1 comments/ 20903 views/ 1 favorites The Commuter Pt. 02 By: jusduit Chapter TEN Two days later, on the commuter train home from New York City Thursday night, my Latina Woman was back. I deliberately sat in the facing seat, this time pulling my thighs in tight around her knees. I had had time to think, to put things in perspective. The woman had controlled my every move from the moment I had boarded that train two days ago, to what can only be described as the most intense orgasm of my life, and I fell for and loved every second of it. But having had the chance to run the events through my mind a few times, I was ready to set the scale back in balance. Next time there would be no repeat of what had happened, at least not to me. I had spent time resurrecting fantasies, a little reading in a few BDSM places, and begun to concoct a thoroughly exotic and enjoyable repertoire. Every step of the way would be to please me first, and her second. I was even beginning to think of some punishments to throw into the schedule, though I had to admit that much of the “Master” roles I had read seemed to be based more on formality than desire, and a bit more selfish than is my nature. My version might be deplored by aficionados, but it would certainly meet my own standards. After all, I was setting them as I wanted, and I still had several days before I had to be ready. She looked up at me, smiled, and looked back at her Newsweek. She was so cool. It was as if we were old friends, or even married, courteous but non-plussed. I wondered how she could be so composed, knowing how she had humiliated me, let alone forced me to cum, all on my own! She looked again from her magazine to me and laughed, before looking back to her reading. It was adding humiliation on top of humiliation. And now it was beginning to happen in public. She was asking for it, I told myself, and simply adding to the punishments she would have to endure. I restlessly shifted in my seat to give my eyes a chance to look around. It appeared that one woman in a facing seat across the aisle was on to us. She looked away the instant I looked at her. Damn! If this got any worse, I would have to leave the car just to save face. The worst case scenario of course, would be that someone I know picks up on our relationship and the word gets back to my home. The train arrived at my stop and I departed. I walked to my car with yet another hard on, a double in effect, one for her, and one to get her back. My day would come. Chapter ELEVEN It was Tuesday morning before I saw her again. I had changed to her train schedule for the duration, and waited as each time in the same car we departed from last time. She pulled the same trick as last time, but this time I was ready for her. The moment she came around the corner to the doorway of my car, she bumped into me. It was her turn to be surprised. I took her by the arm to coral her before we stepped off at Mineola. We said nothing as we walked up and over the railroad crossing, and down the other side. We turned right and walked quickly to the motel. Our reservation was waiting and the same clerk served up two keys, which I snapped up this time, and handed back my credit card. He also handed me the large bag I had left with the motel the night before on the way home. This caught the attention of my over confident Latina Woman. Finally, it was her turn to wonder. We went to the elevator, up to our floor and down the long hall to the suite. I noticed from the receipt that the clerk had done for me the same favor as last time and given us their best room at the economy price. The poor travel industry. Their loss of business in terrorist times, was our gain this day. We entered the room and I escorted her into the living room. I took her bag, considerably smaller this time, no more than an average leather purse, and put it on the bar. She simply stood there, as if awaiting my command. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable,” I said, carrying my much larger bag to the bar. She did as instructed, silently, though every bit as provocatively as she could. She was wearing the same outfit as last week, though I doubted I would see it changed into her sexier leather garments. Her hair was still styled in large waves cascading down her back and over her shoulder to her breasts. The skirt rode up her thighs as she sat and her loose fitting, thin material blouse was unbuttoned well below the top of her ample breasts. From that moment, she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. She stared forward, at nothing. I knew I was dealing with an experienced sub, and wondered if I was up to the challenge. “You really had your fun last week, didn’t you?” I was walking behind where she sat in the large, overstuffed chair, preparing for my first act of reprisal. “Yes Master. I was so bad. I will do anything to make it up to you.” Her voice was full of emotion! If she was play acting, one would be hard pressed to know it. And she had been bad, so bad I couldn’t get perhaps the most exotic experience of my life out of my mind. She had been very bad, yet oh so good. I stood behind her for a time, contemplating what she said, and how she had said it, and twiddling the eye mask in my hands. “Yes, you were bad all right, but I intend to set the record straight today.” I was totally new at the idea of being a Master, or even a Dom. It had been explained to me in the form of a kind of Pro vs Amateur status and skill respectively, and here I was a complete novice, working over a pro. I had read what I could, tried to understand others’ points of view, and in the end thrown my hands up in frustration and decided to take whatever course I felt comfortable with. Hell, once I had her tied up, there wasn’t anything she could do to complain or stop me anyway. “Please Master, I know I should not be so bold as to ask, but is there to be a safe word?” She asked politely, and respectfully, and pointed out my ignorance without trying to embarrass me. She also continued to look down at her feet, and not at me. “Yes, there is a safe word you ungratefull….” I still didn’t have the nerve to call her a slut or a bitch or anything else. I felt no true animosity toward her. She was frustratingly beautiful, curiously distant, and remarkably hot. She had not hurt me at all, and truthfully, she had given me perhaps the most intense orgasm I had ever had. For the first time, I realized she’d done all this, and I had let her, without a safe word! I blurted out in some foolish effort to save face, “And what the hell was my safe word? Huh?” “Your safe word Master was simply ‘No.’” I would have stopped the moment you said the word, intentionally or instinctively.” She kept her head bowed and added, “But please Master, if it pleases you, I would like to have a more difficult word. I may say ‘No,’ too often, I think. It is only fitting, after my insolence, that I be given a very difficult word to remember.” I was blown away yet again by this gorgeous Latina Woman. She sat there in an opposite persona form last week, and just as expert in the role. She was giving me her limits, while telling me there were virtually none. She was telling me that the safe word was the ONLY word upon which I had to stop what I was doing, that she was going to take whatever I could do to her. Hell, she was telling me to take my best shot, and in such a way as to make it my idea. I forced back the thought that even in submissive mode, or slave mode if that was