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Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 01

By: adoration



Aunty Caroline, at 38 two years younger than her sister, my mother, Carolina, called out from downstairs that she was off into town to the supermarket to do some shopping. I was upstairs unpacking after the train ride from London to Brighton and I called out "OK, aunty", then I heard the front door slam.

I was looking forward to a fortnight's holiday with aunty, suggested by my mother as a well-earned break from my university studies - I'm studying human sexuality.

When I had unpacked, I stripped nude and studied myself in the long mirror of the wardrobe. I'm a rather dumpy five feet two inches, but my height helps make my 34-inch breasts look larger than they really are. I tweaked my nipples, enjoying the slight pang of pain and the way they became hard.

I've got a taut little belly and a nicely trimmed pubic bush, trimmed back so much that you can see my piss flaps clearly. I've got a rather prominent backside, and one of my lecturers has described it as "eminently spankable" - I'm sure she's a lesbian!

I'm quite proud of my figure, but I'd be the first to admit it's not a touch on Aunty Caroline's, who was - about 10 or 12 years ago, I guess - a Penthouse Pet of the Month.

She's tall, about five feet 10 inches, with lovely lush, firm 36-inch breasts and legs that go on forever, as they say. She's got raven-black hair, cut in a severe bob, and her pussy hair, although severely cut in the Penthouse spread, is also jet black. All right, I confess, I rather fancy her!

After putting all my clothing for the holiday away, I decided to explore. Wearing only my red leather platform shoes, I clopped my way across the landing into aunty's bedroom.

It was much bigger than my guest room, with a large bed covered in shiny black satin sheets, with matching satin-covered pillowcases. At the foot of the bed were two high posts - ideal for bondage, I thought. Hey, I'm a student of sexuality, right?

Along one entire wall was a large walk-in wardrobe. I thought I'm here, I'll walk in. Why not? I'm nosy, OK? As I opened the door, bright strip lighting lit up the wardrobe's contents.

In the first section hung dresses, slacks, overcoats, raincoats, all the usual stuff you'd expect to find in a wealthy woman's wardrobe. But in the far end, it was something else again! I'd describe it as a collection of erotic clothing that would be a pervert's paradise!

On the racks hung PVC corsets, playsuits, leather bras and panties, crotchless panties, quarter-cup bras, lingerie in silk, satin, PVC, you name it. Then there were paddles, whips, even a rubber cat o' nine tails.

Suddenly, my exploration was brought to an abrupt halt by the voice of my aunt. "So, Samantha, I see you've discovered my little secret!" I turned to face her, noting that she didn't sound pissed. "Er, hello aunty, I thought you'd gone shopping?" was my lame response.

Aunty Caroline grinned: "I had, but half-way to the shops I realised I'd forgotten my list - and I'm useless without my list." Then she asked sweetly: "And tell me, my dear, what do you deduce from my little collection here?"

I gulped and said the first thing that came into my head - and it was the truth: "Well, aunty, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were a practising dominatrix and these are the clothes and the tools of your trade."

Aunty Caroline looked at me with a somewhat sly smile and began to give me a slow handclap. "Well done, my dear Watson," she replied, "you've solved the case in one. And tell me, you clever little student of human sexuality, you, what do dominatrixes do?" 

She still sounded completely at ease, not cross, so I responded: "Well, a dominatrix is someone who dominates people, males mostly, who ..." And then my voice trailed away as I saw a sudden look of temper light up my aunt's face.

Moving close to me, her breasts heaving in the taut red satin blouse, her thighs strongly outlined in her black leather mini, Aunty Caroline flashed out a beautifully manicured hand and grabbed me by the ear.

"A dominatrix doesn't always dominate males, you snooping little trollop," she snapped, cracking the words out like whip strokes. "Sometimes they punish people they catch prying into their private business."

Aunty then proceeded to drag me out into the bedroom, where she threw me face down onto the bed. "Now stay there till I get back, you little bitch!" she spat, as I lay on the satin sheets, heart thumping, breasts heaving.

She then stepped back into the wardrobe and I heard a rustling of clothes. When she re-emerged the sight that greeted me was not Aunty Caroline, but of a former Penthouse Pet-turned-dominatrix!

Gone was the blouse and mini skirt. Instead, Aunty Caroline stood at the foot of the bed in a retro-look domination outfit. Her lush breasts were encased in a black silk bra which was see-through, her large nipples erect and straining at the material.

On her hips was a slender black garter belt, which held up her shiny black stockings. On her middle a pair of black silk panties was so sheer the black pubic thatch was plainly visible.

She looked stunning!

But the thing that caught my eye mostly, after I had drunk in her formidable, haughty beauty was the black leather paddle which she was slapping slowly but ominously against her bare thigh where the bottom of the panties ended and the top of one stocking started.

Aunty Caroline stepped to the foot of the bed and sat down. "Now, my dear Sam," she said, in a voice which was now sweet and soothing, "what happens to naughty little nieces who pry?"

I swallowed deeply. I was no longer a 20-year-old university student of human sexuality, I was a naughty little girl, ready to bend over my mum's lap for a well-deserved spanking - or, rather, in this case, my aunt's. "They get punished, aunty," I replied, hearing a strange, husky sound in my voice.

"That's right, you wicked little minx," said aunty, "they get punished and then all is forgiven. All, that is until the next time."

"The next time?" I asked from my prone position on the bed. "Correct," said Aunty Caroline, "the next time, because with wicked little nieces there's always a next time."

Then she was all business again. "Now, Sam, over my lap, quickly!" And in a flash I rose from the bed and lay across her lovely thighs, the toes of my platforms scraping the floor, my hands stretched out to touch the carpet on the other side of her body.

Suddenly I felt a thrill run through me as her cool hand traced across my taut buttocks, the fingers flicking ever-so-slightly across my sex lips. But the thrill was instantly banished by the crack of her right hand smacking down onto my right buttock. And again. And again.

The blows were not rat-a-tat, but spaced out. Between each spank, Aunty Caroline traced her fingers ever-so-gently across my sex, before delivering the next blow. After 12 strokes, she stopped and picked up the paddle, which she waved teasingly in front of my face.

"Time for Mistress Paddle, I think, don't you Sam?" "Yes, aunty," I agreed, my voice slightly above a hoarse croak.

Then the paddle cracked against my right buttock. A pause, to let the pain sink in, I guessed, then another, a pause, then another. After six strokes, she stopped. "Now don't worry, I'm just checking something," said aunty.

And I felt the thrill as her fingers traced over my piss flaps, then one probed my cunt, before delving further down to my clitoris. "One aroused little miscreant, eh?" I heard her say, detecting what I thought was a tremor of excitement in her voice.

"Yes, aunty," I whispered, feeling the thrills pounding through my pussy. "Righto, Sam," said Aunty Caroline, business-like again, "now switch sides so I can work on your left cheek."

I stood and lowered myself in the reverse position. Aunty continued her punishment, a dozen strokes with her hand, followed by about half a dozen with her paddle.

At last it was over and I was allowed to stand. I started to place my hands behind me to rub my burning cheeks, but aunty slapped them away. "Leave them alone, my dear," she instructed, "I want to check out the heat there."

Then she stood and facing me, only inches away from my naked body, she peeled off her panties, before tossing them down on the bed. "Stand in the middle of the foot of the bed, stretch your arms out and grasp the bed posts," she commanded.

I did so, then felt the incredible coolness of aunty's buttocks rubbing side to side against mine. "Hmmm, yes, they are really lovely and warm, aren't they?" she said. "Yes, aunty," I answered, not wanting her buttock-to-buttock massage to stop.

Then I felt her stand close behind me, her mons pressing against the small of my back, her hands moving across my belly, up my rib cage to my breasts, which she cupped and stroked. I hardly dared breathe, it was so exciting.

"Now what do you say, pet?" she asked, her mouth hovering over my ear. "Thank-you, aunty," I said, my heart going pit-a-pat as I felt her firm breasts pressing against my shoulder blades.

"And tell me, Sam, do you think there's a special way you can thank aunty for giving you that spanking you so richly deserved?" She was excited, I could tell, her pussy was pressing against me still, her hands roaming all over my boobs.

I took a deep breath and groaned: "There could be a special way, if what I'm thinking is what you're thinking, aunty," I told her, my heart thumping like a jackhammer.

Aunty kissed me on the right ear, while gently stroking my nipples to maintain their erections. "I'll tell you what part of me wants to be thanked, if you tell me what part of you should do the thanking, my dear little niece," Aunty Caroline said, barely able to control her voice.

In a voice which I am sure echoed her excitement, I whispered back: "Tell me where you want to be thanked, darling aunty."

Her right hand left my breast and traced a sliding path to my pussy, where her fingers brushed over my clit. "I want you to thank my pussy, my darling," she almost hissed in my ear.

I took another huge gulp and threw all inhibitions away: "I want to thank your pussy with my mouth, aunty!"

Immediately, Aunty Caroline placed her hands up against my wrists and pulled them from the bedposts, then put a hand around my waist, walked me to the head of the bed, kicked her high heels off, then lay back on the pillows, spreading her gorgeous legs wide.

I bent to unbuckle the straps on my platform shoes, then climbed up on the bed, placing my knees down between her widespread ankles and lowering my face towards her pussy, its pink piss flaps peeping out between a trimmed thatch of jet-black pubic hair.

The first thing that struck me was the wonderfully erotic aroma from her sex, then the glorious taste of sex juices as I at first contented myself with lapping at her lips, tasting the sweet nectar. Then I began to explore.

For my first foray into minge munching - with previous girl friends I had only played finger fucking games - I lapped a while at her sweet sex, while she let out a groan which I earnestly hoped was of pleasure.

Then I grew more adventurous, flicking my tongue from her dark-brown puckered anus up to her cunt, then higher still to her thick and stiff clit.

For a few minutes I worked my way around her stunning sex, tasting, lapping and licking before finding my way back to her clit. Suddenly, Aunty Caroline let go a groan and implored: "Put the flat of your tongue on it, darling, flat tongue me - yes, yes, yeees!"

And with a thrust she pressed he pussy hard against my face, while grabbing my head and pulling me onto her as her orgasm struck.

Slowly, her panting pleasure subsided and I snuggled up against her lovely body, feeling behind her back to unclasp the bra and peel it from her. I bent and sucked on her superb-erect nipples, nuzzling up to the firmness of her mounds.

Aunty stroked my head and whispered: "Thank-you, my darling, that was wonderful. Now, are you going to be naughty again?"

I licked at a nipple, flicking it with my tongue, then I laughed.

"Aunty, I'm a 20-year-old student of human sexuality. Of course I am!"

To be continued...

Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 02



Aunty Caroline and I lay back on her luxurious black satin sheets and cuddled. The lovely former model stroked my hair and smiled, before planting a lingering kiss on my mouth.

"Oh, I do so love the taste of pussy on the mouth of a person who's just given me an orgasm," said my aunt. "Thank-you so much, Sam. Was that your first time my darling?"

I nodded, shyly, although why I don't really know – what was there to be shy about after I'd just muff-dived my divine aunty?

"Yes, with all my other girl friends I've just played finger fuck games," I told her. "But I prefer going down!"

