wriggled the tip of his finger slightly, and I moaned again. "This part of your body was pleasing to me."

I took his hand and raised it to my lips. "And how about this part? Did I clean you up well after you took pleasure from using me?" I touched the tip of his index finger, thickly coated with juices, with my tongue, and very, very slowly parted my lips. I gazed into his eyes to savor his reaction as I took his finger into my mouth. He tried to suppress his shudder; his eyelids fluttered. I sank to my knees in front of him and took his hand in both of mine, then held it still as I worked his finger with my mouth. I bobbed my head as I sucked and slurped and moaned around his finger. His cock twitched and stirred. I smiled and sucked his finger deeper.

"Enough!" he said. His voice hovered somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "Sand up. If I let you keep that up, we'll never get going this morning, and we have things to do."

"Like me?" I asked innocently.

He laughed and lifted me bodily to my feet. "You are insatiable this morning! I'm going to have to strip you in public, cuff you, and deny you the right to orgasm more often!" He placed his hands on my shoulders and gripped tightly. The strange animal light came back into his eyes. "Do you like giving your body to me? You enjoy doing what I say?"

I caught my breath. A surge of excitement, tinged with fear, swept over me; I had never seen him quite this animalistic. His normal controlled, rational self seemed to be crumbling, revealing...something else. I had a sense that we were venturing into uncharted territory, and the thought made my heart pound.

"Yes," I squeaked..

"Good," he said, and released me. A strange feeling crept into my mind-a feeling like I had just agreed to something, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. "Now, get cleaned up. I have an errand for you to run this afternoon." He left the room before I could ask him any questions.  

I followed him out and crossed into the bathroom. As I turned on the water, I felt my heart beat faster and my breathing grow ragged, and I smiled. So subtly, so gently, so skillfully had Robert and Jason manipulated my responses, so deliberately had they taken me, so often had they required ritual masturbation in the shower as part of my normal routine, that now merely the act of stepping into the bathroom aroused me. Together, they had created an indelible association in my mind between this simple thing and sex. 

I stepped under the water and let it pour around me, eyes closed. Even this, I thought, had become a sexual act. I soaped myself leisurely; the sensations, the caress on my skin, sent little pulses of pleasure vibrating through my body. I wondered, had they conspired to do this to me, or was it just a happy confluence of their own individual tastes, their own unique appreciation of the naked and wet female form? 

The question made me laugh again, this time at myself. "Way to over-think things, Jackie!" I said aloud. I placed my fingers between my legs and thrust them inside me over and over until my knees buckled and the heat burned away my reason, in the mandatory little ritual Robert required of me.

I finished the shower a frenzy of hunger and need. I stepped dripping from the stall and toweled myself dry. I wrapped myself in the towel and turned toward the door, and jumped, startled to see Robert leaning nude against the doorjamb. He had dragged a rolling office chair out of the den and parked it behind him in the hallway.

"Are you all clean?"

"At least on the outside," I answered.

"Good. Let's see." He rolled the chair into the bathroom, then stood in front of me. He hooked his finger in the towel and pulled it from me. That strange wild light was still in his eyes. "Stand up straight. Hands behind your back. Present yourself for inspection."

I opened my mouth, then caught that look in his eye. Instantly, I straightened and put my hands behind my back.

"Good. Shoulders back." He nudged my ankles with his foot. "Legs apart."

I complied instantly. I felt vulnerable, standing before him this way, breasts jutting out, hands held behind me, exposed in a way I did not completely understand. He'd seen every part of me countless times before, of course, but still... Something about standing here this way, presenting myself before him like this, made me feel uniquely naked.

And the feeling turned me on.

My nipples grew hard as stone. I felt a twitching between my legs, and butterflies, sexual longing with a tiny edge of fear, in my stomach. He stood beside me, leaned close. His hand caught my chin and tilted my head to one side. He swept my long damp hair back, and looked behind my ears. "Did you clean back here?"

I gulped and nodded. He grunted and tilted my head back,; his fingers ran through my hair, inspecting my scalp. Apparently, what he saw satisfied him, for his fingers moved down the side of my face. He forced my head up and examined my chin and the hollow of my throat. "You scrubbed here too, I trust."

"Yes," I squeaked.

"Good." He placed one hand on my back, between my shoulders, and with his other he began examining my breast. His hand worked its way under my breast, then up over the top, fingers probing and pushing uncomfortably. I felt a surge of strange, tangled emotions; humiliated, objectified by his clinical detachment, but also treasured, like a valued possession, highly prized by its owner. His face was expressionless, distant; but that feral light in his eyes, his rock-solid erection, his raspy breathing all spoke of the way he was taking pleasure from this. "You washed your breasts well, I see. No sign of the words you wrote on them before."

His hand moved in a slow spiral around my breast to my aching nipple. His fingers stroked and caressed it; I sighed involuntary and pressed my breast into his hand.

"Do you like that?" he asked.

"Oh, God, yes," I sighed.

He made another noncommittal sound and moved his hand to my other breast. As he pushed and prodded, I felt my face grow hot. "What are you-"

"Silence," he said. His fingers made another slow spiral, examining me almost as though I were a patient in a medical clinic. I flushed hotter, feeling more humiliated by the casual way he'd cut me off. I endured his touch in silence, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing me sigh or moan.

"Let's continue, shall we?" He drew up the chair and sat down in front of me. His fingers stroked my sides, my stomach; one fingertip probed my navel obscenely. "How about here? Did you soap up your bellybutton?"

"Yes, I did," I said flatly.