what came of this, she was still in control. I was a fish out of water. In a frantic yet deliberate push, I brushed all the inferiority and inexperience aside and applied the blindfold. I wanted to set a few things up and didn’t want her to see. She remained seated and didn’t fight my actions at all. If anything, she was too passive. When I turned back to her after retrieving a few things from my bag, I saw her pull her hand from the blindfold. She had picked up one corner, but not tilted her head back to see. Curious I thought, until I realized she was taunting me. She probably didn’t want to see what I was doing anymore than I wanted her to, but she was playing as if she did, just to produce a reaction from her inexperienced Master. It was getting easier to see a “bitchy” side to her. “Is that right,” I sputtered, as if angry at the test. I saw her smile. That did it for me and I reached down and grabbed her ankles, picking them up to my chest, and twisted them before throwing them back down on the couch. This forced her over on her stomach, and her skirt rode up nearly to her waist. She let out a brief yelp at the rapid change, and then a sigh at the new position. I couldn’t help but see her continued smile. She was manipulating me as if it were last week and she had me tied up all over again. It was frustrating and insulting to my manhood, while almost affectionate in its longer ranging effect. I wanted this woman more at every turn, and wanted to slap her for it. Standing back from the couch to look at her, I spotted the garter strap emerging from beneath the bunched up skirt. It crossed the white skin of her thigh and fastened to the dark stocking. She was wearing a garter belt and hose, something that turned me on at the mere mention of it. I had somehow expected the usual pantyhose, and was very pleasantly surprised. “Your safe word is spinnaker.” I watched her reaction. It was probably a word she’d never heard before. As I expected, her head lifted slightly from the seat cushion, angled toward the sound of my voice and asked, “Spinnaker?” There was no way I was going to give her the satisfaction of a definition. On a sailboat, racing sailboats especially, when a skipper yells the word, as she undoubtedly would if in fear of something, the entire crew is expected to jump to the task of raising the huge balloon sail. It was a word that would break through any fog of passion I might be in at the time it was proclaimed, and therefore a very fitting alarm. I smiled at my instant success at my first real responsibility as a Master. She then asked in a weak voice, “Master, may I remove my skirt and blouse before they wrinkle further?” Practicality. She was right of course. I had had the same concern the previous week, but as a man, would say nothing of it. Fortunately, she had removed my clothes before the wrinkling settled in. Leave it to the woman to recognize AND act on a need. “Stand up.” I had intended to spank the little wench, but she was right. I decided there was no sense in doing something destructive to her clothing, especially when it did nothing to enhance the moment. She rose and began to unbutton her blouse, saying, “Thank you, Master.” Like someone turned on a switch, I transformed to the role I knew she wanted. The audacity she displayed in beginning to remove her clothes, without my approval, was the last incentive I needed to make the leap. “Stop that!” She froze, her fingers still on the second button she had attempted to undo. Her silence betrayed her sudden fear at the volume of my voice. Unable to see, she cocked her head an inch to one side, and turned it toward where my voice had come from. “Master? Didn’t you not tell me I could remove my blouse and skirt?” I didn’t know now if she was playing or truly surprised. “I did not!” I paused and then added, “I told you to stand up.” She obviously realized her mistake and a hint of a smile appeared on her face, I presumed because she was happy I had suddenly assumed my role. “Yes, Master, you are right, of course. Please accept my apology.” She bowed her head in shame. “Step over here.” I gave her nothing to go on but the sound of my voice. I had left my things on the bar and stepped over to the overstuffed chair and sat down. She followed my voice and stopped when she felt one of her feet come up against one of mine. “Kneel,” I told here with authority, but no longer in anger. She did so and remained in the position, back straight and face forward, toward me. I sat up and looked at her with great anticipation. I looked at her lips, lush and pouty and very red. Her hair still hung forward and back over her shoulders. Some of it flowed down over her blouse and left me in great anticipation of how it would look over her bare breasts. I reached out and undid the button she had been working on . The moment she felt my hands near, she breathed in deeply. My first instinct was to fear she was going to use the safe word already, but that instinct was my fear, not hers. She had simply sighed in a desire for further contact. She was about to get it, but on my schedule, not hers. I undid the remaining buttons, having to pull her blouse up from her skirt to reach the bottom two. I let the light material fall aside naturally, still covering her breasts, but revealing a black, lacey bra and her very soft skinned middle. I could also see the beginnings of her breasts, straining against the stretched material, begging for release, if not my touch. Their bulge behind the lace was indication enough for me that I was about to open a treasure I would remember for a long time. Reaching up toward her shoulders, I slipped my thumbs under the shirt and slid it slowly back off her shoulders, letting it take over the progress under its own weight and fall to the floor. I stood back and admired the proud beauty of my Latina Woman. She was magnificent. Her shoulders were perfectly proportioned for her body type and carried her upper torso like a banner at the head of column. Her breasts pushed through her cascading hair and dared me to touch them, to take them in hand and march with them wherever they went. Her stomach and sides were sound and tight and full of energy waiting to be released, to perform any act I demanded. I could sit there and just look at this magnificent woman for an hour, and then be satisfied just to touch her. But we didn’t have all day. We certainly had all morning, and a part of the afternoon, as far as I was concerned, but I didn’t want to miss a single thing so I began to reach for her skirt. “Is Master not pleased?” She asked, not knowing I was already moving on. I smiled at her concern. I was about to tell her just how damn happy and pleased I was, but decided that would be out of character. “Has your Master ever failed to tell you if he wasn’t pleased?” My voice was not angry, but stern. There was a blush on her face and her head bowed, “No, Master. Of course not. I am so sorry.” She was almost too good at the role. I truly felt like this woman had somehow justified giving herself over to me entirely. I felt I could tell her to walk up and down the train platform with nothing on, and she would do it. It was an incredible rush to think someone would do that for me, and yet an awesome responsibility to ensure I did not mistreat her in all this. I was trying, but the role was not coming easy. “Very well. Now,” I was a bit off balance, “Just remain still.” It was all I could do to not stutter and mumble my