Aunt Caroline laughed. "Exactly – and did I taste nice?"

Once again I nodded. "Simply delicious aunty," I told her, with conviction. "But tell me, how did you get to become a dominatrix?"

Aunty Caroline ran her mouth across my boobs, nibbling at each nipple before replying. "Well, I guess you could say I was a victim of my own success," she answered.

"After my centrespread for Penthouse, I became hugely in demand as a lingerie model. My agent had to fight them off with a stick. It seemed that every firm in Europe that made quarter-cup bras or crotchless panties wanted me in their catalogues."

I raised myself on one elbow and stroked one of her lovely large breasts. "What's the problem with that?" I asked.

"Well," smiled Aunty Caroline, "after a while I was appearing in every catalogue that was going – a case of being over exposed, if you'll pardon the pun!

"It was then that the work started to dry up – I must have been almost 30, I suppose, and the lingerie catalogues started to look for new faces. So it was time to move on."

I kissed her lovely erect nipple. "So it was domination, then aunty?"

Caroline lay back and stroked my pussy with a cool, long-nailed finger. "My agent received an offer for me just after the Penthouse appearance, but hadn't shown it to me. Then, when the lingerie work started to dry up, she showed me the letter.

"It was from a lady who ran what they used to call 'a house of perversion' and she said I could make thousands if I put myself out as a dominatrix.

"Soon I was getting hundreds of clients and I was rolling in the money – it bought this house, a nice new Mercedes each year, and after a while I found I could pick and choose. So the first thing I did was specialise – in female clients."

I pricked my ears up. "Being a student of sexuality, I wasn't aware there was much in the way of female business," I said.

Caroline smiled at my naivety. "Believe me it's so much more satisfying than men," she said. "Men always have dirty, dripping erections. Their 'pre-come' as they call it – which they spell 'cum' for some strange reason – gets onto your stockings, or boots. They're always wanting to lick pussy, but basically most of them want to fuck. Yukk – no thanks."

"So you make money by only having women clients, aunty?" I asked.

She continued my education. "Most of my money is made from the internet now, darling," she said. "I've got this website with, even if I say so myself, some stunning pictures. It makes me thousands!"

I laughed. "Can I see it?"

Caroline nodded: "Course, darling. I call myself Caroline, the Brighton Bitch, and it's a hugely popular site. And it's so successful that I can now afford to take only hand-picked clients, which means they pay premium rates. I've got a superb dungeon down in the basement, I'll give you a conducted tour – if you've been naughty!"

Again I laughed. "Aunty, I've been very, very naughty."

Caroline climbed from the bed and ordered: "Put those ridiculously high platform shoes while I get into something more appropriate for a dungeon visit."

As I did, aunty stepped into her walk-in wardrobe and emerged wearing a pair of stunning fuck-me boots. Made from obviously hugely expensive leather, they were black and gleamed dully on her lovely legs. They came half-way up her thighs.

Aunty Caroline then threw me a black leather bra and told me to put it on her. She turned so her back was to me, and I fitted the garment around her lower boobs – it had to be lower boobs because it was a quarter-cup creation.

When she had adjusted it, Aunty Caroline turned to face me. She was a picture of punishment! The boots gleamed, coming not too far below her pussy lips, her breasts thrust up into succulent uplift, the nipples erect and kissable.

She grinned as I drank in her beauty. "Let's go!" and she took me by the hand and led me downstairs, then to a door at the back of the house.

A narrow iron spiral staircase led down to a timber-lined corridor which went the length of the house. Half-way down was a door. Aunty opened it and stepped back to allow me to enter.

The room took my breath away. The walls were lined with lush red velvet drapes. The floor was lushly carpeted. Dotted around were what I took to be pieces of torture furniture – a flogging bench, a pillory, a bondage bench.

A large leather couch was on one wall, comfortable leather easy chairs stood in two corners. There were racks of equipment, holding floggers, whips, canes, nipples clamps, other clamps for what I guessed were another sexual target.

But my attention was caught by two posts in the middle of the room, set about five or six feet apart. About the size of goal posts, they went from floor to ceiling. At the bottom of each post were straps attached to some sort of pulley arrangements. Similar straps were set about six feet above the lower ones.

After I had walked around, wide-eyed, on a tour of inspection, Aunty Caroline stood beside me and ran a hand over my naked buttocks. "Time for a warm-up, I think, my darling," she whispered, kissing me gently on one cheek.

She then took me to the posts, made me stand between them, then knelt to fasten the straps around my ankles. When she had completed this task, Aunt Caroline pulled on the pulleys, a act which served to place tension in the straps and drag my legs and thighs wide in a completely open stance.

Next, Aunty Caroline fitted my wrists into the upper straps and then the pulleys were brought into play to stretch my arms out tautly. I was now completely at her mercy!

Aunty stepped back to admire her bondage work. "You look absolutely wonderful, Sam," she informed me. "Now we can have some fun – and trust me, you'll enjoy it!"

I looked at her stunning figure and sexy outfit. "I know, aunty," I almost whispered, feeling helpless yet calm, "I do trust you."

Caroline looked serious. "Good, my dear, because that's the most important thing about femdom – trust. It's what the whole scene is based on. Now, enough chat, let me find one of my favourite paddles for that naughty bottom of yours!"

As I semi-stood, semi-hung in between the poles, aunty walked behind my position, then I heard her return. Suddenly I felt a "Thwaaaack" as a paddle smacked onto my helpless posterior.

The blow had been placed flush across both buttock cheeks. Then aunty set to work, sometimes flogging just one cheek, sometimes both, as she worked slowly, but steadily, in heating up my backside once more.

After, I don't know how many strokes – 15, 20 25? – I heard the paddle drop to the floor, then felt aunty's lovely bare bum rub itself across my burning backside.

Then I felt a tongue working across my arse, licking and laving its way over my cheeks, then up and down.

But aunty saved the best part of my second punishment session for last! From the corner of my vision, I saw her pick up a small stool and bring it in front of my bondage position. She placed it on the carpet in front of me and sat down.

I hardly dared breath as I felt her finger invade my prised open pussy. I writhed slowly on her hand as she tested my readiness, then pulled her hand back and licked sensually on her fingers, drinking down my juice.

"I think you're ready, you naughty, naughty little girl," said Aunty Caroline, and then I felt the ineffable excitement of a mature woman's mouth on my minge for the very first time in my life!

I let out a small cry as her mouth, lips and tongue worked on my pussy. Excitement coursed through me and for one awful moment I thought I was going to wet myself – urine, not sex juice.

Had I known then what I know now, it would, of course, not have been a mistake, but in those early days of love with aunty I didn't know that she was a piss freak. Somehow, I fought back to pressure to release a golden stream, and then settled down to enjoy the delights being inflicted on my pussy.

Aunty had moved her hands to my burning buttocks, clasping the cheeks, pulling them apart, before placing a forefinger against my anus, then driving it firmly but gently into my rear orifice.

"Relax, darling," I heard her call, as she pulled away from my steaming snatch for a moment, "just a little finger, relax!"

I did and aunty drove her digit up to the knuckle, producing a wonderful feeling in my groin, then her lips and tongue went back to work, sucking, nibbling and licking at my sex.

Quite how long all this took, I can't say, all I know is that I totally abandoned myself to the pleasure I was receiving from my aunty-dominatrix!

Eventually, of course, aunty's lapping and laving at my quim was simply too much and as she switched her attentions from my cunt and piss flaps to my throbbing clit I gave up any thought of holding out and bellowed my relief as the relief of orgasm smashed through me.

I swung in my bonds, sobbing and heaving from the sheer delight of such magnificent oral domination, when aunty rose from the stool, running her tongue over my mons, up by belly, then tracing it across my heaving breasts to suck on my erect nipples.

A kiss on the mouth brought home how wet my pussy must have been on her face! The aroma of my snatch was still fresh as our lips locked in a sweet conclusion to the session.

Released from my bondage, aunty and I then went into a sort of conservatory, looking out from her hilltop home high over the town of Brighton. Against the large bay window, was a spa pool.

"Hop into the pool, Sam," she ordered, "while I fetch us a bottle of bubbly."
 I hesitated, looking at the vast expanse of glass and then down at my nudity. Caroline laughed: "Don't worry, pet, it's like a two-way mirror. We can see out, but no one out there can see in!"

I slipped off my shoes and sank into the wonderful warm jets of the spa pool. Aunty returned naked, bearing a tray with two flutes and a champagne bucket holding a bottle of vintage Krug.

"See, female domination pays!" she laughed, passing me a flute of the glorious bubbly.

After a few sips of champagne, Aunty Caroline snuggled up to me in the spa and stroked my cheek.

"Now, darling Sam," she began, "I've got a proposition to make to you. It's entirely up to you to refuse, but hear me out and if the idea is to your liking, then we'll go ahead."

It appeared that one of Aunty Caroline's small but select band of clients had been pestering her some time for a "double domme" session.

"She's a lovely lady – 45-years-old, big boobs, nice legs, very whippable arse and very generous, as she should be, she's made millions in the porno business," said aunty.

"She runs several femdom magazines and I've appeared in a few spreads for her," she added.

"What would I have to do?" I asked, curious, since today had been my first experience of not only bondage and femdom, but also performing cunnilingus and having it performed on me!

Aunty sipped her Krug. "Just a bit of mild flagellation, let her lick you a bit – she's got a good mouth – and maybe give her a golden shower. Depends what she's in the mood for."

I appeared to ponder – in fact, I'd already made up my mind – but aunty quickly added: "Of course, you'll be paid. I usually charge her 300 pounds for a two-hours visit, but I'll put it up to 400 for the pair of us and we'll split the fee – how's that sound?"

It sounded very good, I thought, being an on-the-bones-of-my-bum university student!

"Count me in, aunty!" I replied keenly.

Aunty Caroline beamed broadly, then reached over the side of the spa for a mobile phone. She punched a button on the machine's memory and then had a conversation.

"Hi, Theresa, it's me Caroline." There was some animated chatter from the other end, then aunty spoke again.

"Remember how you've been going on about being double dommed? Well, I think I may have come up with someone."

More animated conversation from the other end, before aunty resumed: "I've got my young niece, Samantha down here on a break from 'varsity. She's 20, lovely figure, very lickable down there, lovely boobs. I think you'll like her."

The other end was full of questions, which aunty then answered: "She's a brunette, large nipples, shaves her pubic hair back into a sort of crew cut thatch, is very tasty and has a mouth eats like a tiger!"

Theresa then asked about the financial arrangements, obviously. Caroline laughed: "It'll cost you 400 and promise me, it'll be the best 400 you've ever spent!"

The conversation concluded with Aunty Caroline listening to Theresa's latest problems getting her current femdom magazine out, then put the phone down.

"Settled," said Aunty Caroline, "she's coming round tomorrow at 2. Now, I'd better make sure you're ready. It's time for some lessons in domination!"

I couldn't wait for class to start!

To be continued.



Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 03



Back in aunty's bedroom, we lay on her bed and she took out – and I am not joking – a little black book from her bedside table drawer.

"I keep notes on all my clients in this little book, so I can swot up on their preferences, although I know most of the details, but a little refresher course never did anyone any harm," my lovely 38-year-old aunty-cum-dominatrix told me.