His hand descended further, palm running flat over my mound. "Did you shave?"

I shuddered slightly. "No. I shaved yesterday."

"I see." His fingers lightly touched my labial lips. "Are you wet?"

For an instant, I considered telling him to see for himself; at the last moment, I changed my mind. "Yes. Yes, I am."

He leaned forward in the chair to get a closer view, and slid his fingers between my lips, parting them. With that same cold, clinical detachment, he spread me open and pushed a finger inside. I could not stop myself from whimpering softly and moving my hips against his hand. "Yes, you are," he said. "Did you wash yourself here?"

I arched my back. "Yes."

"Did you like it? Did it feel good?" His finger probed deeper; I struggled to control the sensations.

"Yes. God, it felt good..."

"Did it make you want to come?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to come right now?"

I undulated my hips in slow, rolling waves, riding his finger. "Yes. Please!"

"Hm." He withdrew his finger, and I mewled my disappointment. His hands found my hips and turned me around to face away from him. I felt his touch on the small of my back, then the warmth f his hands sliding over my buttocks. "Did you make sure to clean yourself here?"

I nodded and looked down. "Yes, I did," I said meekly.

He parted my ass cheeks with both hands. Humiliation burned inside me as he placed his finger against the bud of my ass. "What about here?" The digit entered me partway. "Did you wash here?"

My face burned with shame. "No! No, I didn't. I didn't know..."

He straightened and took his hands off of me. "Well, then," he said,. He rose from the chair and turned away, toward the sink. "Turn around. Open your legs wider and keep your hands behind your back." He gathered up the body sponge, the soap, and a razor. Without turning toward me, he said, "I want you to hold still."

I turned back toward him and watched as he ran the water in the sink and soaped up the sponge He returned to his place on the chair. Working methodically, he lathered my pubic mound, then carefully and thoroughly shaved me smooth. His hands worked meticulously, gently; he brought the razor down across delicate skin with exquisite care, reaching the smallest and most inaccessible places with patience. I murmured quietly and relaxed into the sensuality of his touch, the warmth on my skin, the rhythmic motion of the razor. Time stood still and I lost myself in his intimate attention.

He worked without haste, shaving me several times; first down, moving with the direction of the hairs, then across, then up. I sighed with pleasure and held very still under his touch.

Eventually, he was finished. He wiped me dry with a soft towel, then ran his hand very gently up and down over my skin. I moaned softly under that gentle caress.

"Much better," he said. "You're as smooth as silk. Lovely." Warm breath, the feel of soft lips as he planted a kiss on my mound. "Now there's only one thing left to do."

He stood again and rolled the chair back out into the hall, then knelt and opened the cabinet under the sink. When he turned back, my eyes widened at what he held: a long, shiny, coiled hose, with a screw base on one end and a wide, flared nozzle on the other. I felt my heart skip a beat. 

"Oh, no." I shook my head. "No, no, no. Not that..." 

"Oh, yes. That." He closed the bathroom door, then shot me a look, one eyebrow arched, as if daring me to try to leave.

My eyes flicked up toward the camera mounted over the door. He gazed levelly at me, reading my thoughts. "Yes, I'm sure Jason's probably watching." Slight smile. "He really enjoys watching you. Almost as much as he likes fucking you." He uncoiled the hose and with a few deft movements, connected the end to the faucet in the sink. He turned on the water, and a thin stream flowed from the end of the nozzle. "Turn around."

"Nooooo! Please!" Intense, fiery shame gripped me. 

"Jacqueline Lynn Hathaway," he said calmly, enunciating each word clearly. "Turn around right now. Put your hands on top of your head. Spread your legs apart. Bend over and touch your nose to the wall."

Stunned speechless, I turned slowly toward the wall. My hands felt like lead as I raised them to my head. I stood with my legs apart, and leaned forward until my nose just touched the cold tile wall. My eyes brimmed with tears.

"Open your legs wider."

I complied, feeling awkward and off-balance.

"Wider."

I moved my legs apart further still. In this position, I felt helpless, unable to prevent what he was about to do to me. The tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks. Jason is watching, he's going to see me this way...

"Good." I felt Robert's hand spreading my ass cheeks, felt a stream of warm water against my skin. Something hard and unyielding pressed against my ass. "Relax."

Firm, steady pressure. I resisted for a moment, then felt the smooth metal nozzle stretching me open. Water poured down my thigh. More pressure, a sense of widening, and I felt my ass open up to the invasion. I cried out as I took the nozzle inside, and felt warmth spreading within me.

His arms reached around me from behind. One hand slid flat over my belly; the other moved down, between my legs. I felt more pressure, and a sense of violation as his fingers slid into my cunt. "Tell me when it's too much."

The warmth began to fill me. I whimpered and writhed on Robert's fingers. "That's it," he said. "That feels good, doesn't it?" His fingers moved inside me, and I shuddered and squirmed and moaned through my tears. Little ripples of pleasure radiated outward from where his fingers worked their magic, and my responses only intensified the humiliation.

He pressed his palm flat against my stomach, and the warmth inside me grew, together with a growing pressure. I tried to twist my hips away; his arms caged me, preventing me from moving. I imagined how I must look, leaning naked against the wall with the hose protruding ignobly from me and connected to the faucet, with Robert's fingers shoved up inside me, and felt my body flush with embarrassment. "No," I whispered plaintively.