words. “Yes, Master,” She responded and froze. I looked her up and down once again. She was simply magnificent. Some would call her overweight, those people, usually women, who believe that crap in advertising that every woman needs a pencil thin body with no tits, and long blonde hair. What a fairy tale! It’s more like horror story! Some very few women look terrific in that definition, while most can’t carry it. And it’s not that they they are inadequate to do so, it is something entirely different. It’s like putting a convertible top on a limousine. It just ain’t the right thing to do! Can you imagine Gweneth Paltro in a size 8 with tits? Can you imagine Pamela Anderson without them? With all that said, this woman was meant to be a size 8, with a “10” for tits and looks! And yet, some guys would probably not look again. It’s all in the chemistry I guess, and the chemistry between this woman and me, all that mattered in the world at that moment, was nuclear. She was looking down still, trying to avert my eyes by looking slightly to the side. But I could tell by the slight upturn in the corner of her mouth that she could see my shaft straightening in my pants. I sure hoped anyway, that was the reason for the smile. Reaching forward, I ran my hands from the hem of her black leather skirt, up the sides to her waist. I reached around behind her just to get a sense of her glorious cheeks, and brought them back to her front. First came the belt. It unbuckled easily and the ends hung limply from the belt loops to either side. The clasp still holding her skirt followed. I felt more than heard her body budge as the tension in the material loosened slightly. Her face remained rather calm, but with just a hint of an edge emerging, perhaps just a touch of tightness in her lips. I was enjoying this more than anything I could remember, except the previous week of course. Nothing in my life topped that experience I had decided, not for eroticism anyway. I leaned into her enough to hold the waist band of her skirt with one hand, and pull the zipped down with the other. I wondered why she had a zipper in front, but wrote it off to a lot of other things I would never understand about women. The zipper came down easy, all the way to its bottom. There was another barely perceptible sigh from my Latina Woman, and I let the skirt go. It dropped minutely, hung there for a moment, and she wiggled her hips once each way, prompting the skirt to fall to the floor. “Did I tell you to move!” I was surprised at my own intensity, let alone the immediacy of my reaction. “No Master, I am so sorry.” There was noticeable tightness now in her neck. She’d done wrong, and apparently knew it, perhaps even more than I. I waited to see what would happen next, if anything. I sure as hell didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. “Please Master, punish me as I deserve. I must be taught I know, to obey your every command.” She bowed her head even more. I was shocked by the words, and intrigued by her demeanor. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was truly sorry, and truly in need of punishment, not just a little spank, but punishment! But at that moment, quite frankly, I was so deeply involved with the most recent disclosure of her body, I couldn’t have punished a crook for robbing me blind. She was wearing black, lacey, French cut panties, OVER the garter belt! I was not so dumb on this occasion as to get the hint behind that condition. I was however, even more dumbfounded and simply lost in fantasy about what lay beneath the sexy garment. I looked up at her once again, saw her definitely more tense than before, and then back at her loins. I couldn’t see clearly enough to verify it, but I was very suspicious that the panties were already damp. With all my preparation, all my fantasizing, all the anticipation of “getting her back” in a fashion I figured she wanted, I was suddenly speechless and frozen. Here was this deliciously dressed, deliciously hot lady, standing subservient before me, and I was lock jawed. I hesitated while I reached deep down inside me for a next move. “You are wet?” I threw the words at her angrily, “You appear before me already sexed?” I didn’t have the slightest idea what I was doing, but it seemed to be coming more smoothly the more I got into the stream. “You are wet! Aren’t you!” I rose on my feet, my body lifting me without instructions from my mind. If only, I thought, my body would show me the rest of the way through this day! “Oh Master, yes I am wet. I am so sorry, Master. I cannot control myself. I deserve your punishment Master.” She was nearly whimpering, not moving otherwise, but certainly cowering where she stood. I stepped around behind her once again and let one open hand fly to the right cheek of her ass. After it hit, I tried to pull back ninety percent of the force. It wasn’t something that would hurt her physically, I don’t think, but I let myself go just a bit too much. The smack reverberated throughout the living room of the suite. The Commuter Pt. 02 “Oh please, Master,” She paused long enough for me to think about the up coming safe word, Spinnaker, but she surprise me. “Another please Master. I need to be taught in your ways, Master.” This was beyond anything I had ever heard of. Sure, I had read a sample of just about every kind of basic BDSM story, but I’d never really felt as much a part of them as I was living right that moment. It had all been so remote, almost unreal, more fiction than reality. But this was really happening! It was now, my hand swinging a second time to catch the second cheek. “Whack!” Her body bolted under the blow, more from surprise than pain. “Oh thank you Master, I feel more aware now. I am sure I will please you from now on, Master.” This was just unbelievable. I had just smacked this glorious woman and she was thanking me. If I’d had any animosity for her at all, I might have enjoyed hurting her and continued. But I felt just the opposite, and wanted to get by this. I put my hands on her hips form behind, and drew them slowly and very lightly up her sides. Her head came back towards me, her eyes surely rolling in their sockets. I could guess that much from behind by the method of her movements. Her shoulders relaxed, her breathing becoming shallow, her skin so soft. My hands drifted up her sides, then around her front before reaching up to her breasts. I let them cup, under her blooming melons. She was exquisite. My own head leaned back, my eyes rolled in my sockets, and the two of us stood there like people gazing at the stars. My eyes closed, though I didn’t know it at the time, and my new sight was through my fingers as they encircled and roamed over her breasts. I let them cup and squeeze the firm and pliant flesh as my mind drifted and my cock rose up in my pants. They were so nice, so inviting, so gracious to let me fondle them so! “Ohhhh, my Master, that feels soooooo good. You are way too good to me.” She sounded as if she meant it. I opened my eyes in some surprise and continued to feel her mounds as I pulled our bodies together. My cock was hard enough that even through my pants I could feel its imprint pushing into her crack from behind. It was as if we “fit.” I had cocked my knees only slightly, since she still had on her heels, and our heights were not that far off. I was enjoying this too much and suddenly realized I was getting way off the track that I had set for my revenge. I dropped my hands, as hard as everything