"Now let's see," she said, thumbing through the entries. "Ah, yes, Theresa M – my clients expect and receive total anonymity," said Aunty Caroline. "One must be discreet in this profession."

"What's her poison, aunty," I asked, eager to hear what games we would be playing.

Aunty Caroline read from the page on Theresa M: "She's 45, with vital statistics of 40-27-38. Likes: pussy and nipple punishment, golden showers, forced adoration."

I plunged in with a question: "Golden showers I've studied, forced adoration you've shown me today, but pussy and nipple punishment?" 

Aunty Caroline smiled: "Oh yes, they are two favourite delights for most of my clientele. I'll give you a quick demo later." Then she read on: "No no's – some clients absolutely refuse to have anything to do with certain practices.

"Now, Theresa's 'No no's' are dildos and anal intrusion," said aunty. 

Then she slammed the book shut and announced: "Enough research, now I promised you a demonstration of pussy and nipple torture."

I recoiled at the mention of "torture", but aunty smiled indulgently. "Don't worry, I won't be tearing your titties off, darling."

She stepped into her walk-in wardrobe and returned, now wearing high heels and that familiar black quarter-cup bra. In her hand she had a crop, several black silk stockings and some clamps.

"Right, Sam, let's have you kneeling up at the foot of the bed, facing me."

I obliged so that my naked body was facing her. Aunty Caroline then took my right wrist and tied a stocking to it, then did the same with my left. Around my upper shins, just below my knees, she tied two more stockings. She added another stocking to the free ends of the four attacked to my wrists and legs.

"Now to get you stretched, my pet," she said, taking the outer stockings and tying them expertly to the bed posts. This had the effect of tensing my entire body. It did wonders for my breasts, which I felt were thrust up into great uplift! For my pussy, of course, it meant total and unencumbered exposure.

Aunty then cupped one of my breasts in her hand and sucked on my nipple, engorging it, before attaching a metal nipple clamp into place on the erect bud.

She did the same to my other nipple, then placed two lead weights to the D-ring attachments at the bottom of the clamps. I felt the tension in my titties, but was proud to see that my 34-inch breasts were still standing high.

Aunty surveyed my predicament and smiled: "Now I'm going to give you some mild twat torture – and it would pay not to writhe around too much, because those nipple clamps aren't coming off for a while!"

I nodded my understanding, hoping that I would be able to adhere to her instruction. Somehow, I felt it was going to be difficult.

Aunty Caroline then picked up the crop she had emerged from the wardrobe carrying and placed it just below my mouth. "This is a simple little riding crop," she informed me, "but it has one rather rigid flap at the business end. That's for your pussy. Would you like to kiss it?"

With that, my aunt placed the flap against my mouth and I placed a reverent kiss on the coolness of the leather. I found the ritual stimulating and hoped that I wasn't too wet down there, although I could feel my juices starting to stir.

Aunty then stepped back and placed the crop's flap against my pussy, rubbing it delightfully along my sex trench before pulling it away and inspecting it. From where I knelt in bondage, I could see the glistening gleam my juices had deposited on the leather – clear proof of my arousal.

My aunt smiled knowingly and then flicked the crop against my piss flaps. "Ooooouch," I yelled, as the pain stung through me like an electric shock. And, to add to my worries, my upper body threshed around, causing sudden little jolts to run through my titties and breasts.

The next blow I was expecting, and although I didn't cry out, the surge of pain which coursed through my sex caused me to writhe again, sending little volts of excitement through my boobs.

Slowly, with a deliberate cadence, aunty continued to whip my poor defenceless pussy with her riding crop, but after a while I found I could control my upper body, cutting back on my wriggling and writhing until I was receiving the punishment almost stoically.

Finally, Aunty Caroline halted her flagellation of my pussy and placed the flap against my mouth for more kisses. The leather was now infused with the aroma of my snatch, and the inter-mingling perfumes of sex juice and leather was almost dizzying.

Aunty threw the crop on the bed's satin sheets, then went to her dressing table and pulled the wide stool standing in front of it until it was directly opposite my bound body.

Seated on the stool, her face was directly level with my crotch and I tensed, aware of what she was going to do, but unaware of the effect her attentions would have on my flogged flesh.

As if sensing that, aunty looked up at me, her lovely dark hair shining around her beautiful face. "Don't worry, Sam, this is the best part," she whispered. Then she buried her face in my pussy and began to perform her erotic expertise on my tingling twat.

At first the sensation of her tongue on my recently assaulted minge was agony. My mouth tensed but I let out a low "Mmmmmmn" as Aunty Caroline began to massage my pussy, flicking her tongue into my cunt, then along the outer labia lips, before trailing further upwards to my crop-punished clitoris.

Gradually, though, the throbbing pain down there began to recede, to be replaced with a glowing sensation that was causing me to release even more sex juice.

This reaction drew a response from my "agony aunt", who pulled her face away and planted a deep kiss on my mons. "You're so wet down there, you dirty little slut!" she whispered, huskily.

"How can I help it, you wicked woman?" I panted. Then, feeling bolder I implored: "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Aunty heeded my pleas and buried her face back into my streaming snatch, licking and kissing her way from anus to clit and back again, each trip over my sex lips eliciting little groans and moans as I let my lust take over.

Finally, her ministrations were too much and I started to thrash about in my bonds as the inevitable orgasm began to flood through me in an unstoppable surge. I shouted and yelled all the usual things that we women cry out in the throes of ecstasy, then I slumped as the climax peaked, then began to ebb.

Aunty then went to the bedside table, where I had left my half-full glass of Krug and brought it over, allowing me to drain the lovely amber fluid. Then she gently unclipped the clamps from my nipples and stood slightly off to one side.

"Ready?" aunty inquired. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I nodded.

She then placed her right hand against my sex trench and began to stroke my fevered flesh, flicking through my cleft before tweaking on my clit. Then she lowered her mouth and sucked on my right nipple.

I arched backwards, striving to escape her oral attentions, as a searing shock ran through my breast. Then she leaned over and sucked on the left nipple. Again an electric jolt ran from my nipple through my heaving boob.

As she flicked her fingers along my sex trench, sometimes pushing a forefinger up my cunt, sometimes pinching on my clit, aunty's mouth flickered from nipple to nipple, sending shock waves through my recently clamped tits.

But gradually, as it had with my pussy, the pain in my boobs faded into a glorious glow of arousal. Aunty sucked increasingly strongly on my tits, and then – as if my breasts were a conduit to my clit – I began to heave and surge to orgasm once more, as her mouth and fingers did their wonderful work.

Cuddling together back on the bed, aunty stroked my hair and allowed me to suck on her stunning 36-inch tits, still pressed up in the lovely leather quarter-cup bra, when she suddenly sat up.

"Right, Sam," she smiled, "that's pussy and tit torture out of the way – and I know you absolutely adored it! You're becoming well aware of body adoration, so that leaves golden showers."

I sat up. "Er, I don't know, aunty," I mumbled. "That's something I'm really sure about."

Aunty Caroline looked reassuring. "Don't worry, darling," she calmed me, "just a little introduction – nothing too heavy!"

I nodded. "OK then, aunty, I trust you."

The stunningly-built ex-Penthouse Pet and retired lingerie model, then got up, removed her bra and held out her hand to me. "The shower's the best place for this, then we can clean up the mess and get ourselves cleaned up at the same time," she told me.

In the en suite bathroom, Aunty Caroline then ran the shower till hot water steamed all over the room. Switching it off, she turned on the extractor fan and announced: "Now it's nice and warm in there – let's go!"

I stepped into the shower cubicle, butterflies in my stomach and felt aunty's hand stroking my buttocks.

"Do you want to piss first, or shall I?" she asked, as we stepped against each other, our breasts rubbing together, her mons pressing against mine.

"I'm bursting to pee, aunty," I said, "that champagne has gone straight to my head."

Aunty laughed: "You mean straight to your bladder, Sam!"

Then, to my surprise, she went down on her knees so her face was directly opposite my pussy. Looking back on it, quite what position I had expected her to adopt, I don't know, but her words then gave me no doubt as to her expectations.

"Piss on my face, darling, let it go!" she breathed, her voice betraying her excitement.

I placed my feet on either side of her haunches and prepared to let go. As keen as I was to piss, excitement got the better of me for a moment, preventing me from releasing the flood I knew was building.

Then aunty's tongue flickered along my sex trench and all inhibitions were lost as I let loose a flood of yellow urine, which splattered and splashed all over her face.

The warm piss cascaded down her upper body and Aunty Caroline placed her hands beneath her nipple-hard breasts to cup pools of piss in her palms.

She then proceeded to rub the sticky wetness all over her lovely globes as my stream dwindled to a tiny trickle, then faded away entirely.

At the conclusion, Aunty Caroline placed her mouth on my minge and her tongue laved along my labia lips, sucking the slick slit between them. The effect was once more to drive me to a frenzy of lust and without shame I grabbed her lustrous hair and pressed her into my sex as I shouted my way to climax yet again.

When my sobs had calmed, Aunty Caroline stood and placed a slow, lingering kiss on my mouth, her lips tasting warm and salty from my piss. I was surprised at how incredibly sexy such a kiss was and I responded eagerly, licking and kissing her piss-stained face.

"Now it's my turn, darling," she whispered, and a firm hand pressed me down to the floor of the cubicle. On my way there I'm not ashamed to say that I traced my tongue over her gleaming urine-drenched breasts, savouring the salty tang on her wonderful flesh.

When I was kneeling on the warm, piss covered floor of the shower, aunty placed her feet wide. Her pose brought her dark-haired, trimmed pussy close to my mouth, her prominent, pink lips plainly in view.

A husky voice above me called out: "Ready, pet?"

I placed a slow, deferential kiss on aunty's pussy – stained, I could tell as I tasted her, by the contents of my bladder that I had emptied over her only minutes before.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', my darling," said aunty, as I bestowed my kiss on her tasty twat.

Then a stream of yellow piss erupted, striking me with a warm jet. I spluttered beneath its assault, then Aunty Caroline squatted a little and made a target of my breasts.

Taking a lead from aunty's performance, I cupped my hands beneath my breasts as the warm urine sprayed onto me, and rubbed it in circles over my nipple-taut globes.

Finally, aunty's jetstream dwindled to a few drops and I pressed my mouth against her sex, sucking on her labia, licking at her urethra, amazing myself at the wonderfully sexy taste of her amber nectar.

Then, aunty took charge of my next moves and began to graunch and grind on my mouth, thrusting back and forth as my tongue traversed the slippery crevices of her pussy before exploding in an ecstasy of climactic excitement.

As her quivering and heaving subsided, I climbed back to my feet and we pressed our mouths against each other, tasting salty tangyness, rubbing our piss-covered breasts together.

Aunty disengaged her mouth from mine and turned the shower on, to allow hot water to cascade all over our bodies.

"Now for another kind of shower, my darling niece," Aunty Caroline whispered in my ear.

"Yes," I responded, "but nowhere near as tasty!"

To be continued.



Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 04



On the morning that Theresa was due to visit my Aunty Caroline's for a session of female domination, aunty told me: "We need to get you kitted out. Let's see what we can come up with from my collection."