His fingers worked faster. I caught my breath and moaned again. The warmth and pressure and a feeling of fullness increased steadily, slowly, in my belly. With gentle pressure, he slid his thumb up over my clit and moved it in little half-circles. I pressed my hips forward and let the pleasure run through me. His fingers moved deeper, and I thrust my hips against them, wanting more.




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 07



The relentless, unceasing pressure continued. His fingers did something down between my legs, and my reason faded. It was all too much-the shame, the humiliation, the growing discomfort, the longing and need-and still I wanted more. Wave after wave of raw physical ecstasy coiled around the uncomfortable fullness, and soon I became aware that he was holding his hand still and I was bucking my hips madly, sobbing, riding his fingers, grinding against his thumb, screaming with every thrust as I took myself. "Oh God oh God oh God," I whimpered as I wept and thrashed and drove myself onto those infuriating, fingers. "Oh, God, I'm going to come, please, please..."

He pressed his hand sharply against my belly. The pressure created a shockwave of discomfort bordering on pain, and I cried out. I bucked wildly, chasing the interrupted orgasm. He increased the pressure with his hand, and I howled. "It's too much!"

He pulled his fingers from me. I staggered and gasped. He gripped the nozzle inside me, and I felt myself stretching open again as he pulled it free. I yelped as it came out. "Hold it," he said.

I could feel the huge volume of liquid sloshing around in me. He put the nozzle in the sink, and I whimpered and squirmed. "Please, please," I begged, "it's too much, please!"

"Hold it," he repeated. He caressed my belly gently, then pressed the tips of his fingers into my soft flesh. I felt stretched and full beyond my capacity. Tears flowed from my eyes again, and my own wetness flowed down my thighs. He showed me the fingers that had been inside me, thickly smeared with white. "You are very wet," he said. "I think you like this."

"No! Too...it's too much!"

He laughed and wiped his fingers off on my breast. Even that little thing, that one simple act, made me feel objectified and possessed. Tears streamed down my face. "Please..."

He turned me away from the wall, and I staggered and leaned heavily against him. He put his hands on my shoulders and pressed me down, inexorably, until I was kneeling on the bathroom floor in front of him. Liquid gurgled and sloshed heavily within me, straining for release. His hands caressed my head and gathered up my hair. He pulled my head back, forcing me to look up at him. "Do you still like giving yourself to me?"

I nodded mutely, my cheeks tear-stained.

He guided the head of his stiff cock to my lips. I opened my mouth without a word.

He used my mouth roughly, thrusting his hips strongly over and over again, and soon he shuddered and released a torrent of thick warm goo. I gulped quickly, then gently licked the head and shaft of his penis as it softened in my mouth.

He smiled. "That felt very good," he said. He picked me up by my arms, and I felt sloshing inside me again. He helped me sit on the toilet. "You may release it now."

My body, stretched and filled to the limit, didn't even wait for a conscious decision. The warm water exploded out of me in a torrent. I let out a strangled cry and whimpered, feeling abruptly, catastrophically empty. 

Robert grinned. "Get dressed so I can tell you about your errand." He left the bathroom; I picked up the discarded towel lying forlorn on the floor and wrapped it around myself. A last couple of sobs escaped; I felt drained, both literally and figuratively, and horny, and ashamed, and slightly apprehensive. 

And I still hadn't come. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

He dressed ahead of me. I wiped my eyes and went into the bedroom to find him already half-dressed; unbuttoned white Oxford shirt over blue jeans. He was just zipping the jeans as I walked into the bedroom, and I caught a brief glimpse of the head of his cock as it disappeared. He noticed my gaze and smiled. "Still haven't had enough?"

"I'm still frustrated!" I snapped.

"Good. You won't be tonight when I get back from Jason's, I promise." He kissed my cheek. "I love you!"

I growled at him. "I love you too. Even though you're a bastard."

He grinned. "You love me because I'm a bastard, Jackie dear." He kissed my forehead, then gathered me into his arms, the gesture very tender. 

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him fiercely, tightly, and sniffled.  "You made me cry!" I said accusingly.

"I did! Then I fucked your mouth," he chirped brightly.

"And you still haven't let me come!"

"I'm not done with you yet." He kissed my cheek and released me. "I told you I have something special planned for you. We haven't even started on that yet." He looked into my eyes and smiled as his fingers buttoned his shirt. "I want you to go shopping. Find a new outfit. Something really sexy; something that'll knock my socks off. Shouldn't take you more than an hour or two. Wear it home." He kissed my cheek again. "I'm going over to Jason's for a little while, but I can hardly wait to come back home."

I sniffled again, still feeling vulnerable and slightly ashamed, both for what he had just done to me and for my own responses, my own need. 

He rubbed his hands together with glee, looking like a delighted ten-year-old who has just been told that Christmas came early this year and brought with it a week-long trip to Disneyland. I smiled slightly in spite of myself; his boyish enthusiasm seemed contagious.

"Here." He reached into the closet, pulled out a white pullover shirt and a pair of pants. "Hurry up and get dressed. You have some shopping to do!"

I dressed and followed him out to the living room. "I'm going to head over to Jason's now," he said. "He's supposed to be grilling some steaks this evening. I'll see you later!" He stopped at the door and drew me into a kiss.

I returned the kiss deeply. His arms wrapped around me, and I pressed my body tightly against his. He crushed me against him and his tongue pushed past my lips. I moaned, all my hunger channeled into the white-hot passion of that kiss.

We were both panting when he broke it off. I shook my head slightly to clear it. He smiled a dreamy, faraway smile. "Mmm, you are such a delight. Hold that thought until tonight."