was, and pulled away from any contact with her. “Oh, no, Master! Don’t go, please!” I was so dumbfounded by her sudden animation that I would have accepted something like, “Enough of this! Fuck me now!” But that is not what she said. On the contrary, she cowered back into her face down and exclaimed, “OH! I am so sorry, Master! Please forgive me Master! I didn’t mean to order you around! Ohhhhhhhh Master….” We had reached a milestone. This was a point where we would turn, or continue. Either way we chose now would be with complete and total commitment to the end, whatever that end might be. I sensed more that she was willing to drop the role play, if I wanted to. I also sensed, from this time and what happened before, that such a turn was not what she really wanted in her fantasy of these encounters. By her silence, I knew in my heart that she was leaving the decision up to me, the obvious novice, and that she would go either way I decided. I decided with no hesitation to continue. It was her dream, and we were going to live it. She had carried the ball to here, and I wasn’t going to disappoint her on the edge of its being played. I had no idea if I could pull this off, but I was sure going to try. “On your knees! NOW!” Chapter ELEVEN “Your insolent behavior can no longer be ignored.” The scent of her hair wafted through my nostrils as I kneeled behind her to cuff her wrists. Leaning into her my head had settled just beside hers and I took the opportunity to stress my deepened voice for effect, right in her ear. “You will think twice about impertinent behavior next time, I assure you.” The ominous tone of my voice was as disturbing to me as it must have been to her. I sounded menacing and it was truly out of character for me, though much easier to accomplish than I would have thought. I looked down her front as my hands were finishing the cuffing of hers. Her bosom, bursting at the restraint of her black, lacey bra, was heaving with her breath. She was obviously in a heightened state of awareness, how much of which was actual fear I did not know. I only knew that my own nerves were on an edge as keen as if I were about to take my first dive off a bridge. She continued to sit on her heels, back straight, breasts standing proudly out before her. I rose and backed off to admire her. She was a vision of beauty and a dream of sexuality. She was so vulnerable, so innocent, yet so wantonly inviting my mind was having trouble keeping up with all the input. Her hair was still flowing some forward, and some back. My dick was hard beyond measure and it seemed as if this was going to become its permanent state. My knees were unsteady under the degree of power I wielded over her. My hands were moist, a condition I never knew before, not in war and not in all the crazy stunts I had pulled throughout my life. My lips were parsed, my tongue dry and my throat verging on scratchy. Did I really have this beautiful woman under my complete and utter control? The silence in the room was broken by the whistle of another commuter train on the way to the City. They went by frequently at this time of day, whisking a quarter million people to work in Manhattan. The noise was faint, though its contrast in the silence of the suite, deafening. It seemed to break a spell of contemplation for each of us for just as I was about to speak, my Latina Woman said, “Please Master, ask me anything. I have wronged you, upset you, and deserve to be punished. You may do with me as you wish, of course.” Her head bowed from the level, and she resigned herself to whatever fate I could muster. I had intended to drop out of character to ask her if she wanted to continue, but that question was no longer in doubt. She had just reaffirmed that she was prepared to go, all the way. Though I had no idea yet what that meant, I resigned myself to finding out, and hoped her definition was something this side of my own. If I were asked to truly hurt her in any way, I knew I would fail and leave her unfulfilled. But until that point is reached, I decided I was prepared to do just about everything else. And it was time to get on with it. Chapter TWELVE I walked to her front and stood directly before her, my groin a couple inches from her face. With my right hand, I pulled my zipper down while my left reached behind her head and grabbed a handful of that gorgeous red hair. The motions were quick and she had no chance to do anything but open her mouth as my cock forced its way in. “You will first learn respect, my little bitch.” The words tripped in my throat, but I got them out as I felt her mouth close down on my shaft. She was hot inside, her tongue rasping at the bottom of my member, shoving it up against the roof of her oral tunnel. While her wet lips wrapped tightly around my pole and began to suck, I pulled back for another attack. “You are not sucking hard enough! Do you understand that?” I shook her head by her hair, an action that served more to accentuate her movements on my cock than to frighten her. She mumbled something unintelligible through her engorged mouth and I rammed my hardened meat back into her throat. To my surprise, I felt her head drive an extra inch toward me, most assuredly in an attempt to have me enter her throat and gag her. I obliged her on the next plunge and pulled her hair up behind her head, over its top, and toward me hard. She squealed and suddenly went silent with a grunt as my cock made it to the other side. I had this vision flash through my mind, of my cock, as seen from a cross section in a side view. Her lips were wrapped tightly around its base. Her tongue was under it, struggling to work like a piston and pump forward and back on the sensitive skin of its intruder. There was some space around the shaft, alternately occupied by her sucking cheeks, then opened again as she expelled the cock from her throat to breath. Finally, on each in-stroke, the tissue of her throat would part to pull the intruder in, to let it occupy its entire airway, to wrap it, to tighten on it and eventually eject it with all the pressure and friction it could muster. And then the sudden rush of air would burst from within, not, warming my cock on its rushing by. My head fell back and my mouth opened. She was so good at what she was doing, and so expert the previous week at what she had done to me, I had no choice but to consider the possibility of a “Pro.” Was I being played for a dummy? Nothing she had done, I quickly decided, except for her expert handling, leant any credence to the theory. She had never mentioned money. Our resumption of our amorous ways a week after our first effort was totally voluntary, for both of us. She had no stake in this but what we were both putting into it – pleasure in exchange for passion and imagination. Once again, I pushed the second guessing back and plunged back into my dream. I erupted in a blow of sperm laden cum that went directly down her throat to her womb on every in-stroke assault. The woman hummed her approval. She wanted my seed as much as my seed wanted her. She sucked it down without a drop spilling out. My orgasm was intense, though nothing like the one I’d had at the end of our previous meeting. I came with a hearty gusto for the contact and the release. I enjoyed her “service” and felt compelled to reward her. She had made amends for her wrong. If noting else, I would not be so quick to shoot again for awhile while I went to work. “Thank you. You did that very well.” She