And we stepped, both of us naked, into her walk-in wardrobe, which had been the catalyst for my introduction into sex with an older woman and her skills at femdom.

"Theresa is a fussy submissive," my 38-year-old aunt informed me. "She insists on me wearing really erotic outfits, and since she's calling the shots - well, for the couple of hours she's here, anyway - I go along with that.

"And of course, femdom in really nice outfits is all part of the fun. Now, what can we organise for you?"

Aunty riffled among her wide collection of gear, then pulled out a bra which she held out for me to try on. It was a black, open-fronted PVC job, which pushed my 34-inch breasts into what I thought was superb uplift.

"Good," said Aunty Caroline, "Theresa is into body worship and your breasts must always be available. That looks good. Comfy?"

I nodded, looking admiringly into the mirror set on one door of the walk-in wardrobe. "Even I fancy myself," I told Caroline.

Next Aunty Caroline tossed me a black leather garter belt. "Let's see how this looks."

I tried it on. It was quite a broad belt and gleamed across my hips. I thought it looked sexy. "Stockings from this package," said aunty, handing me some shiny, black seamed stockings.

I smoothed them over my legs and turned to look at my rear in the mirror. They looked sensational!

"Panties?" I asked Aunty Caroline.

"No," she said, with a firm shake of her head. "During a femdom session your breasts may be available for body worship, but your pussy must always be open for business."

"Speaking of pussy, aunty," I said, "I'm really starting to get eager for a piss, I only had my early morning piddle when I got up and you've been pouring the coffee into me."

"Sorry, darling," said Aunty Caroline, "but Theresa is a big fan of piss punishment and I want you to be able to give her a really good drenching. Please try to hold on."

I nodded. "OK, aunty, but it's going to be difficult."

"I know, pet," smiled my aunty, "and I'll try to get around to the water sports part of it quickly, but the longer you hold out, the more effective it will be for Theresa. Promise me, she'll thank you for it."

I then selected a ridiculously high pair of black patent leather platform shoes, and presented myself to aunty for inspection.

"Perfect," she smiled, "if I wasn't into domination I'd go down on my knees before you myself, you lovely young minx. Now, a couple of tips. Unlike many submissives, Theresa is not into verbal abuse. Calling her a slut, or a bitch, or a fucking pervert, is not going to get her bells rung.

"She calls me Caroline, I call her darling, or Theresa. But that's not to mean there's not a lot of verbal teasing going on, do you understand?"

I nodded, not really sure that I did, but hoping I'd pick it up as we went along.

"Right," said Aunty Caroline, "she's due in about half an hour. When she arrives, you pop down into the chamber and when I bring her in, I want you standing in the middle of the room, between those posts, hands on hips in a really aggressive-looking manner.

"I will bring her up to you and introduce you. Her first contact with you will be a short performance of cunnilingus."

I nodded, excited at the thought that the very first bodily contact I would have with a woman who would be a total stranger to me was going to be her mouth on my minge!

"And after that, the performance will unfold according to my directions. Just follow my lead and remember that Theresa is a devout submissive, she's really into it," said Aunty Caroline.

"Now, lay down on your bed, take some deep breaths and try to control that bladder of yours!"

I did as instructed and at about 10 to 2, Aunty Caroline entered my bedroom and told me to get down into the chamber. "She's due any minute," she said.

Heart thumping from excitement, bladder thumping through the pressure of needing to pee - not excruciating, but quite painful - I made my way down to the torture chamber, and according to aunty's instructions stood centre-room and waited hands on hips, trying to look as stern and strict as possible.

Then the door swung open, and there was Aunty Caroline, in a black quarter-cup bra similar to mine, those lovely long black leather boots and a shiny black leather belt which circled her hips.

On one hip a holster held a short, single-thonged whip, which dangled half-way down her thigh. She looked superb!

On all fours beside her was a mature, large, naked woman with close-cropped dark brown hair framing her attractive, round featured face. Her large breasts - 40-inchers, I remembered from aunty's little black book notes - hung pendulously. Around her neck was a collar attached to a leather leash which aunty held in her right hand.

"There she is, Theresa," said Aunty Caroline, in almost a little girl voice. "Shall we go say hello?" Theresa nodded her head, making her big breasts wobble beneath her.

"Come on then," said aunty, and she stepped alongside Theresa, keeping pace with her as she crawled across the floor to halt just in front of me, her face about six inches from the moistness of my minge. All thoughts of desperately needing to piss were now banished from my mind.

"This is my lovely young niece, Sam," said aunty, in a light tone. "Hasn't she got a pretty pussy?" Theresa nodded again as she stared up at my shaved snatch.

"Would you like to say hello nicely?" asked aunty. Another nod.

"OK, but not too long, Theresa, we've got to get started on your punishments, haven't we, darling?"

But Theresa was hungry for my pussy and already her mouth was working on my wetness, her tongue flicking into my dripping cunt, her lips caressing my piss flaps with their kisses, her mouth nibbling at my aroused clitoris. I moved slightly against her mouth, thrilling in the devotion of a 45-year-old submissive as she worshipped my snatch.

But then aunty, dragging on the leash, pulled her slave away from my pussy. "Time for a lot less pleasure and a lot more punishment, my dear little Theresa," Aunty Caroline purred, as she dragged the mature nude away to a place between the floor-to-ceiling posts.

"Help me get her ready, Sam," aunty ordered, and I placed the large woman's wrists in the straps, while aunty worked to pinion her ankles. Aunty then adjusted each strap using the pulleys until the big-busted beauty was tautly stretched in her place of bondage.

"Nipple clamps with those lead weights I've attached to them on her nips, please, Sam," said aunty and I picked up the heavy weights from the equipment bench, sucked on our slave's nipples to erect them, and fitted the clamps on. Her large nipples were dragged down by the weights.

When I'd done this, I noticed that aunty had pulled a sort of see-saw device from the side of the torture chamber and placed it so the upper half was in the space between Theresa's widespread thighs.

The leather-padded device had several straps on it, but these were not brought into play when Aunty Caroline ordered me to lay back on the see-saw, my head resting on the padded pillow at the end below the front of Theresa's body.

Aunty then picked up a lead weight, such as body builders use on benches to add tension to their work-out machines and placed it on the end of the see-saw, between my feet. This served to raise the end of the see-saw so my face was now close to Theresa's thick-lipped pussy, her dark-brown hair trimmed back to totally reveal her most intimate parts. The pussy was, I noted, very wet.

Aunty Caroline then pushed the see-saw so I was further from Theresa's pussy and Caroline stepped to one side of her victim and traced a large-flapped flogger against her sex.

"Time to warm up that pussy, don't you think, my dear?" asked aunty, in a tone of voice one would use to ask if someone wanted a nice cup of tea!

"Yes, darling," said Theresa, speaking for the first time in my presence, in an educated, refined voice.

From my pillowed position, I watched with delight as Aunty Caroline flicked the flogger against Theresa's lush pussy, drawing a tiny sob from her victim. Aunty then paused for a moment, then flicked the flogger's flap five times in rapid, rat-a-tat repetition against the woman's sex. There followed another lengthy pause, then five more rapid blows, another lengthy pause.

Finally, Theresa sobbed: "Mercy, darling, mercy, I'm on fire!"

Aunty, to my surprise, stopped and her next instruction was to me. "Time to lick the wounds, Sam. Give her a nice tongue bath!" I was told. Aunty then pushed the head of the see-saw on which I was lying to Theresa's flogged pussy.

I tasted a moist, tangy pussy, the piss flaps fleshy and full, the cunt dripping, the clit bruised but erect. As soon as I started I sensed Theresa flinch, but as I worked on her sex she relaxed and began to moan gently as she ground herself on my face.

Then, not more than a minute or two after I had begun my task, Theresa started to sob "Yes, oh yes, that's lovely Sam, please don't stop, oh yes!"

Perhaps it was her plea of "please don't stop" that caused it, but the begging had only just stopped when aunty pulled my see-saw back from the sobbing woman's snatch, provoking an instant reaction from the recipient of my oral adoration.

"Oh, no, please, Caroline, I was so close to coming, please let me come!" Theresa cried, but aunty merely laughed.

"Time for a little warm up, my pet," she informed the bound woman, and the flogging flap resumed its wicked little visits to Theresa's pussy. This time, the 45-year-old threshed wildly, in totally useless attempts to evade the flap's scourging. Some 10 or 15 strokes must have been inflicted by my aunt before she dropped the implement of punishment and once more pushed my see-saw back so my mouth could continue its cunnilingual task.

Once more my initial tongue work was greeted by the woman with little cries and shrieks as I laved at her punished pussy, but soon her lust took over and again, after some two minutes' work on my part, Theresa was pleading for her climax.

"Oh god, that's so good, you're so good Sam, I love you, I love it, lick me, lick me!" I continued my work at her drenched sex, but suddenly, as Theresa started to let out a high-pitched keening sound, Caroline once more pulled my pussy-drenched mouth from the slave's snatch.

This almost reduced the busty woman to tears. "You can't do this to me, Caroline," she begged, "it's not fair, it's not fair, it's so fucking unfair."

The "fucking" word came as a surprise to me from such a cultured voice, but the pleas fell on deaf ears.

Caroline laughed: "I can do this to you, Theresa and I will. And as for not being fair, I would remind you, my darling, that all's fair in love and femdom. However, to let you take your mind off your pathetic pleas for an orgasm, I'm going to let you do some calisthenics - that'll be fun, won't it?"

Theresa hung limply in her bonds, sucking back a sob. "Yes, darling," she answered obediently in a softer, calmer voice.

Aunty then pushed the see-saw, with me still lying on it, between Theresa's widespread thighs, until it was clear from her. I climbed off and we removed the busty slave from her position and aunty marched her onto a rubber training mat. "Fetch me that buggy whip, Sam," she told me.

I'd never seen a buggy whip before - I'm not into all that horse and pony equestrian scene - but I knew this was a really cruel implement even as I handed it to my aunt.

The whip had a smooth leather grip, like a golf club, and a thick leather shaft which extended to an increasingly narrow tip. The entire thing must have been at least five feet long!

Aunty stood off well to one side of the naked woman, the lead weights still hanging from the nipple clamps on her busty globes. Then, raising her arm she lashed the whip across Theresa's largish but well-rounded bum. This was the signal for her to begin what must have been a painful exercise in calisthenics.

On receipt of the crack from the buggy whip, Theresa proceeded to raise both her arms high above her and clap her palms together. As she performed this procedure, she jumped and stretched her feet out wide. Then she dropped her hands to her sides and brought her feet together again. One more stroke from the buggy whip and her arms came up and she spread her legs, and so on.

Each jump, of course, caused her lush breasts to bounce, which must have caused her considerable anguish in the mammary department, as the clamps on her nipples showed no sign of being dislodged.

After a couple of minutes of painful, perspiration-inducing exercise, aunty called a halt to the torment. Theresa stood to attention, breasts heaving, sobs wracking her large frame.

Aunty stepped in front of her and unclipped the clamps, kissed her on the mouth and whispered: "Now I've got a very special present for you, darling. Put this buggy whip away and put on your favourite bathing cap."