He left, and I followed him out the door. He smiled and blew me a kiss as he drove off; I watched him go, not quite sure what I was feeling. At first, long ago, when I had gone to him and told him what I wanted, how I'd wanted to belong to him, to be made to do whatever he wanted me to do, he'd been tentative, unsure. Over time, he'd grown into the role, and it had become second nature to him. But now...

Now we truly were in uncharted territory. He'd found ways to make it work for him, beyond what I had originally envisioned, and this week had seen me do things I never believed I would do. Now I was the one who felt tentative and uncertain. These things he was doing to me...they thrilled me, excited me, but they also scared me. He had ordered me to give myself to another man, he had humiliated and exposed me, he had even made me cry...and he'd done it so skillfully that I wanted it, I craved it, I opened myself to more. Whatever he had planned as the finale to the week, I had a feeling it was going to go way beyond what I was prepared for...and the part that frightened me the most was how badly the small secret place inside me wanted it.

I mused on that feeling as I drove toward the mall. Whatever he was going to ask of me tonight, it would probably challenge me. Did I want that? Was I prepared to follow him wherever he was taking this? The rational part of my brain warned that Robert had already taken things past the point I was comfortable with, but another, insistent voice inside me said So? Isn't that what you want, to be his property, his slut, to give yourself to his whim? What did you think that would mean?

Something had changed, that night he'd made me put on a show for Jason, then told me to open my legs and my mouth to him. Jason's hands on my body, Jason's cock inside of me, Jason's voice whispering instructions to me, humiliating me...all these were things I'd shared with Robert, and somehow it seemed that by sharing them with Jason, I'd given a small piece of myself to him, without even knowing it, in a way that I could not undo.

And Robert showed no sign that this would be the end. How many more pieces of myself would he tell me to give away?

Are you sorry he did it? that small insistent voice asked.

I thought about that for a while.

No. No, I wasn't sorry. I had enjoyed it. I had enjoyed giving my body to this lover I had not chosen, I had enjoyed the feel of his hands and the smell and taste of him, I'd enjoyed humiliating myself, making myself dirty, for his pleasure. But more than that, I enjoyed his presence. His participation in the things Robert did to me, the knowledge that he could be watching at any time. Far from diminishing what I had with Robert, these things seemed to intensify it, as if his witness to them made them more real. I felt a greater intensity, a greater force behind what Robert and I did when they were shared, and that was something I had certainly not expected.

So what are you going to do?

I knew the answer almost before the question finished resolving. Right there, in the car halfway to the shopping mall, I made the decision: whatever it was Robert would ask of me, whatever demands he placed on me, I would accept, willingly, without reservation. I would belong to him,  I would be his partner and his whore and whatever else he wanted.

But first things first. Right now, that meant choosing a new outfit for the evening. Something sexy, he'd said; something that would knock his socks off.

That proved to be more difficult than I'd thought it would be. I spent far longer than I'd intended shopping. I found quite a large number of different possibilities, but nothing that seemed quite right. I tried on a tight-fitting, V-necked shirt with a skirt slit up the side-sexy, to be sure, but not anything particularly special. A slinky tube top and leather miniskirt...not me. A zip-up corset-style top and tight black shorts... definitely not me. A button-up men's shirt over tight black jeans...it had potential, I'd always thought there was something very sexy about a woman in a man's shirt, especially with a tie loosely around the neck and the top buttons undone, but...no.

I had walked back and forth in front of the shop several times, each time growing more frustrated. I noticed the dress in the window, but dismissed it-too formal, too long. Each time past, I looked at it a little longer before moving on.

After a particularly disastrous experiment with a pair of white Capri pants and a midriff-baring halter top, I came back to the store and looked at it for a long while. What the hell, might as well give it a try...

One look at the mirror in the dressing room and I knew I'd hit the jackpot. It was slinky and black, completely backless, plunging in the front in a way that perfectly accented the curves of my breasts, ending in a knee-length pleated skirt. It looked like the sort of dress one might wear either to a formal cocktail party or to a by-the-hour motel, and it fit my body as if it had been custom-tailored for me. I smiled, turning this way and that before the mirror, appreciating how it revealed just a suggestion of the sides of my breasts, how it came up around my neck and left my shoulders bare...sensual and sexy at once.

And I had nothing to wear with it.

I paid for the dress and carried it with me. Some additional searching eventually yielded up a dark burgundy strapless half-cup bra, ending just below my nipples, with a matching burgundy thong, the front a triangular panel of sheer mesh, translucent...blatant sexuality, a perfect counterpart to the subdued sensuality of the dress. I bought them both, put them on in the dressing room under the black dress, decided that I didn't like the bra with the backless dress...it really looked best, I thought, with nothing beneath it. I kept the panties on; the bra went back into my bag, with the rolled-up clothing I'd worn to the mall.

A tight black velvet choker to accent my neck, and, on impulse, a black and blue glittery beret to hold my hair back, creating a cascade that tumbled over my shoulders. Just the thing, I thought impishly, to hold my hair out of my face when I'm sucking cock... I blushed and looked away from the mirror. Assembled, the outfit was perfect...no matter what devious plan he had lined up, it would be appropriate. 

I smiled. How fitting, I thought, now that I have made this decision to give myself to Robert more completely, that I should wrap this gift up in such a lovely package...

Heads turned as I left the mall and walked back out to the parking lot. I flushed at the attention, slightly embarrassed but also pleased. Oh, yes, I thought in silent answer to the tacit questions implied by the looks. Yes, I do. You have no idea.