finished swallowing, sucking my cock clean, and bowed her head again. “Thank you Master. I am so glad I could please you.” She was simply too much for me to deal with. It was like someone putting me in a swimming pool full of gold coins. What do you do next? I was truly glad I had anticipated this kind of dilemma. I had a plan. “Get up.” I helped her by the arm and removed her blindfold. Her eyes squinted in the sunlit room. The gauzy curtains let light but not definition through, negating any need for additional lighting for what I intended to do. I released her wrists form the cuffs and instructed her, “Go make us some coffee. And there are some things in that insulated bag to put in the refrigerator.” As an after thought, I added, “And don’t look in that bag.” While she went about her work, dressed only in her bra and hose with garter belt, covered only by the matching French cut panties, I watched from the bedroom. As I worked I kept sneaking looks and continued to be awed by her body and motion. Her breasts heaved, rather than rippled with motion, firm and full and held by her brassiere. Her butt cheeks bumped each time she put down another step, jiggling her flesh in anticipation of my next attack. On one occasion, as she was plugging in the armed and readied coffee pot, I caught her looking my way. She must have been curious as to what I was about. I waited until she executed the last of her chores and ventured forth from the bedroom. “You looked, didn’t you.” My words were soft, barely audible, as I went to the coffee pot as if to examine her work. “I’m sorry Master?” She was looking directly at me when I turned and I assumed I had caught her yet again, going against what must be her rule to never make eye contact. The short period of time with the blindfold had dropped her guard and now she was being a bit sloppy. Either that, or she was exercising that damnable control a good sub can wield so cleverly, and coyly lying to prompt a response. She could very well have been pushing my buttons, but I didn’t know for sure. “There. You looked at me again Didn’t you?” Again I kept my voice intentionally low, trying to be calm while she was making mistake upon mistake. She was somewhat off balance. She even straightened and equalized her weight on both feet. Looking down at her feet finally, she acknowledged, “Why, yes, I did Master.” It was clear to me that she had simply assumed the rules to be more relaxed. My earlier tentativeness must have helped create this false confidence in her. She was only beginning to realize that I was not going to be the wimp she may have feared. My face and voice turned angry. “Turn around!” She did as she was told, and I saw just a hint of fear in her eyes. I pulled the first of several pieces I had tucked in my belt in behind me. I wrapped it around her waist and secured it snuggly behind her. It rode just above her hips, and at the top of her garter belt. I figured she knew what it was, for she was looking down again, and saw it go on. She would have to be worse than inexperienced to not recognize the belt with stainless steel rings in it. I reapplied the blindfold next, wanting to literally keep her in the dark as to what I intended with all the rings around her waist. She continued to look down while I reapplied the cuffs to her wrists. I couldn’t help but be reminded of how severely she had secured me, and yet the effects all the restraints had. I was fine if I could remain perfectly still, but of course that was physically impossible. She had nipple clamped me to my lower scrotum and just breathing created enough motion to set my wheels to spinning. The rest of the tires worked to feed from and augment that movement, taking full control of my body and the resulting cataclysmic orgasm. I would work to give her an equal climax of course, but not the same way, at least not completely. I pulled her wrists to her waist and clipped them to the steel rings to the side and rear on her new belt. This continued to force her chest forward, while keeping her hands out of the way for lying on her back, or front. It was also not the usual place to secure them, and anything out of the usual was on the table as far as I was concerned. I moved around in front of her and admired my work, and her body much more. Her breasts were just too much to resist. They were taunting me, begging to be fondled, yet too proud to bounce around and ask me. I moved up close to her, turned her around, back against the bar, and surprised her with a quick lift to its surface. She sat there with her mouth open, holding back the instinct to shout at the shocking movement. Once settled there, she said, while looking down, “Master is very strong!” Her voice had a mocking edge to it. I took it as an insult and brought my hands down firmly on the tops of her thighs, now just below my shoulder level. They smacked her flesh in unison and left a loud smack in the air. She jerked upright and regained her Sub control. “I did not ask you what you thought.” I kept my words soft, but firm, articulate, commanding. Then I spread her knees abruptly and spread them wide. “You are being insolent one occurrence after another. If you keep this up, you are going to be very sorry.” I dropped my hands down on her thighs again, this time more to the inside. I could already see my lingering pink hand prints on her skin from the first slap, but now there were two prints on each thigh. For the first time this week, her scent wafted out at me in full bloom. I could easily see how wet her panties were in the crotch, and could smell her aroma of lust coming up to greet me. I was glad she was wearing the blindfold for I nearly lost my balance when I closed my eyes and dreamed for a moment in her air. When I opened again, I saw the hint of a smile on her face, telling me she knew by instinct exactly what I was about. I reached up, and against my personal wish, gripped each of her nipples in between a thumb and forefinger, and pulled and twisted, then let them pop back. The bra might have lessened the pull, but it did nothing to lessen the rebound. I watched her face tighten and her neck muscles tense with the snap. She was visibly shaken by the action of her breastly buds, though not hurt I was sure. This I hoped, was exactly what she was looking for, or at least part of it. I was rewarded with, “Thank you Master. I deserve your punishment.” Was I actually getting the hang of this? I next let my hands slide down over her stomach, over her navel, and glide still further to just above her mound. Her body was straining to move under my touch, but refusing to give in. She was proud and wanted to show her self-control. She was taken with her role and wanted to be the best there was. She was deeply impassioned and wanted this day to bring out and satisfy every lust she could imagine. She was so determined, so alive I felt a sense of huge responsibility. I had read that this might occur in a good Master, the taking on of obligation to satisfy a sub in entirely different ways. I was both taken aback by this, as well as charged with a desire to succeed. I would give my Latina Woman everything I had to fulfill her dream. Sliding my hands from the sides of her waist down over her wide hips, crossing the garter belt and panties, grazing the smooth skin of her upper thighs, I was rock hard with anticipation. I wanted to push her back on the floor if need be, and fuck her into oblivion. But that was not the right approach. For now, I