Theresa did as she was told. The bathing cap, of bright red rubber material, completely covered her shortish brunette hair and buckled tightly beneath her chin, making her look like a model from a rubber fetish magazine.

"Lovely," smiled aunty, "I love the way you look in that cap!"

"Now Sam, it's your turn for some bondage. Let's get you in place, shall we?"

I walked between the posts, then aunty pinioned my wrists and ankles, pulled on the pulleys to tauten my body, then whispered in my ear: "It's soon going to be pee time, darling!"

From behind me I heard aunty putting Theresa on the see-saw, only unlike me, as I heard velcro straps being adjusted, she was to be placed in bondage on it.

Then I saw Theresa's rubber-capped head emerge from between my thighs as aunty pushed the slave beneath me. The see-saw was then adjusted so that Theresa's mouth was inches from my snatch. Aunty next collected a black rubber sheet and laid it underneath the top of the see-saw.

"Now my darling," aunty addressed Theresa, "I've got a lot of news for you - and I'm afraid it's all pretty bad. There's so much to tell, where shall I start?

"I know - at the beginning! This morning when my lovely young niece got up she had an early morning pee. And she's not had one since!"

Theresa looked up at me, her eyes wide, playing her role of appalled slave to perfection.

"What's the next piece of bad news?" asked Aunty Caroline, as if speaking to herself. "Well, I'm going to tickle Sam, and Sam is very, very ticklish, aren't you darling?"

"I'm terribly ticklish, aunty," I answered, obediently, not really sure whether I was or not. I hadn't played tickling games with any of my girl friends, so it was new territory for me.

"And do you know what happens when she's tickled?" aunty asked teasingly.

"No," said Theresa, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"Oh, go on - have a guess," prompted aunty.

"I suppose she loses control of her bladder," said Theresa, quietly.

"Precisely!" laughed aunty, clapping her hands in delight.

"And do you know what you're going to do?" aunty asked next.

"I'm going to get a golden shower?" Theresa asked, in return.

"No, silly," aunty chided her, "not a golden shower, a golden cocktail - you're going to drink it!"

To be continued...



Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 05



"No, no, mercy, please, pretty please, don't let her do this to me," Theresa begged, as Aunty Caroline walked behind my pinioned body.

"Now, now, Theresa," said my aunt, "don't be so silly. Sam here has been at great pains to save her pee pee for you. It would be extremely churlish on your part to refuse to drink it down, wouldn't it, Sam?"

"Yes, it would, aunty," I replied, through gritted teeth when what I really wanted to do was bellow "For fuck's sake let me piddle!"

"So you, see, Theresa, Sam wants you to drink her glorious golden nectar. Now say 'sorry' and we can get on with it," said my teasing aunt.

"Sorry, Sam," said Theresa, in a tiny little voice, from her position just below my minge.

"Didn't hear you, Theresa," snapped Aunty Caroline. "Speak up and beg her for permission to drink her lovely champagne down."

A stifled sob came from the woman below me, then she spoke, far more clearly: "Please, Sam, please let me drink your golden piss, please piss down me, please, I want it!"

"There," said aunty, "that's much better. Now we can get started. Really, Theresa, such a lot of fuss!"

The next thing that happened was Aunty Caroline's lovely long fingernails making contact with my skin, tautened by my position in the flogging frame. They traced from my armpits down my rib cage, sending tingling little thrills through me. It was now, for the first time, that I realised I was extremely ticklish! Aunty's devious tracery continued over my belly, up to my breasts, then into my armpits again. Soon I was writhing and wriggling from her caresses and then, suddenly I felt a great relief in my bladder and I began to piss!

At first it was just a dribble, as if my system had shut down from the hours of denial and was reluctant to let go, but then with a relief that was massive, my release gushed into one long, steady stream.

Theresa beneath me was gulping and gasping and chugging me down for all she was worth until, after some 30 seconds of my flow, it became too much for her and she had to shut her mouth.

Streams of golden fluid flowed down both sides of her mouth onto her chin, down to her breasts, then further south. Aunty Caroline, kneeling beside her, watching intently, snapped: "That spillage will cost you, my darling little piss drinker!"

And Theresa's mouth opened again to receive the last 10 or so seconds of my bladder evacuation. At last I had finished, and I hung, limp and exhausted but infinitely more comfortable.

"Now thank her," snapped Aunty Caroline, and Theresa's response was not spoken.

Her tongue flickered out and traced its way across my piss flaps, down to my cunt, then up to my clitoris. Soon I was wriggling on her face, and then my relief became even more luxurious as my orgasm flooded through my groin and I exploded with delight on the 45-year-old woman's working mouth.

Aunty Caroline then freed Theresa and the two women both unstrapped me from the frame.

"Now, Theresa," said my aunt, "I'm not one who believes in dragging out a slave's suffering. I promised you a punishment for that disgusting spillage just now and Sam will inflict it right now."

Aunty Caroline then took a red rubber bit and bridle from her equipment table and placed the rubber in Theresa's mouth. She then made the woman go down on all fours.

Then she addressed me: "Time for a little ride, darling Sam. Use the crop on her arse and get her to complete a few circuits around the room, then steer her up to my pussy - I've got a little gift for her, as well."

Aunty walked over to a comfortable easy chair, slung both her boot-covered legs over its arms and began to stroke herself, as I climbed aboard the broad back of the naked slave.

I grabbed both ends of the reins together in my right hand, and wielding the riding crop in my left whacked her across her buttocks and spat out about the only equestrian phrase I knew apart from "giddy-up".

"Walk on," I said as the crop made contact with her arse, and the 45-year-old began to make her way in a large circle around the torture chamber, me with my high heels just up from the carpet so she had to work under the full burden of my weight. As we wound our way around, Aunty Caroline was working slowly on her minge, several fingers sometimes disappearing up her lovely gash.

After three circuits, Aunty Caroline called out in a husky voice: "I'm ready for her now, Sam, next time bring her up to my pussy, please."

I flogged the slave several times just for the hell of it during the final lap, then brought the panting woman up to aunty's chair. The aroma of aroused sex flesh was apparent even from where I sat on the slave's back!

I pulled the bit from Theresa's mouth and went to dismount but was dissuaded by my aunt.

"Stay there, Sam," she ordered, "and you can take for another few laps after she's had her refreshment."

I remained seated on the panting woman's back, then watched as aunty slid her buttocks down the seat until her snatch was inches from Theresa's mouth.

"Horsey worsey want drinkies?" Aunty Caroline said, in a girlish, sing-songy voice, which forced me to choke back a peal of laughter.

"Yes, please, Caroline," said Theresa, all pretence of disliking the habit now vanished.

"Open up, then, darling," said aunty, and I watched with fascination as a thick stream of golden amber fluid jetted from aunty's piss slit into Theresa's wide open mouth. It was strong, but nowhere near as long as mine and after some 20 seconds, Theresa was forced to placed her mouth against aunty's minge to lap up the remaining dribbles of piss.

"Lovely," said Aunt Caroline, after her piss, "now you may thank me, darling."

And once more the 45-year-old was forced to perform at a moist, demanding pussy until aunty's cries of ecstasy indicated her climax.

The I resumed riding the lush-breasted, naked slave around the torture chamber, before being ordered to dismount by my aunt, who then placed Theresa, now minus the bathing cap, back into the flogging frame.

"See if she's ready to come, darling," said aunty, shoving a stool in front of Theresa's pussy.

I sat on it and tasted the mature sex slave's wet quim, running my tongue from anus to clit, with several stops in between, and enjoying the lovely taste of sex mingle with the aroma of my piss, from Theresa's spillage.

The 45-year-old soon writhing and bouncing on my mouth, but when it seemed she was about to relish a climax at last, Aunty Caroline indicated to me to stand up.

"Of fucking hell, fucking, fucking hell, you can't do this again, please, Caro, please, this is unbearable," she pleaded.

Aunty then handed me a long flogger with a large, square flap on its end and told me: "You work on her shoulder blades and buttocks. I'm going to finish her off, it's time she had her orgasm!"

I stepped behind the lovely back and buttocks of the magazine publisher and started to work over her shoulder blade region, then her buttocks. The flogger made a delightful "Thwock" noise each time it came into contact with her fevered flesh.

After several strokes had been inflicted by me, Aunty Caroline pulled up a little leather stool and sat in front of Theresa's writhing body.

A low "Mmnnnnh" sound escaped our slave's lips as aunty's mouth pressed up against Theresa's pussy, then Caroline's hands cupped the woman's buttocks, leaving me to concentrate on the shoulder blades for her flogging.

Soon, Theresa was bucking and writhing in her bonds and then, this cultured-sounding woman threshed her way to orgasm with a burst of "Fuckingshit, fuckingshit, fuckingshit" cries, which sounded oddly at variance with her beautifully-modulated speech.

At last she stopped writhing, aunty stood up and I stopped my whip work.

Aunty Caroline planted a long, sweet kiss on Theresa's mouth and smiled at her: "There, darling, and as femdom sessions go, how was that?"

Theresa grinned: "It was absolutely delicious."

Aunty joked: Golden delicious, Theresa?"

We all roared with laughter, and then aunty released Theresa from her bonds. "Theresa and I are going up to the spa pool, darling," Caroline told me. "Be a love and bring a bottle of Krug and three glasses and we'll all have a nice relaxing spa."

Upstairs, I swiftly undressed, then ran down to the fridge and found a tray for the bubbly bottle and three flutes.

Beside the spa, I poured three glasses and stepped into the pool, opposite aunty and Theresa, who were side by side and cuddling, enjoying the occasional smooch.

After a clinking of glasses, Theresa gave be a big, beaming smile and asked: "Well, my dear Sam, and how did you enjoy that little session?"

I sipped on the creamy Krug and admitted: "Very much indeed, I hope I did OK for a beginner?"

Theresa nodded: "Oh yes, you're a natural, you little minx."

"Tell me, though," I asked, "one thing has been puzzling me."

Theresa arched her eyebrows in question. "Shoot, my dear."

"Well," I said. "aunty told me that you were a devotee for piss punishments, by which I took to mean golden showers or golden cocktails."

Theresa nodded: "Very much so, sometimes both, I must confess."

"Well, " I pressed on, "what if you really hadn't wanted to drink me, but only wanted a golden shower? How did aunty know to make you drink my piss?"

Theresa looked at my aunt and said: "Want to explain, Caro?"

My aunty sipped on her flute, then smiled: "Simple, really, Sam. You see Theresa and I had agreed beforehand that if she only wanted a shower, she would not give me any signal. Then, when it came to time for you to piss it would be a shower.

"But if she liked the look of you and was in the mood for a golden cocktail, then at some stage she would give me a wink. As I was preparing her in the flogging frame, she gave me a wink - simple, wink equals drink!"

I nodded, it was simple! "And did I taste good?"

"You were delicious," smiled the 45-year-old. "Not as delicious as this Krug, maybe, but very tasty."

"And would I make a good domme?" I asked the pair.

"Yes, I think so," said Theresa. "In fact, would you like to pose for one of my magazines? I've got one which specialises in teenage and younger dominas - it's called Trainee Tormentors.

"I've got a young lady photographer who I know would simply adore doing a photo shoot with you. We can do it here in Caro's dungeon."