As I neared home, my heart started beating faster, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach again. I didn't expect Robert to be home, but I had no idea when he would return, nor what would happen when he did. The butterflies fluttered stronger as I pulled into the driveway. Robert's car wasn't there, so I would probably have some time before whatever it was that would be happening tonight; I didn't know whether to feel relieved or nervous about that.

Nervous was, as it turned out, the correct response.

I walked into the living room and instantly stopped dead in my tracks. Robert, ever the sneaky trickster, had apparently fooled me by leaving when I did; it seemed he must have come back immediately after I had driven off. The living room had been completely rearranged in my absence. The wide-screen TV had been relocated to the far end of the living room, just below the camera mounted near the ceiling, and the couch had been moved off into some other room, leaving a wide expanse of open space. A wooden chair I didn't recognize sat in the center of the room, facing the television. Two wide leather straps with small buckles on the end hung gracefully from the arms of the chair.

Two folding tables had been set up on each side of the chair. Arranged neatly on the tables were all the toys from the toy bag-dildos, vibrators, plugs and clips and clamps of various descriptions.

No, not all the toys, I realized-all but one of the toys. One toy, a long, thick dildo with a suction-cup base, had been affixed to the hardwood floor about midway between the chair and the television, where it jutted up obscenely.

The television was turned on, connected to Robert's laptop, which was resting on the floor next to the TV stand. The screen was divided into two panels: one displaying the chair, which was carefully located exactly in the center of the view from the camera near the ceiling; the other showing the room from the vantage point of the camera built into the laptop, a worm's eye view of the length of the living room, the dildo affixed to the floor prominent in the foreground. Below the two camera feeds, a cursor blinked in a chat window.

My heart thudded. The butterflies became "Robert," I said aloud to myself, "you are a bastard. What are you up to?"

I stepped further into the room, in the range of the cameras. The cursor blinked steadily at me. I looked at myself, two different views of radiant sexuality in the brand-new dress, and felt the butterflies flutter.

There you are! A sudden line of text blipped into existence on the bottom of the screen, black letters pixilated on the large display.  I jumped slightly.

I expected you home sooner.
We're just getting ready to put the steaks on the grill.
Perhaps you can solve a debate for us.

I looked suspiciously at the camera. "What kind of debate?"

Jason and I were just explaining to his guests that you will do any kinky, dirty thing you are told to do, no matter what it is.
A few of them don't believe it.

"What??!" I exclaimed. "Who's over there? Who are you talking to about me?"

Just some friends of Jason's. He's having a cookout. Hooked up his computer to his TV so everyone can watch. Say hi to everyone!

I felt myself turn red. "Oh, no, Robert," I stammered, "you're not going to...you can't be serious...no, that's way too..."

I am. I can be.
You didn't answer my question, though.
The debate we're having.
The guys won't believe it unless they hear it from you.
Tell them.

"Tell them what?"

You know what.
You like being told to do kinky, dirty things.
You will do whatever you're told.

I flushed again and looked around the living room. I had a pretty good idea about where this was going, and the resolve I'd felt in the car on the way to the mall started to evaporate. This constant pushing, this placing me in front of wider and wider audiences...the rational part of me rebelled against it. This hadn't exactly been what I had thought, back when we first began exploring this kind of relationship, and now, wrapped up amidst the arousal and the longing and the erotic thrill of being his sexual property, something else, a part of me that was slightly horrified at the way he exposed me to the world, and even more horrified at the parts of me that liked it. I shook my head, tongue-tied.

Tell them.

"I...no, I can't!"

Is it true?

I nodded meekly.

Is it true that you like being told what to do?
Is it true you like being made to do dirty things with your body?

"I...yes. Yes, it is."

A moment passed. No response. I set the bags and my purse down on the floor. My hands shook very slightly.

Is that your new outfit?
Come closer to the camera and let us see.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, and walked farther into the living room. 

Stand in front of the chair.

I walked around the tables, a strange feeling crawling up my back as my eyes fell on the array of sex toys laid out on them. Just having other people see them, and by seeing them gain insight into my kinks and tastes, made me feel vulnerable and embarrassed.

Good.
Turn around.

I stood in front of the camera and turned, arms out.

Wow.
That is really beautiful.
You outdid yourself.
Very sexy.

I blushed and smiled, pleased.

We do still have a problem.
Some of the guys still don't believe that you will do anything you're told.

I looked down, silent, waiting for the inevitable. I had a feeling that there was only one way this could go, and I warred internally about whether or not I wanted it to go there. You don't have to do this, a part of me said. You can still choose to say no.

The other voice, the wild voice, answered. You want this. You want to do this. You want to give yourself to him completely.

To him, yes, but not to everyone, the rational part shot back. This isn't the same thing!

SHOW US UR TITS!!1

"What?"

Sorry. I was getting a burger.
A few of the guys would like to see your breasts.

I shuddered and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. "What? Now?" Don't do it! the rational part of my brain screamed. Don't even think about it!

No need to be hasty.
There are other ways to solve this debate.
Besides, that's such a sexy dress. I am enjoying looking at you wearing it.

Relief, and, just barely, a tiny hint of disappointment...could I really have wanted him to tell me to flash my tits at Jason's friends? Might as well admit it, the inner voice whispered, you like it.

Let's see if we can put this to rest another way.
Stand on one foot.

I frowned. The request seemed silly, like something a child might ask...not what I had expected at all. Stand on one foot? What the hell kind of request was that?