had work to do, work that was sensuously tortuous punishment to her body, and tantalizing pleasure to her mind. “Spread your legs more!” I spoke softly still, but with a commanding tone that left no ambiguity to my desires. While she shifted back and forth on her legs to push one then the other to the sides, I took the opportunity to reach in my pants and free my stiffening pole from the confines of fabric. It stood tall within my shorts and felt so comfortable suddenly, able now to stretch out and feet itself against my lower abdomen. It was content for the moment. I was sure when I looked that I saw another of those up turned corners on her mouth. Could she decipher what I had just done? Was she reveling in the fact that she was turning me on by doing nothing but following my instructions? I decided not to pursue the thought further for I already had other challenges on my mind. I have brought all kinds of things I had purchased or otherwise acquired during the previous week in anticipation of this day. And now, I hardly felt I needed them. The slow pace of my advances on this beautiful woman were so tantalizing, to us both I am sure, we were quite content as it was. I crossed my arms at my wrists and applied a palm to the inside of each of her knees. The sensation of confusing contacts quickly captured my attention while my hands began to knead the area, particularly behind her knees. She was definitely one of those people who is sensitive there for I heard her gasp and felt as well as saw her knees bend, before getting control and going stiff again. I applied similar pressure a few more times, eliciting a similar response on each occasion. I simply smiled. Sliding my hands higher I found it my turn to be breathless. Her thighs were firm but pliable to my fingers, even through the hose. As I reached the top of the stockings and began to touch her flesh, my hands sensed her heat, still several inches from her panty clad, wet cunt. I pushed my hands back further to massage the back of her thighs, then pulled them forward again. She sighed again. She wanted my hands to climb up and give her some satisfaction in her groin, but I continued to linger just outside the area. Then I picked her up and stood her before the bar. “Turn around,” I ordered. She did so, with a slight groan when I withdrew my hands. The Commuter Pt. 02 “You cannot keep your comments to yourself, can you!” I closed behind her and reached around to her sizeable breasts. For the first time, I held them, or as much of them as I could, firmly in my hands. She gasped again at the sudden more robust contact. Her second serious breach of noise in a few short seconds prompted me to pull her nipples again, though not before I managed to get a thorough feel of their mounts. I pulled her nipples like before, though perhaps just a bit further, and let them snap back once again. She squealed under the pain, pushing her ass back into me in an involuntary reflex. “You speak when not spoken to, you grunt and groan under punishment, and then you lash out at me with your body!” Turning the two of us to the side, I slipped one hand to her stomach and brought the other back behind her neck and applied pressure to bend her over. “Bend over, Woman!” I kneeled behind her. “Yes Master,” She said simply, though with a tone of anticipation. She dropped her upper torso. The lashing of her hands to her waist belt helped actually in holding this position. With just a little natural pressure applied by stretching her arms beside and behind her, she found that she was somewhat supported and relaxed in leaning over. Her head was slightly below her hips, her hair cascading down over her head and nearly touching the floor. I slapped her right cheek with my right hand, leaving a vivid pink hand print on her ass. I did the same with my left hand on her other cheek and saw pink from the portion of each hand that had smacked her beyond her French cut panties. The remainder of my damage was surely lurking beneath the lace. She couldn’t help but squeal after each slap. I stopped for a moment, as if surprised. “You liked that didn’t you?” She blurted out, as if holding in the admission for far too long, “Oh yes, Master. I love it when you spank my ass. I deserve to be spanked by you Master.” She dropped her head as if to try and look between her legs at me, despite her blindfold. “You like me to hurt you? Is that what you just said?” I acted incredulous, but was far more curious. “Why do you like being spanked, Woman?” There was no hesitation yet again. My Latina Woman blurted out, “Because I am a slut, Master. My body betrays me and wants to be mischievous. You see,” She moved her ass from side to side in my face, “It wiggles for more, Master. I cannot stop it. Please help me control it.” I slapped each cheek again. This time the fingerprints overlapped the first battering and reddened more of her skin. “Oh thank you Master. Thank you. Please, Master, more.” She was becoming demanding in her tone. When I did nothing further, taking the time instead to understand what she was about, she suddenly pushed her ass back right into my face. Whack! I smacked her with more than a little agitation. She was being insolent, but was it on purpose, or out of wantonness? I decided on the latter, fortunately for her, and said, “You’ll just have to earn my attention you insolent little bitch. Who do you think you are!” She pulled her ass out of my face as fast as she had wiggled it in there. I was sure now that her wantonness was the culprit. She confirmed this when she apologized, “I am so sorry Master. Please forgive me. I am so in need of your punishment, Master. I deserve whatever you have for me now, Master, but please, oh please give it to me now.” This was more than I bargained for. I expected the apology, but the demand for more? That caught me off guard and mixed my emotions like a blender all over again. I was satisfied with my progress, my effect on the Latina Woman of my fantasies, but downright pissed at her impertinence, and confused at her insatiability. I was truly becoming the role she wanted me to play. Chapter THIRTEEN I wanted at that moment to throw this woman down on the bed in the next room and fuck her brains out. And I knew she wanted that too. But I also knew she wanted more than that. She wanted me to do a lot more. She wanted to be dominated and she wanted to be punished. And she wanted no other person in the world at that moment to do it but me. The responsibility was growing and I was not sure I was able to handle it. I wondered with some trepidation if I could fulfill her fantasy. Could I last long enough to give her what she wanted? Still eager to try, I rose, stepped sideways to the bar, and reached into my bag and brought out a vibrating egg. It was silver, about two inches long, and maybe an inch and an eighth in diameter. It had a wire hanging from it a good eight inches. On its end was a bead, about a half inch in diameter. When she heard me rustling in something away from her, she began to straighten. I turned when I heard her stir. “Are you deliberately trying to piss me off, Woman?” I stepped back behind her and gave her another slap on the ass. She whimpered once more and apologized all over again. This was becoming a ritual. I was getting the point. She wanted a consistently spiraling fall into depravity and punishment, and she wanted it to have started a half hour ago. She was getting impatient with me and was now performing deliberate