Caroline agreed: "Melissa would do wonders with her, make her a domme to drool over."

I thought a bit. "I dunno, aunty, what with my studies, I wouldn't want to be identified."

Theresa said: "We'll provide a fictional persona for you. We'll call you something like 'Annie Agony, 20-year-old trainee domme for the Bitch of Brighton. What do you say? My rates are good - a couple of thousand for a couple of hours work."

When I heard the words "a couple of thousand" all my doubts flew out the window. "Done," I said, "but let me come up with own fictional description, I don't like Annie Agony."

Both women nodded. "I'll ring Melissa this evening and we'll set up a shoot," said Theresa. "Now, let's get pissed."

That evening, laying back in bed with Aunty Caroline, I asked: "Did Theresa really enjoy that session this afternoon?"

"Very much so," said aunty, as she shifted her body and pushed my head down to her breasts, then her belly. I didn't need another push, I had got the picture!

My mouth pressed against the slippery satin touch of her lovely pussy, its dark-haired thatch trimmed back in a severe crew cut. I licked a while, then propped myself and looked up at aunty's lovely face.

"How can you be so sure?" I asked.

"Because she left us a 100 pounds bonus," said Aunty Caroline, "now shut up you little devil and eat me!"

I needed no further encouragement. A 100 quid bonus! 

Suddenly, I felt very hungry!

To be continued... 



Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 06



Aunty Caroline took charge of my wardrobe for the domination magazine shoot. She had already let porn magazine publisher Theresa and her photographer into the dungeon downstairs to set up and now up in her bedroom she was arranging my outfit for the photo shoot.

"What we need," said the 38-year-old former Penthouse Pet, "is a non-fussy outfit that states quite clearly 'She may be a trainee dominatrix, but don't dare fuck with this girl'. Now, where do we start?"

Aunty's first move was to draw my hair back into a severe ponytail.

Then aunty threw me a purple satin quarter cup bra. "That should fit, let's see how it works on you," she said, as I adjusted the garment to cup my 34-inch breasts.

I admired myself in the mirror. The bra was tight across my back, but it did wonders for my heavy-set breasts. "I love it," I told Caroline.

"Now for a slightly theatrical touch," said my aunt, picking up some lipstick and smearing it over my areolae, which are quite large. The effect was stunning – garish red around my nipples, which stood thick and brownish pink.

"Here's a matching suspender belt," said aunty, throwing me this time a shiny purple, deep-cut suspender, which must have been three or four inches deep. It gleamed sexily over my hips.

The stockings she gave me to go with the purple belt were black, with seams down the back. For shoes, aunty presented me with a pair of Cuban-heeled shoes in bright Man Utd or Arsenal red.

Aunty Caroline checked me out, then announced: "I'd like to make love to you right now, but we have a photo shoot to attend." And after checking that I had my sheet with the biography I had invented for myself, she led the day downstairs.

In the torture chamber, we found Theresa, naked save for a pair of black stilettos on her feet, and a black leather mask which hid her features. "Hi Caro, hi Sam," she greeted us, happily. "Sorry about the bizarre mask, but I make it a point of never appearing as myself in any of my mags.

"Now, Sam, let me introduce you to the lovely Melissa, who's going to make you our feature 'Dominette of the month' for Trainee Tormentors."

A shortish blonde, with golden hair which tumbled in a casual cut across her shoulders, held out her hand in a wave. "Hi Sam, I'm looking forward to working with you," she smiled.

Melissa was in her 30s I guessed – later I found she was 34 – with large breasts (later I learned they were 38s!) encased in a gleaming black satin bra. Her pussy was covered by a matching black thong, cut high and dragged tautly against her pussy. She had piercing blue eyes, a slight suntan and was barefoot.

"Hello," I smiled back, already feeling comfortable with her.

"Nice outfit," said Melissa, professionally eyeing me, I suspect. "Good hauteur, if that's the right term."

"Don't give up your day job, dear Mel," laughed Theresa. "Right, let's get to work!"

I then handed my bio sheet to Theresa. "This is what I've come up with, Theresa, I trust it's OK," I told her.

This is what I had put, in the style of Trainee Tormentor magazine:

  Dominette's name: Lucy Lash.   Birthday:   April 10, 1985.   Occupation:   Trainee dominatrix.   Location:   Brighton.   Hair:    Brown.   Eyes:    Brown.   Vital statistics:  34-23-34   Height:    5ft 2in   Likes:    Double domming.   Dislikes:   Slaves who waste time.   Favourite food:  Italian.   Fetishes:   Watersports.

The last entry in the Dominette of the Month bio was always a quote from the lady concerned – although I guess a lot of them are written by the magazine's editorial staff.

I'd decided to come up with my own and my quote was "Being a dominette means never having to say you're sorry."

"Great, I'll read it later," said Theresa as I handed her my potted biography.

Melissa now moved towards her spotlights and after arranging them to her satisfaction, she announced: "I'll get the low shot up her quim first, then we'll get some of you being punished, Theresa."

And with that, Melissa picked up an extremely expensive-looking camera and lay on her back on the floor. "Stand above me, darling," she ordered and I placed my feet on either side of her torso.

Melissa looked through her viewfinder, then said: "Not aroused enough, we need more moisture there." And with that she raised herself and licked my pussy with a very gentle and very wet tongue.

"She must like you, Sam," said Theresa, "or she'd have sprayed you instead."

I quivered as Melissa's expert mouth licked for what I knew was longer than necessary, before she lay back and started snapping.

I don't know if you've seen the issue of Trainee Tormentors that I feature in, but this pose resulted in one of my favourite shots – looking up my shiny blacking stockings, to my semi-shaved pussy with my prominent piss flaps, then up further to my upthrust boobs supported by the fantastic quarter-cup bra. In the one they chose for publication, I'm pointing down at the camera with a stern "Don't piss me off slave!" look. I love it.

Next, Melissa got the 45-year-old busty publisher to adopt various poses of submission as I stand around her, wielding a cat o' nine tails, or a cane, paddle or buggy whip.

Aunty Caroline then fixed Theresa up in the flogging frame and I used the cat on her back – very lightly, but not lightly enough to avoid leaving some tell tale whip marks.

In some pictures, Theresa is shown licking my pussy, but my favourite picture of them all is the one on the title page of the feature underneath the headline "We love Lucy – but don't dare fuck with her!"

It shows Theresa in the upper position of the push up punishment, her breasts hanging down, nipples erect, a slight sheen of perspiration on her naked body. I'm standing with a black leather paddle in one hand, and one of my Cuban-heeled shoes is perched daintily on Theresa's buttocks. Fuck, it's such a sexy shot!

"Right," Melissa announced after taking plenty of pictures of me pretend punishing Theresa, "now I'm going to get some solo shots. Thanks Theresa, Caro, you can go."

Aunty Caroline and Theresa then left and Melissa arranged herself on the see saw we'd used the previous day for Theresa's punishments and told me to stand above her face. As I did I noticed that her camera still lay on the floor.

"Don't you need the camera, Mel?" I inquired, and then I felt her hands cup my buttocks.

"I don't need any camera for what I'm going to do now, darling Sam," I heard her reply, her voice quieter and throatier than before.

And now her exquisite tongue was at work on my pussy, flicking first into my cunt, then moving up across my sex trench to my clit. Then she was flicking the piss flaps, before plunging into my cunt again, and finally delving to my anus, probing it with thrusting tongue flicks.

"Fuck Sam," she gasped, after her initial foray at my minge, "you taste so fucking sweet, so fucking tasty, yum!" And then she was at work again, making me pant as she attacked my clit.

"Oh yes, Mel, that's the story, suck it, lick it, kiss it, I can't get enough, please bring me off, bring me off!" I heard myself plead as her oral adoration brought me up to the peaks of excitement and then tumbling over the top as my climax crashed through my groin.

I moaned and grunted in lust as Melissa slowed the pace of her cunnilingus, then I made to move from her, but still she gripped me firmly by the buttocks.

"You're not going anywhere, missy," she informed me, "there's another taste treat I want from you and I'm staying down here till you give it to me. Come on, let it go!"

And instantly I realised that Melissa was also a piss freak!

"Ohmigod, you're into watersports," I said, somewhat obviously, as I now realise.

"Watersports, golden showers, pussy piss, you fucking name it, I like it," gasped Melissa, "now piss, you lovely little bitch, piss!"

It must have been the panting urgency in her voice that got to me, because although I didn't think I had the slightest need to urinate, the next thing I knew I was letting go a stream of yellow liquid into her wide-open mouth.

For 25 to 30 seconds I concentrated on giving her a nice long drink, then I was done. Melissa looked up at me with beatific smile on her face.

"Fucking sensational," she said from her position on the see saw, "tasty, very tasty, the nicest nectar there is!"

Melissa climbed from the see saw and pulled down her thong to reveal a box with light brown hair, through which two generously fleshy piss flaps descended.

She smiled then placed the thong over my face, arranging it so that the wetness of the gusset lay against my nostrils. The powerful aroma of femina odora sent my senses reeling.

"Nice?" Melissa asked, her eyebrows raised in question mark.

"Oh fuck, you smell great, Mel," I replied, savouring the fantastic feminine fragrance invading me.

"That's just the appetiser," she laughed, "get ready for the real thing."

Then she pushed me so I was lying on the see saw, my head comfortably resting on the rubber pillow. Her hand pulled away the thong, which was a pity because it smelled so fucking fantastic. 

But then my regret was replaced with ecstasy as her aromatic pussy lowered itself to my face. What an odour! It was strong, but so fucking feminine! I didn't want her face sitting on me to ever end!

"Oh suck me, my sweet Sam, suck me!" Melissa moaned as she began to writhe and grind on my sweating face, due to the spotlights in the torture chamber, which she had left on.

"Yes, my cunt, then my anus, cunt, then anus," she instructed, as my tongue went to work on the moistness of her minge.

I obeyed her commands, licking first the lush wetness of her vagina, then probing deeper to lick around the musky sweetness of her arsehole.

Next I flicked back across her cunt, along her labia lips before contacting the engorged clitoris. Although it was my first attack on the "little man in the boat", she started to buck and heave as I worked there.

"Flat tongue me, flat tongue me, I'm going to come, yes, come on Sam, I'm coming, I'm coming!" she cried as I brought her to a climax that must only have taken a minute or so!

My hands caressed her lovely lush bum, and I sensed she would not wish this part of our seduction to end before I had reciprocated in tasting her nectar!

I was right, because after her panting had subsided and she had regained her breath, Melissa spoke in a now calm voice: "Time for drinkies, Sam. That OK with you?"

For a reply I traced my tongue along her minge and whispered: "Try and stop me!"

And her response was a strong, thick stream of yellow urine, which I caught dead centre of my mouth as she released the frenzied flood.

Her salty piss flowed for what seemed like ages, but in reality could only have been some 30 seconds. I swallowed it all down, then licked her urethra, tasting more of the tanginess.

"Open up, I've got more," she gasped, and once more I accepted a piss present, only this one was much shorter and less strong than her initial flood.

I stood up and kissed Melissa on her warm mouth, inhaling the aroma of my pussy as I did. "Switch those spotlights off before they explode," I told her, "then we can go up to the spa pool."