I did it, feeling a bit stupid. I balanced on one foot, arms outstretched, watching the image of myself on the screen. I glanced at the dildo protruding up from the floor in front of me, and my breath caught. He's toying with me...




An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 07



Put your hands on your head.

I did as I was told, feeling more silly still. A quick, jagged memory of the bathroom flashed in front of my eyes, and little pinpricks of shame crawled up my back.

Mmm. I can see your nipples.

I looked down. Sure enough, my nipples stood hard against the dress.

Okay, you can stop now.
Most of the guys believe me now.
Still a couple of holdouts, though.
A couple of the guys have pointed out that standing on one foot is not kinky sex stuff.
What do you think?

"No." I looked down at my feet. "No, I guess not."

Well, then.
I guess they have a point.
We still have not demonstrated that you will do whatever dirty, kinky thing you are told to do.
So I can understand their skepticism.
How do you think we can address these doubting Thomases?

That question clearly had only one answer. I didn't give it to him.. I looked up directly at the camera and smiled. "I guess they'll just have to take your word for it," I said defiantly.

I think there might be another way. 
I'm sure you can think of one too.

I blushed and looked down again, studying my feet. "You could tell me to do something kinky and sexual," I said in a tiny voice.

That's an interesting thought.
I suppose I could tell you to do something kinky and sexual.
If I did, would you do it?

The moment of truth had arrived. I whimpered, very quietly. If you say yes, that rational part of my brain told me, he will do it. He will make you degrade yourself in obscene ways for the enjoyment of all his friends. He will tell you to expose yourself to them and who knows what else. Time to make a decision.

"No," I told myself silently. "I've already made that decision."

I looked directly into the camera's hard round lens. "Yes," I said. "If you told me to do something kinky and sexual, I would do it."

Show me.
Touch your breasts.

I took a deep breath. Hesitantly, I brought my hands up the front of the dress, moved them over my breasts, up to my shoulders, back down again. I squeezed and fondled gently, felt my nipples harden. Somewhere deep inside, my emotions startled roiling.

I would say that qualifies as sexual, wouldn't you?

"Yes." My hands roamed freely over my breasts. I pinched my nipples lightly and sighed.

There is some debate over here as to whether or not it is kinky and sexual, though.
A few people seem to feel that you still have not demonstrated that you will do any kinky sexual thing you are told.

"Being ordered to touch myself in front of a camera for people I don't know isn't kinky?"

You make a good point.
I'll see what they think.

A minute passed. I tweaked my nipples, toyed with my breasts.

The vote is nine to two, with Jason and I abstaining.
They don't think that playing with your tits counts as "kinky."

I did the math, and felt my face grow hot.

We still need to convince them you will do whatever kinky sexual thing I tell you to do.

 I glanced around at the arrangement of sex toys. "I have no doubt you'll find a way to do that," I said dryly. I continued fondling my breasts, sliding my hands down under them. Truth be told, I was beginning to enjoy it, in spite of my unseen audience. My nipples, made exquisitely sensitive by constant teasing over the past couple of days, sent little electric shocks through my body at every touch. I pressed the palms of my hands flat against them and moaned.

Now what do you suppose would qualify as "kinky?"

"That's not really the right question, is it? The right-oh!" I cupped my hands under my breasts and pressed my thumbs into my nipples; the sensation sent shivers through my body. Between my legs, I twitched and grew wet. As my excitement rose, so did my desire for him to tell me to do very dirty things to myself, the most obscene things he could imagine, to let me show him what I was capable of, to remove all doubt from the people watching. "The right question is, what do they think is kinky?"

Again, you make an excellent point.
I have one vote for "show us your tits," but I don't really think that's very kinky, in all honesty.
The consensus here is that everyone will know kinky when they see it.
Are you enjoying fondling yourself?

"I am," I said truthfully.

I think we will need to address this issue systematically.
I will tell you to do things.
After you do them, we will vote on whether or not they count as kinky, dirty, sexual things.
We will see how long it takes to find something that everyone agrees is kinky.
What do you think?

"I think the voting will be rigged and this will take quite a while." My own cheekiness surprised me; I almost felt like I was goading him, daring him to do his worst. My image on the television wore an expression part worried, part haughty defiance; I wondered if Robert could tell what I was feeling.

Get down on your hands and knees.

On the screen, I saw my face turn red; a small detached part of my mind observed that my shame was more transparent than I thought it was. I knelt carefully on the hard wooden floor, and leaned over on all fours. From this position, I noticed, I was precisely at eye level with the Webcam built into Robert's laptop.

Crawl around the chair. Wag your ass.

I looked up at myself on the screen. The camera peered down my dress, making it amply clear I was not wearing a bra. Slowly, I crawled on my hands and knees in a loose circle around the chair. I swayed my hips back and forth for the camera, letting my audience see me from all sides as I made the circuit. My breasts hung and bobbed, dragging my nipples across the inside of the dress, making me hiss. By the time I finished the path, they were screaming, begging to be pinched. I couldn't remember a time when they'd been so deliciously sensitive.

That is so hot.
You have no idea.
Now crawl over to the dildo on the floor.

I crawled slowly, exaggerating the emphasizing of my hips, crouching down to let the camera gaze deeper into my cleavage. That wild, irrational defiance drove me; I was determined to beat him at this game by driving myself farther than he thought I would go. Whatever he asked, I would do, better and more fully than he thought; if he wished to humiliate me in front of this audience, I would find every shameful, degrading part of it and exaggerate it, welcome it, allow the humiliation to consume me.

I reached the rubbery flesh-colored phallus and crouched over it expectantly.