acts of provocation to keep me moving along. But it was my decision, not hers, to manage the pace. And if I saw it addled her to be slow, I was going to slow further. If I did it right, I felt, I would be able to enhance, not detract from her fantasy. But I admitted to myself she needed to move on with this program. Without saying a thing, I pulled her panties down in the middle of her crotch while I moistened the egg with my mouth. In one quick motion, I reached out with that hand and popped the little monster into her pussy and was not surprised that she seemed to suck the device in faster than I could push it. She groaned with appreciation at the contact and wiggled her butt in an effort to feel it more. Her legs were still apart so she didn’t feel the bead yet, nor did she feel the vibration the device was capable of. I was saving that for later. I rose again and stepped over to the bar and my bag. This time I came back with mid-sized butt plug and lubed it up with a little of my saliva once again. She was still bent over when I pulled the waist band of her panties in back and quickly shoved the plug up against her hole. This time it would not be so easy. There was less lubrication and a far more severe restriction for a much large intruder. Her sphincter fought the plug fiercely at first and I simply kept the pressure on it. She groaned with the pain as the muscle finally relaxed and the plug popped about half of its length up her hole. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Master… that is so good to me…. You are.. ugh.. more Master, all the way, please Master.” She was in agony and begging for more. She knew by now what was penetrating her ass and that it got wider before it would narrow and lock itself home. Yet, she wanted more. As her ass began to wiggle and push back at me to push against the device and drive it home, I teased her by letting it go. Instead of driving in, she realized quickly that each movement prompted me to let it out. “Oh Master, I am so sorry. Please punish me for my wrong. I am so bad, Master.” She stopped her motion and stood there, bent at the waist and her panties down to her thighs. I shoved the plug in the rest of the way with the palm of my hand. I heard a plopping sound as its widest part cleared the entrance and let the sphincter muscle relax. She froze. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh my god!” Her exclamation was this time not accompanied by body motion. She was learning. She was in control of her punishment once again. She had recognized that fighting her natural reaction was the way to succeed. She realized she had to fight her emotions, her bodily tendencies, and freeze and accept the changes that were made upon and within her. On this one occasion, she succeeded in interrupting her physical reaction. I took one more device, another radio controlled vibrator and shoved it into the rubber butt plug. Rising a final time from the chair I gave her another spank, more a love tap than a slap, and filled my nostrils with the scent of her hair from behind. My next move was to put a hand to either side of her head, gather up the upper ends of her hair, and pull the whole lot back in a bundle. I retrieved another tie from my belt in back and wrapped it around her hair as close to her head as I could. Pulling it tightly, yet trying to spare her the pain of pulling individual strands taut, I worked carefully and finally had them wrapped most tightly. I knew this would probably put a nasty kink in her hair later when removed, but I figured there was a hair dryer in the bathroom if she wanted to blow it before going home. What do I know! When she was smiling at the attention I was giving her hair, she had no idea what was to come next. Standing behind her, I pulled the hair abruptly, pulling her head back severely. She had no choice but to let it rock back and lessen the pressure on her follicles. I quickly tied off the tail from the hair “cuff”. It was now secured to the waist belt, and held her head in a face upward position. Without waiting for her to accustom herself to the awkward position, I walked her into the bedroom and stood her at the foot of my new playing field. My bag in the other room was needed before I was to go further and I needed to retrieved it while she stood where she was. “Master?” She was speaking to the ceiling. “May I ask a question?” I hesitated before heading back to the living room. “Do you remember the safe word?” I asked her with no anger at all. ”Yes master I do, but that is not what I…..” Whack! Her butt cheeks were still bare from her panties having been dropped to her thighs. The cheek I just smacked turned red with my hand print, for it was a harder than normal effort. She went quiet, still quivering from the assault. I went back into the living room and retrieved all the cushions from the couch and stuffed chair. Laying them in a line on the floor to the side of the bed, I then covered them with a sheet torn from the mattress and threw down the four pillow to the side. Quickly, I moved her over to the foot of this line of cushions and turned her around. “Stand firmly straight.” I ordered her, and began to rock her back in my arms. I let her down slowly on the cushions and adjusted the upper one under her head do as not to put pressure on her hair. This meant that her head was now hanging off the end of the cushions, and facing the wall across the room. It was perfect. I went once again to the bag and retrieved a shortened telescoping pole, and extended it to its three-foot length. It had what appeared to be cuffs on the ends, but much larger than that those used on one’s wrists. With me standing at her feet, I inserted my legs between hers and pushed hers apart. Looking down into her crack, I could see the radio tails on both devices indicating they were still in their proper places. I continued to push her legs apart and finally dropped down on my knees and applied the spreader between and just above her knees. My captive groaned under the control. It was apparent to her already what was happening, or at least some of it. She knew she was most likely in for an assault on her mouth, and probably more action between her amply spread legs. Just how it was all to take place, she did not know, but was anxious to find out. It was time to remove her bra. Fortunately, it clasped in front. I undid the clasp and slowly peeled away the material guarding those divine mountains of joy for me. Her nipples were extended and hard as my cock. Her areole were raised in lust, pushing the nipples even higher. I wanted those tits so bad I could taste them already, but I would wait until just the right moment. Time to move on. I brought yet another device to her now, a pair of substantial nipple clamps. These however were accompanied by some sort of strapping like a harness, that she had no idea was there, at least at that moment. I first attached the clamps and provoked another groan but no words from her. I then applied the harnesses which amounted to straps attached to a common central tugging line above her nipples, and which were meant to reach down and wrap around a large breast. I secured them easily for her breasts were most large, and most malleable. She groaned again, but this time in wonder and concern, rather than pleasure or pain. This was new to her and just as she was becoming familiar with the sensations, I reached over her and pulled the spreader bar up, raising her knees toward her