Naked, we climbed into aunty's spa with its wonderful panoramic views out over Brighton. We were cuddled together, breasts sliding over each others, smooching when Aunty Caroline and Theresa arrived from upstairs.

As they entered the spa opposite Mel and me, I noticed that both were somewhat flushed and for a moment felt a pang of jealousy that aunty had been unfaithful to me.

It was a thought I instantly dismissed since I had just enjoyed a minor flirtation with the lovely Melissa – if performing cunnilingus and then indulging in urine drinking may be described as "a minor flirtation"!

"Hello young lovers," smiled Aunty Caroline, as she slipped into the shoulder depth water. Theresa, I noticed as she climbed into the pool, was sporting a rather reddened backside!

"Shoot concluded satisfactorily?" asked Theresa, as she cuddled next to my aunt.

"It went swimmingly," said Melissa. "In fact, I think I've got some very tasty shots," she said, then she kissed me on the mouth, allowing to taste the mixture of pussy juice and piss on her lips. "Wouldn't you agree, Sam?" she asked, saucily.

"Very tasty indeed, my dear Mel," I answered. "I just hope I can look as tasty when the pictures are published."

Aunty Caroline interrupted our double entendres to announce: "Right, we'll have a nice lunch and some excellent Chablis, then I suggest a session in the torture chamber this afternoon. All in favour?"

"Who's going to be the slave, aunty?" I queried.

"Well," smiled Caroline, "it can't be me because I'm a dominatrix."

"And it can't be me," I added, quickly. "After all, I'm a Trainee Tormentor!"

"And you can count me out," said Melissa. "It sounds as if we're going to need some pictorial memento of this punishment session and I'm the official photographer!"

"I guess that leaves me," said Theresa, in mock disappointment. "Three against one – that's so fucking unfair!"

"Yes, agreed my aunt, "but so fucking sexy!"

To be continued.



Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 07



Author's note: for American readers, I would point out that "box" has been a British term for pussy for years, in case the expression may be unfamiliar to some. It may be that the word has now crossed the ditch, but often I find it causes some bewilderment when I use it in conversation with friends from the USA.

After a lovely lunch, we all trooped downstairs to Aunty Caroline's torture chamber for our three-on-one session with the porn magazine publisher, Theresa, the busty 45-year-old masochist, who had expressed her dismay at being ganged up on but was, of course, secretly thrilled at the thought.

For the afternoon's domination games, Caroline, the former Penthouse Pet turned successful dominatrix, the photographer Melissa, 34, and myself had each chosen quarter cup bras and severe, knee-high leather boots – all in gleaming, dominating black leather.

Theresa, of course, was totally naked, except for the rubber swimming cap, which would keep her hair dry during the water sports section, which was bound to be an inevitable part of the session.

Once inside the well-equipped chamber, Aunty Caroline, as per usual, took charge!

"Right, girls," she said, with enthusiasm, "we're going to start with a game I seldom play, because we rarely have three dominas playing with a solo slave. I call it 'The 3 Bs'.

"Now, you've all heard of the 3 Rs from our school days, I suppose – 'riting, reading and 'rithmetic. The 3 Bs is an adoration game, involving breasts, buttocks and boxes.

"We've all got numbers. Since the numbering is in alphabetical order, I'm No 1, Mel you're No 2, which makes you, Sam, No 3. So when I call out 'box 2', Theresa here will go as quickly as she can and worship Mel's box. If I order 'breasts 3', she will go and worship Sam's boobs.

"She will always start from a kneeling position in the centre of the torture chamber and will be encouraged in her efforts to start worshipping by the fact that we will also have floggers, which we will use on her to get her to work.

" Now, let's select our weapons!"

I chose a beautiful red rubber cat o' nine tails, Mel went for a slim, single-lashed whip, while Aunty Caroline selected a yard-long leather paddle.

While we chose our implements of persuasion, Theresa knelt in the centre of the torture chamber, breasts heaving, eyes gleaming with anticipation at the punishment to come. She's such a fucking masochist!

Aunt Caroline then indicated we should spread out around the outer edge of the room. When we were in position, and to my great delight, she called out: "Box 3."

Theresa turned, since I was standing well behind her, and began to crawl towards where I had adopted a widespread stance, my pussy ready for her oral adoration. As she did so, Mel and Aunt Caroline advanced on her with their lash and paddle and directed several blows on her back and buttocks as she crawled in the direction of my snatch.

As I felt Theresa's eager mouth working on my wetness, Aunty Caroline and Melissa returned to their places. I enjoyed a minute or two of sheer pleasure, as the porn magazine publisher licked and sucked at my sex, before my aunt called: "Boobs 2."

Theresa removed her mouth from my moist minge and turned to crawl toward Melissa. As she presented her lovely, lush bum, I flicked my rubber cat o' nine tails across her arse, and was soon joined by Aunty Caroline with her paddle in encouraging our slave to crawl as quickly as possible to Melissa. When she arrived, Theresa rose to a standing position and started to suck and lick on the photographer's 38-inch breasts.

"Buttocks 1" called aunty after a while, and Theresa knelt to her crawling position and moved on the floor towards Caroline's arse, while Melissa and I encouraged her to make it snappy with our floggers.

When she finally arrived behind Aunt Caroline's lovely bare bum, Theresa was ordered: "And make sure I feel your tongue on my anus!" Lucky slave! Lucky aunty!

And so we enjoyed a lovely half an hour of Theresa worshipping our boobs, bums and boxes, until Aunty Caroline sat back in one of her easy chairs, plonked her firm thighs on each arm and ordered Theresa: "Box 1 – and I want an orgasm."

Mel and I whipped Theresa over to the waiting pussy, and watched as Caroline enjoyed a nice eating. As she was being brought to a noisy climax, Caroline indicated to Melissa that she should occupy the torture chamber's other easy chair.

After calming down, aunty told Theresa: "Box 2, also to orgasm" and she and I whipped our slave back across the floor to where Melissa's moist minge awaited its turn at being tongued to satisfaction.

While Theresa completed that task, aunty told me to get ready in the other chair. I spread my legs wide and after Melissa had recovered from her excitement, watched as Caroline and the photographer whipped Theresa back across the room for her final labour of love in the 3 Bs game.

After Theresa had done a fantastic job of bringing me to the Big O, Aunty Caroline once more took charge.

"Right, Theresa," she instructed our plaything, "get the plastic sheeting down, it's time for your drinks session."

Theresa actually stamped her foot! "No, I won't," she said, petulantly. "I've had enough urine for one day, and enough is enough. I'm putting my foot down!"

I gasped and then realised that this, of course, was all part of the scenario she had planned with aunty.

My aunt looked simply delighted at this bout of stubbornness from our slave. "Oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear," she said, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "Well, Theresa, you disappoint me, but since you are being so reluctant, then we'll have to find a way of changing your mind."

And with that, Aunty Caroline instructed Melissa and I to pinion Theresa into the straps on the punishment posts. When we had done this, with Theresa hanging naked and defiant in place, Aunty Caroline walked to her equipment bench and returned to face her victim holding a sinister looking dildo, made of bright red plastic.

Then she flicked a switch in the handle and it began to make an ominous low humming sound. The noise instantly got Theresa's attention, her eyes bulged and she began to writhe in her bonds.

"No, no, oh no, not the shocker, please Caroline, please, I've changed my mind, I'll drink the piss, oh please, I want to drink the piss, I need to drink the piss, Please let me down, I'll behave, I promise," she pleaded.

Aunty, of course, laughed in her face. "Don't be so silly, Theresa," she chided. "After Melissa and Samantha have gone to all this trouble of getting you strapped into place, I'm certainly not going to see their labours count for nothing," she said.

"No, I'm sorry, but there's only one thing for it. You disobeyed my order and now you'll pay for it."

And with that, Aunty Caroline traced the tip of the shocker across Theresa's heavy breasts. The publisher let out a squeal, and her breasts heaved in turmoil as the current hit her. Aunty Caroline let her regain her composure, then sent a jolt through her left nipple. Another squeal escaped the victim's lips.

For a while, Caroline tormented the heavy-breasted woman's boobs and nipples, before walking behind her.

Theresa began pleading again: "No more, no more, please, oh pretty please, have mercy on me." Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

From where Melissa and I sat on the couch, we saw the slave give a sudden jerk and then wildly thrash around as Aunty Caroline must have pressed the shocker against Theresa's anus.

"Oh god, not there, no, please, not there," cried the slave as aunty pressed the shocker once more to her arsehole and jolted her once, twice, three times.

Theresa had broken out in a film of perspiration, which gleamed seductively on her bound figure, tears of sweat tracing down her throat to slide over her lush 40-inch breasts.

"Oh, OK, you smooth-talking slave," said Aunty Caroline, "I'll stop there and try your front instead."

She then walked in front of Theresa's naked body and again the slave woman stared in anguished anticipation as her tormentress placed the shocker tantalisingly close to her shaved snatch.

" No, no, no, I beg you!" Theresa protested and aunty laughed in her face again.

"You're so fucking hard to please, Theresa," said Aunty Caroline. "You object when I give you a little playtime on your titties. It's nothing but complaints when I tease your anus a bit.

"And now it seems you're trying to protect your pussy. Well, I'm sorry, but you've got to have it, so you may as well shut up and behave like a lady. Really, all this shouting and screaming."

And then the shocker did its work on Theresa's piss flaps, first the left, then the right.

Theresa's body arched and she yelled out something which sounded like "Arrrrggh" as she writhed futilely against the straps which held her in place.

"Oh really," said Aunty Caroline, "such a fuss. Melissa, find a ball gag for her, I'm tired of all this commotion."

Melissa fetched a red rubber ball gag with black straps, which she popped into Theresa's mouth and fastened at the back of her rubber bathing cap. This reduced the blubbering to a low sort of "Mmmmmfff" sound.

Then Aunty Caroline resumed her snatch shocking session. Theresa's cunt, her clit and her labia were all severely tested, all to a muffled series of "Mmmmmmffffs" until, at last, aunty decided that her plaything had had enough.

Melissa removed her gag and Theresa hung limp and defeated before her friend.

"Now, are you going to behave, or shall I resume on your breasts again, my darling," she inquired of the busty masochist.

"I'll behave," Theresa whispered, "I'll behave."

"Tell us you want to drink our piss," said Aunty Caroline, rubbing it in, I felt.

"I want to drink your piss," said Theresa.

"No, no, put some ardour, some passion into it, for crying out loud," said Caroline.

"Please Caroline, please let me drink your piss – and Melissa's and Samantha's, please, pretty please," the slave woman begged.

"Much better," laughed Caroline. "Of course we will. All right girls, release her and then when I tell her to fetch the rubber sheet perhaps she'll jump to it, this time."

Theresa, of course, behaved like a meek little lamb this time she was told to fetch the rubber sheet and she laid it out on the floor and obediently stretched out, face up, on the rubber.

"Anyone in urgent need of a pee?" asked Caroline, and Melissa stepped forward.

Aunty and I cuddled together on the couch and we watched the near-naked blonde, her 38-inch breasts protruding erotically from the quarter-cup bra, stand directly above Theresa's mouth.