Jason and I have described your virtues at sucking cock.
Now we'd like a demonstration.
Lick it.

My heart thudded. I slowly opened my mouth and extended my tongue, then bent down and swirled it around the wide, bulbous head of the fake rubber cock. I let my tongue explore the head, lapping and flicking until it shone with wetness. Then I ran my tongue and lips down the side of the dildo until my cheek rested on the cool floor. I remained there for a moment, face to the floor, my tongue caressing the side of the dildo, before I worked my way back up again. I kissed the head when I arrived at the top, then worked my way down the other side. By the time my other cheek touched the floor, the dildo glistened.

Suck it.

I lifted my head over the top of the thick veined toy and looked directly into the camera. Very deliberately, I licked my lips and moaned. I lowered my head until my lips lightly touched smooth round rubber, looked up into the camera from beneath my bangs, and moaned again. I parted my lips and took the head halfway into my mouth, still watching myself on the laptop screen. I drank in every detail-the way this position, kneeling on hands and knees, exposed my cleavage; the way my lips stretched around the girth of the wet pink dildo-and I pictured a group of men gathered around a television screen, exchanging crass, demeaning comments, enjoying my objectification. My cheeks grew hot, and I savored the humiliation. If they want to see me suck cock, I'll show them just how filthy a cocksucker I am.

I opened my mouth wider, took the dildo deeper, until it touched the back of my throat. I wanted to take its entire length, feel it down my throat, but it was too thick; much larger than anything I had successfully deep throated before.

I raised my head up the length of the shaft, then descended again until it pushed once more against my throat. I relaxed my throat and worked it deeper, struggling with the massive bulbous head, until I choked. Yes! that savage defiance said. Choke on it! Make yourself take it!

I bobbed my head up and down, slurping and sucking and forcing it against the back of my throat. I sputtered and coughed and gagged around the thick shaft. The thought that my discomfort might be arousing the people watching me brought on a fresh wave of humiliation, which in turn sent a trickle of warm wetness leaking from the warmth between my legs. Do you like this? I asked my audience silently. Do you like seeing a woman on her hands and knees choking herself on a dildo? Do you like seeing me make a whore of myself just to entertain you?

Then the unexpected happened. My throat opened up and the dildo slid all the way down. My nose touched the floor.

I paused there. A vivid picture appeared in my head, of how I must look, on my hands and knees on the floor, face down, mouth stretched wide around a thick rubber cock, ass in the air as if begging to be fucked. The imagery felt shockingly, breathtakingly submissive and shameful all at once. I imagined strong hands on the back of my head, holding it down, a hard cock shoving its way in my ass, mouth and anus stretched open for my lover's pleasure, heedless of my own discomfort... I held the pose and rocked my hips in the air. Without warning, my throat spasmed, and I sat up quickly, gasping, eyes watering. I panted heavily, and my chest heaved.

Wow.
I didn't know you could take something that big down your throat.
You must be really turned on.

I ran my hands over my breasts. "What about you? Did that turn you on?"

Yes.
The vote now stands at 4 people who believe what you just did is dirty and kinky, 6 who want more proof, and 1 vote for "show us your tits."

"What if I don't want to show you my tits?"

Does it matter?

"No."

Do you want to show us your tits?

"No."

Show us your tits.

I stood and turned to face the camera squarely. Without a word, I reached behind my head. My fingers found the clasp holding the dress around my neck. A quick manipulation and it was open; the front of the dress fell. I wrapped my arms around myself, ran my hands up my arms to my shoulders, crossing them in front of me, hiding them. Slowly, with an act of will, I forced myself to slide my hands down over my breasts, cupping them, and present them to the camera.

You didn't want to let these people ogle your breasts?

"No." I ran my fingers in circles around my taut nipples, coaxing them to stand out further.

Then why did you?

"Because you told me to." I drew my shoulders back proudly, thrusting my breasts forward for the camera. Silently, I said to myself, Because I love being your slut. Because I love the way it feels when you make me do humiliating things I don't want to do. Because I love giving myself to you, letting you possess me this way.

An epiphany dawned. Because I am proud of the way I can do what you tell me to do even when it's hard. Because I am proud when others see how I give myself to you.

Take off the dress completely.

I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my socks, one by one. I faced the camera again, and wriggled my hips as I shimmied out of the dress. I folded it neatly and set it carefully next to the chair, then stood facing the camera wearing only the dark red thong panties with the sheer mesh see-through front. The dark patch of wetness showed clearly on the screen.

I stood still, legs apart, arms at my sides, awaiting my next instruction.

One of the people here has a question. I think you can answer it.
He wants to know what the dark green object on the right-hand table
Sorry
My right. Your left.
He wants to know what the dark green object standing on the corner of the table to your left is.

I turned, found what he was referring to, picked it up. "This?"

Yes. Tell him what that is used for.

I held it up. "This..."I flushed and stopped, tongue-tied. Damnit, I could call myself filthy names; I could masturbate openly as I moaned and sighed into a voice mail box; why was this so difficult?

I took a breath, started again. "This is a anal plug made out of granite. It's used for-"I stopped myself again. No, I told myself. Describe how YOU use it. Be graphic.

"I lube it up and shove it up my ass. It's cold and very hard. It's also quite large, as you can see." My face burned crimson. "It's near the limit of what I can take down there. This thing can get pretty painful if I leave it in for a long time, which I sometimes do." I forced myself to look steadily at the camera, though I desperately wanted to turn away. "Sometimes, if I want it to hurt, I don't lube it first. Instead, I put it in my mouth before I shove it up my ass, and just get it wet that way."