head, and her feet off the floor. I quickly attached it to the tugging line from each of her breasts and held it there for a moment to check my work. I was ready, for she was ready. Very slowly, I relaxed the hold on the spreader bar. I felt no taking up of the slack by her, while it pulled the slack out of the line to her breasts and nipples. The moment she felt the tug there, and the corresponding motion in her knees however, she knew what was happening. It would take her only a few moments to figure out that though she had much more support from the breast straps, she still had to keep her knees up to prevent straining her tits or nipples beyond pleasurable pain. I stood up to look at my captive Latina Woman. Her hair was arrayed above her head on the floor, flung in wisps of red and brown and inviting. Her eyes were blinded and her head tilted back to rest on the soft blanket I had placed beneath it. Her mouth was naturally open in that pose, to keep the strain off her neck muscles. Her hands were still secured to her sides at the level of the cushions, which gave her a slight ability to support her self and render assistance to her torso if she chose to move it. The spreader bar separated her knees which were up and tilted somewhat comfortably toward her chest, held there not by force, but by the threat of pain. By the same token, strapped as they were to her breasts, she executed some modicum of control over the pleasure the ties and clips gave her tits. Between her legs, the tails of the egg and butt plug were lying askew on her loins. She was wide open for anything I wanted to do, but I wanted to do nothing there, on this first scenario. I knew that some women get off on sucking a man’s cock to the point that they can actually cum just from the excitement of it. If there was a chance in hell this woman would or could feel this way, I was setting the stage as conveniently as I could for her. She was like a rubber doll, awaiting my any and every wish, and yet this was all not for me, but for her. I would soon know if I had accomplished anything in reading her, and responding. I picked up the remotes and fingered one. The reaction she gave to the sudden vibration in her pussy was just short of violent. Her legs were first to react, pushing up and out. This of course pulled equally on her tits and nipples. She gasped a huge breath and over reacted with her knees, bringing them back up toward her chest. My suspicion was correct in that she immediately learned that if she brought her knees up enough, the bar would touch her tortured tits and the nipple clamps. This woman had let me cum in a similar circumstance just a week ago. I had the most explosive orgasm of my life in that instance. I couldn’t believe my emotions and reaction at the time, but never wanted it to stop. I could only hope that I was doing something similar for her. I let the vibrator stop. Her reaction was to immediately relax. Her knees went a bit too slack, and had to be pulled back up to end the pain on her nipples, but she went quiet again in the position she had started from. It was time to take her to the next level. Kneeling either side of her head, I positioned myself to take the next plunge. And a plunge it was as I brought my stiff cock down to her open mouth and right in, taking her totally by surprise. She mumbled something through the filled orifice, but I was listening closely and it was only one syllable, a moan, not the “Spinnaker” safe word. I left my shaft three quarters of the way into her mouth and touching the back of her throat for several seconds, until she settled again. Each time she moved, her tits and nipples were getting a work over, and nothing else was feeling a thing. I withdrew my cock to the head and pushed it back. I would not push it home. That was up to her. If I was right, she would soon be lifting her head to meet my meat. If not, I would not be choking her involuntarily. She took me down on the very next plunge. Her throat closed around the head of my shaft and sucked me hard. I knew I wasn’t going to last very long under the circumstances. This gorgeous Woman was secured erotically beneath me and I was buried in her mouth and throat. I pulled back to let her breath and she aggressively pushed her head up to suck me back in. I think she was actually using her wind pipe to draw me in more effectively. We rocked a few times like this, letting her execute her own limited plan under the circumstances that faced her. Then I triggered the cuntal vibrations again. Her head bounced back off my cock, scooped in a lung full of air, and rammed back up over my pole. There was no question I was to sit still while she worked her magic on the both of us. But that did not prevent me from working elsewhere. I stopped the cuntal vibration and triggered the butt plug. At first she moaned her disapproval at the absence of stimulation. Then she gobbled me all over again at the anal replacement. She was quickly moving up to another level of consciousness, or down to one, where only certain sensations existed. It was as if she were able to block out all external influences in her life. All that was getting through and occupying her every thought was within her space on the cushioned floor. She was taking charge of the two of us! I turned off the anal plug and felt the immediate withdrawal of her mouth from my cock. She was exercising control over me! That Latina Woman, bound and blindfolded, was controlling me! The little bitch had more nerve than a battlefield warrior. I was at once angered, and yet subservient to her actions! If I turned off her vibrations, she turned off her suction. I was so infuriated I wanted to slap her silly, and yet… Whether she was punishing me, or simply trying anything she could to get the sensations in her ass to resume, I didn’t know. That alone prevented me from acting on her harshly. One thing I was sure of, was that as intense as she was, and with her teeth wrapped entirely around my shaft, I wasn’t going to frustrate her for long. I reached across her breasts, stomach, and mound, and put my palm on her pussy. With the top of my palm against her clit, and the vibrator still inside, I felt her first orgasm arise. She bucked her knees toward her chest, her head up my cock, and I could see her pushing off the cushions with her clenched hands. Her body began bucking up and down, careful not to let her knees pull on the breast and nipple restraints, but gyrating through ever other motion and twist and turn it could. My Latina Woman was experiencing massive satisfaction. It subsided and sometime later, and she began to relax her body. She moaned around my cock again as I began to withdraw and give her a break. But she was having none of that. She pushed her head up as far as she could, devouring me, closing on my shaft and touching her teeth to its surface remarkably far up its length. That was what I was afraid of I told myself, and prepared to use the safe word in the event she got carried away. Me use the safe word? It was humiliating! My Latina Woman let go however, when I let my shaft re-penetrate her throat. She was comfortable with it there, wanted it there. She worked her head up and down from there to feel it in her throat and pull on its head. I allowed myself to feel some sort of mastery over the bitch, to relish my power, when I knew, probably not even as well as she did, that the roles here were clearly not what they might seem. Was this yet more of my education?