A strong, yellow stream of piss splattered onto Theresa's face, as she attempted to catch some in her mouth, but the strength of the flow was too much and it splashed across her cheeks, jaw and forehead. Then Melissa aimed another blast at Theresa's breasts and the slave cupped her big boobs together to catch the flow.

Melissa then squatted and rubbed her pussy all over the older woman's breasts before offering her minge for adoration. She was soon enjoying a noisy orgasm on Theresa's mouth.

I went next, squatting directly above Theresa's face, my pussy inches from her urine-drenched features. I gave her a strong stream and she opened her mouth to accept most of my nectar.

Then, like Melissa, I graunched my minge around on her still-stained breasts before planting my pussy firmly on her mouth and thrusting to climax.

Aunty Caroline was the final piss punisher. "Open wide, Theresa," she ordered, as her slave looked up her lovely long legs to her pussy, gleaming with arousal juices. Theresa obeyed and aunty's dark yellow flood soon overflowed into her mouth, due to the pressure of the piss flow.

Caroline's next move was to drench the woman's breasts, then in duplication of Melissa and my moves, she smeared her snatch around on Theresa's massive breasts before offering the porn publisher her pussy to lick at.

The result was a noisy, excited orgasm for my aunt.

"There," said aunty, when she had alighted from the heights of orgasm, "wasn't that lovely."

Theresa stood up and cuddled her. "It was wonderful," she said, kissing aunty gently on the lips. "Why don't we all get together and do it again next week?"

To be continued.



Caroline Takes Charge Ch. 08



The days rushed past all too quickly. Each day Aunty Caroline and I would play in her dungeon – unless she had a full diary of slaves – and I would, of course, be the submissive. Aunty Caroline was always in charge, it was her style.

In the bedroom we were equal opportunity lovers, although it was mainly Aunty Caroline on top. The only times I got to practice my domination techniques was when the 45-year-old magazine publisher, Theresa, visited for her whipping and water sports sessions. Luckily for me, she visited twice more after our sensationally raunchy triple domme session with the photographer, Melissa.

On the final night of my stay, as Aunty Caroline and I lay in each others arms, relaxing after a particularly exhausting romp in her bed, she kissed me and asked: "Well Sam, do you think you've learned anything about human sexuality during your stay?"

I laughed and kissed her back eagerly. She may have been, at 38, a "former" Penthouse Pet, but she was still hugely attractive.

"Aunt Caroline, I've learnt enough to fill a book," I told her, words which were prescient, although at the time I was unaware of that fact.

The next day, she drove me to the airport, kissed me tenderly on the mouth and whispered "Good studying" before she wheeled her lovely little Lotus sports car out of the station car park. I think I detected a glint of a tear in her eye.

Back at university the next day, Penny Potts, the 36-year-old lecturer who had once remarked that I had an "eminently spankable bum", or words to that effect, lectured on "La Vice Anglais, or the English predilection for flogging", and an extremely well argued lecture, it was.

As I was leaving the lecture theatre Ms Potts caught my eye and motioned me over. "My dear Sam," she smiled, "so nice to see you again, and how was your holiday?"

I looked at the full-breasted, tall brunette with the dark brown eyes. Whether it because of my initiation into Lesbian love with my aunt I don't know, but Ms Potts seemed somehow more attractive to me now.

"It was very, very exciting," I told her, which was a complete understatment, if ever there was one.

Ms Potts glanced at her watch. "It's 1.30," she said, "and this was my only lecture today. Let's find a quiet corner in the Horse and Hounds and you can tell me all about it over a ploughman's lunch – my shout!"

I nodded keenly, noticing that Ms Potts large breasts were partially revealed in a crisp white blouse, due to the fact that the top three buttons were undone. Her hips were sheathed in a gleaming black leather mini. Yes, she was starting to grow on me, was Ms Potts.

Somehow we found an empty booth in a far corner of the H and H, and Ms Potts brought over two foaming pints of draught Guinness. "The ploughman's are on their way," she smiled, setting one big Guinness in front of me.

"Cheers," she said, "here's to a very successful semester," as she chugged on her Guinness. "Now, tell me all about your break."

"Well, I stayed with my aunt, in Brighton," I began.

"Oh, I just love Brighton, it's such a nice seaside town," said Ms Potts.

Then I decided to jolt Ms Potts out of her comfort zone. "My aunt's a former Penthouse Pet, she's got a smashing figure for a 38-year-old and she operates as a high-class dominatrix," I informed my lecturer, watching her jaw drop ever so slightly.

"Fascinating," Ms Potts murmured, and I know she was secretly extremely interested.

"Not only that, but she specialises in female slaves," I added, then shutting up as the pub waitress plonked down two hearty plates of ploughman's lunch in front of us.

When the waitress had left, I rushed on: "And aunty has a lovely time, flogging them, making them drink her urine. She even let me take part in some of her sessions with one of her most devout masochists."

Ms Potts was hooked. "Water sports?"

I nodded. "They're great. I've even drunk my aunty's piss and it's quite an interesting taste. You should try it – oh, sorry, Ms Potts, you probably already have!"

Ms Potts' face was getting redder, and she shook her head violently. "No, no, Sam, I've never played golden showers, or whatever, although I've heard of them, of course."

I revelled in shocking her even further. Sex lecturer or not, she was drinking down every word.

"Oh, they're great," I enthused. "Every time aunty and I had a shower we'd piss over each others breasts, rub them against each other, then lick them. You should try it, it's great fun!"

Ms Potts almost gaped, but controlled herself. "Now, Sam, I'm no prude but your aunt – your mother's sister, your father's?"

"Aunty Caroline is mummy's sister," I informed her.

"But – but that's incest!" Ms Potts insisted.

I laughed. "Oh, Ms Potts, don't be so fucking prudish," I said, using the "f" word deliberately. "It's not like we're going to have babies and produce gibbering idiots. There's no harm in it, it's not like I'm fucking my brother or daddy.

"I've had the best sex ever with my aunty, she's so sensual."

Ms Potts gathered her composure, but I could see she was brimful with questions.

"And did your aunty, er, did she, er, did she dominate you?"

I broke off a chunk of bread and placed some cheese and gherkins in it and enjoyed a mouthful.

"Of course she did, silly," I laughed. "She's a dominatrix."

"And which did you prefer?" asked Ms Potts, hardly touching her meal.

"Well, being tied up and flogged, especially on my pussy, was very exciting, Ms Potts," I told her. "But there's something about taking charge, as Aunty Caroline puts it. "Although being a slave does have its rewards.

"Imagine yourself, spreadeagled and tied down on a rubber sheet on a bed, helpless, your domina standing over you. She's holding a cruel little riding crop. What's she going to do first? Whip your pussy? Your breasts?

"Or is she going to caress them with her tongue, instead? Or perhaps both – a crack across an erect nipple, then a lovely teasing little lick from her tongue. Or on your snatch? A stinging blow, then the delights of oral adoration. Oh, wouldn't it be exciting, Ms Potts?"

She didn't answer, instead diving into her ploughman's lunch and gulping down a helping of bread, cheese and pickled onions.

"And then," I said, after a quick quaff of Guinness, "you are freed, but your dominatrix climbs onto the bed and you notice she's wearing a lovely little black thong, it's shiny against her lush pussy.

"She settles back and orders you to bring her to climax using your tongue – but only on the material. You start to work, the material is sopping wet, but it smells so good, so raunchy, so fucking tasty, Ms Potts.

"And then." And I paused. 

Ms Potts leapt into the silence: "Yes, Sam, yes – and then?"

She was almost fucking panting!

"And then she announces that she's bursting for a pee, she really has to get up and go to the toilet." And I paused again.

"Yes, Sam, and what do I say?" begged Ms Potts, her meal again totally forgotten.

"You say 'Oh please, mistress, please, don't go, don't leave me'. And your domina says 'But you don't understand, Ms Potts, I have to go wee wee'.

"And you say, 'Stay, please, mistress, I'll drink your wee wee'."

Ms Potts took a swig of the remnants of her Guinness and grabbed my glass. "I'm in need of another – I'll hear the rest in a minute, I have to have a break, but I need – I must – hear what happens next."

And the leather-skirted lecturer quickly walked to the bar and I couldn't help noticing the way the skirt shimmered against her bouncing buttocks. Hmmmn, I thought, an eminently spankable bum!

Ms Potts returned with our drinks. "Right," she said, "I've begged you – er, my mistress, I mean – to stay so I can drink her urine. Then what?"

I smiled. "You are staring at the gusset of her knickers. Then you notice a dark stain appearing. It gets a little bit bigger, then a little flow of yellow liquid emerges from the shiny satin.

"Then the flow becomes a stream and it's spraying from the panties. You open your mouth and drink. Nectar!"

Ms Potts took a great big swallow of her stout and sat back with a sigh. "And after that," she said, "the dominatrix pulls off her panties, places them over my face and makes me lick her to orgasm! Yes! Yes!"

And the lovely lady pumped her fist in the air twice, just like Tiger Woods after sinking a particularly important putt.

I took another gulp of Guinness and smiled: "That's it, Ms Potts, I think you're getting the picture."

Then I leaned forward. Time to proceed to the crux of the matter, I thought. "How about it, Ms Potts?"

She looked at me, suddenly cool, calm and collected.

"Your place, or mine?"

*  *  *  *

EPILOGUE:

Well, that all happened a few months ago. Ms Potts – I call her Penny now, she calls me "Mistress Sam" – suggested that for my thesis I write a dissertation entitled "To dominate or to submit?" and sub-titled "Dominatrix or slave?"

I got a masters degree in sexuality, thanks to her help, and, of course, the experience I had gained during my holiday with Aunty Caroline.

After appearing in Theresa's magazine as a trainee dominatrix, the magazine was inundated with inquiries about me, where could I be contacted and so on. It seemed like a good idea to go into the domination business.

I'm now established a few doors down from Aunty Caroline as "the Brighton Belle", which some people find amusing as it was the name of a famous express train to the south coast. I tend to dominate – pardon the pun – the younger end of the female submissive market, while Aunty Caroline attracts the more mature woman.

I'm assisted in my extremely lucrative venture by Penny Potts, who resigned from the university to become my live-in lover and takes all the bookings and vets clients.

Every now and again, Penny enjoys a session of submission with me and Aunty Caroline. Sometimes we have a double domme, double slave session, involving Caroline and I, with Theresa and Penny. They can become somewhat steamy, but we always end up in the spa, kissing and hugging and drinking far too much Krug!

I have recently had a book published, "Domination or Submission: the choice for the modern woman". It's illustrated with pictures taken by Melissa showing me being "mean" to my lovely lady, Penny.

It's doing very well, thanks to some extremely enthusiastic reviews. The Times, of London, called it "a superbly researched, intensely intelligent catalogue of options open to today's independent woman".

The Guardian ended its review with: "Thank God there are some women around today who aren't prepared to just lie back and think of England!"

The tabloid Sun summed it up in three words: "Phew, whatta scorcha!"

It has just made the New York Times best-seller list, which I'm told is an indication of making it big in the United States. I'd tell you what the newspaper whose motto is "All the news that's fit to print" said, but I can't understand a word of it.

So, thanks to my holiday with Aunty Caroline, everything's going swimmingly.

And I'm definitely in charge!

THE END