Show us.
Put it in your ass.

"Should I use lube?"

Do you want it to hurt?

"Yes."

Use lube.

I slid down the red thong panties, just enough to give me access. Robert had thoughtfully placed the bottle of lube near the plug; clearly, he had thought ahead. I squeezed a generous dollop onto the top of the large stone plug and spread it around with my hand.

When it was sufficiently slippery, I turned away from the camera and knelt on the floor. I bent over the chair, reached between my legs; my questing fingers located the entrance to my ass, and I wiped the excess lube around it.

Relax, I told myself as I brought the plug between my legs. Breathe. The cold tip touched my anus, and I shivered. With slow, steady pressure, I worked it in, feeling myself opening up to it. I felt my sphincter fight against the intrusion, and I increased the pressure. Slowly, bit by bit, I stretched open around it.

When I reached the point where I felt that I could stretch no wider, I held my hand still and pushed backward against the chair. The giant plug slipped into my ass in a sudden rush. I clamped down tightly against it and let out a gasp; the shock took my breath away, making my eyes water and my vision swim.

I lay there for a minute, panting, and let the feeling gradually subsided to a throbbing ache. When my vision cleared, I straightened with some difficulty and stood unsteadily facing the camera.

Did that hurt?

"Not as much as I wanted it to." I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and stood still, panties pulled partway down, feeling that implacable weight.

Are you wet?

I turned slightly to face the camera directly. The heavy mass of stone in my ass shifted with the slightest motion. I opened my legs as far as the panties around my thighs would allow. I slid my hands across my body, over my breasts, down my sides, over my silky-smooth naked mound; then, with a sharp, abrupt motion,  pushed three fingers deep into my cunt. "Oh!"

Another quick motion and they were out.  I raised my fingers and examined them, slick and glistening. "Yes." I blushed furiously. I touched my lips lightly with my fingertips, wetting them with my own juices. "Very." I licked my lips. My face turned even deeper red, and hot shame spread slowly through my body, lending a ruddy glow to my skin. I took my fingers in my mouth and licked them clean.

We want to see.
Sit in the chair.

I sat demurely, legs together. The heavy granite plug, only slightly warmer now than it had been, pushed farther into my ass as I place my weight on it.

Do you remember how you closed your legs, that first night I made you put on a show for Jason, when I told you he was watching?

"Yes." The memory of that night flooded back.

We're going to make sure that does not happen again.
Put your legs up over the arms of the chair.

I drew one leg free of the panties, and left them dangling loosely on my other thigh. I hooked my knees up over the padded wooden arms. The position spread my thighs wide and shifted my hips forward, bringing the round base of the plug into plain view. Nothing was hidden; nothing left to the imagination.

Use the straps.
Tie them there.

My fingers felt thick, reluctant to comply. Slowly, I forced myself to pick up each strap in turn, wrap it around my leg and the arm of the chair, draw the buckle tight. When I was finished, I was unable to close my legs or turn to hide myself.

It was worse than I thought it would be.

Not only did I feel exposed, vulnerable, a creeping feeling of helpless took hold as well, mixing with the humiliation. My chin quivered, and I could not bring myself to look at the camera.

He wasn't finished exposing me.

On the table to your left, you will find the clips.
Use them.

My heart thudded and pounded. I turned to look. They rested there exactly where he'd said: two leather straps, each connected by a black cord to a wide metal clip tipped with rubber. My hands shook as I picked them up, and little rivulets of sweat dripped down my breasts.

I whimpered as I fitted each strap around my upper thighs. I picked up the first clip, held it open against the spring, and carefully clipped it to my labial lip. I cried out as the clamp bit down, unable to stop the exclamation from escaping my lips. Then I picked up the second clip and repeated the process on the other side, crying out again as it clamped down on my other lip.

Now open yourself.

From somewhere far away, I heard a choked sound, midway between a groan and a sob, and realized that the sound had come from me. I took the ends of the cords and pulled. They slipped through the straps around my thighs and pulled on the clips; my labial lips spread open wide. On the television screen, a large bead of pearly white wetness rolled from my gaping cunt and trickled down around the base of the heavy anal plug. Nothing I had ever done before-not being given to Jason, not kneeling on the bedroom floor and being made to beg for his cock in my mouth, not even squirting body washed mixed with his come all over my body-had ever made me feel quite so thoroughly, completely objectified. 

Do you like tasting your own juices?
Tell the truth.

I shook my head,  "No. I know that it turns you on."

Pick up the long double-headed dildo I sent you.
Put it in your cunt.

Another choking sob. I seemed frozen in molasses; every movement came in slow motion. The long black dildo felt unnaturally heavy as I lifted it.

I brought it down between my splayed legs, slid the head into my wide-open cunt. It stretched me wider, and the plug shifted painfully inside its tight slippery hole. I cried out loudly in pain and shame.

Fuck yourself.
Tell everyone what you did with this the first time you used it.

I gingerly slid the dildo deeper and moaned. "I-you made me... You sent the dildo in a box to my office when I was at work. You told me to lock the office door and strip naked." I whimpered, moved the dildo a little bit faster. " I took off all my clothes in the office and fucked myself with this dildo until I came." My ears burned; my face burned; my nipples stood out as hard as the granite toy. "I-" 

Tell them. Tell them everything.

"I fantasized about being raped in the elevator at the office while I masturbated." The surge of humiliation made me clench around the dildo. "When I came, I took a picture of myself and sent it to you."