Chapter 3

First instructions

Bukkake Baby, Test # 2

I hardly remember the drive home. My mind was filled with flashes of everything that happened to me over the last eighteen hours. My body was sore from the different positions they had me restrained in. My vagina and abdominal muscles were sore and aching from the number of times I had been fucked, not forgetting to mention the intense orgasms I’d experienced.

It wasn’t the first time in my life I’d had such a big session of sex like I did last night. But it was the first time in a while. I knew from experience that it would take my body two or three days to recover.

Now that I was back in my own familiar space, I had time to think about last night's events and try to decide where all this was headed, if at all.

The other thing I had to consider was what I would say to my husband, my Master, the next time he made contact. Did he secretly arrange for Master Allan to bump into me at the beach? How far did he want me to go with this? After last night, Master Allan had assumed some ownership of me. If I refused, would I be disobeying my husband’s instructions and face punishment?

He instructed me not to refuse anyone’s touch or approach. That I thought was at the beach. Did he expect it to turn into a gang bang that lasted most of the night? Did I go too far with his instructions? For fuck’s sake, my mind was spinning. As usual, I followed my sexual appetite and look where I am now.

I had so many questions racing through my mind. To make matters worse, I may not hear from my husband again for days, weeks, or even months because of his job or his location. I know from experience that he was keen to keep my submissive life ticking over. Was this the reason for what happened last night?

When one question floated into my mind, another quickly followed. I didn’t have Master Allan’s phone number, so I'd have to sit tight and wait to see what happened next.

The other issue that came to mind is whether to ask Master Allan straight out if my husband chose him. And if I did, would he give a straight answer? The questions just kept coming; it was time to wait and see.

Three days had passed since returning home from the big night at Master Allan's. By this stage, my body had healed, and the soreness had almost disappeared. I was spending time off work on holiday, enjoying the warm summer days.

My mind was becoming clogged with sexual thoughts; being alone these summer days was doing nothing to satisfy my sexual appetite. I kept visiting the beach at the end of our street, wearing nothing but a bikini and my collar. I was admiring the hunky men with muscular bodies frolicking in the water and the beautiful women lying in the sun, wearing nothing except a G-string bikini.

Every time I returned home to the empty house, I was aroused and spent time in the shower masturbating, trying hard to quell the sexual tension. When my husband is home, I am always sexually satisfied. Living the BDSM lifestyle with him as my Master ensures my submissive desires are always fulfilled.

At around 7.00 am on the fourth day since returning from Master Allan’s house, my mobile phone rang beside my bed. I picked it up, and the words “Unknown number” appeared across the display.  My immediate thought was that it might be a scammer.

I answered the phone, “Hello, this is Laura speaking.”

There was a long pause before the caller said, “Hello, slave girl. This is your master Allan. How are you going?”

A sense of jubilation, intertwined with fear, flooded through me. “Oh, hello, Master Allan. I’m doing fine, thank you for asking, Sir,” I said, with my voice shaking.

“That’s great. Have you heard from your own Master yet?” he asked.

A nervous tingle shot up my spine at the thought of why he asked this so early in the call. “No, Sir, not yet. But I may not hear from him for some time. It could be weeks or even months,” I answered.

“Did you enjoy the other night? Do you have any questions or concerns regarding the things you experienced?” he asked.

“Yes, Master Allan, I thoroughly enjoyed it, a lot more than I was expecting,” I replied.

“What were you expecting, little slave girl?” he asked.

A sense of nervousness came over me as I thought about the question. “Mmm, I thought by the ambiguous instructions that my husband gave that he might’ve set someone up on the beach to meet me. But I have no way of knowing. I never expected to meet an experienced person to submit to, I certainly didn’t expect an all-night gang bang,” I answered.

“Do you think this is a setup or not?” he asked.

I paused again before answering. “Master Allan, I don’t know. I feel somewhat confused, and not sure where to go with this.” “I mean, I really feel honoured to meet you, as for last night, I enjoyed every minute of it,” I said.

“Well, Laura, just ask yourself this question. What would your own Master want and expect from you, taking into consideration your normally open or BDSM Non-monogamous relationship?” “I am not going to advise you one way or the other; only you can decide. Go by your own instincts,” he suggested.

“Hmm,” I sighed. I paused momentarily, thinking about what he said and when he spoke up and said, “You know what. I can see you need a little time to think about this. I will ring you back in two hours, just after 9.00 am. You can give me your answer then: either ‘I will submit’ or ‘I want to leave’. It’s your choice.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I said as he hung up the phone.

Fuck! I thought. I was now caught between a rock and a hard place. I thought carefully about what he said, and yes, he was right. What would my own Master want? I guess I already knew the answer; I was trying to kid myself that he would want something different from me. Our non-monogamous relationship was a result of his occupation, the long periods of time away from home and my insatiable sexual desires.

I spent the next two hours going over everything in my head. I had submitted to numerous Dominants over the years, mainly those with experience. Allan had experience. How much? That was yet to be determined. Was I ready to submit to a brand-new Dom again? What were the pros and cons?

I thought I was agonising over this decision, but in fact I know, deep down, what I wanted.

It was now a waiting game, with me keeping one eye on the clock as the time slowly ticked by and the other on my phone. I was nervous. I checked my phone several times, making sure it wasn’t on silent and that it had a good signal. My anxiety was beginning to peak. I kept cross-checking the decision I'd made in my head against my experience. I was comparing the pros and cons of previous Doms. In the end, it didn’t matter; I had made my decision.

Finally, my phone rang. Another call from an “unknown caller.” I waited until it had rung a few times, then nervously picked it up and answered.

“I WILL SUBMIT!” I said loudly into the mouthpiece.

There was a long pause that seemed to last forever.

Finally, Master Allan spoke firmly. “Are you willing to surrender your mind and body to me and anyone else I choose?”

“YES, Master Allan, I will submit my mind and body to you or to anyone else you choose,” I said, sounding definite.

There was another long pause.

“LAURA! Listen carefully.” “As of 9.00 am this morning, you are officially my submissive. YOU WILL! Obey my rules. YOU WILL! Follow my instructions to the letter. I WILL! Provide you with an official contract setting out in writing the rules I expect you to follow.” “LAURA! Do you agree?”

“Yes, Master Allan, I agree,” I replied.

“Good. Today you will be tested. You will be humiliated. You will provide pleasure.” “There is a parcel on your doorstep. I want you to open it, read the instructions, and follow them,” he said firmly.

“Yes, Master Allan,” I replied before he ended the call.

I set the phone back on the table and sank into the chair. Oh my God, I thought. Here I go again. A new Master, new rules, and new adventures. A sudden wave of excitement washed over me, the feeling that I had made the right decision.

I quickly went to the front door. On the doorstep, a neatly wrapped parcel sat with an envelope containing a card. Once back inside, I opened the envelope and looked at the card. On the front was a simple hand-drawn picture of a naked girl with black, wavy hair, collared, kneeling on a mat with her wrists cuffed together behind her back and a red ball gag in her mouth. The picture was an uncanny likeness of me. I opened the card, and the words ‘LAURA – MY SLAVE’ were written in calligraphy.

Master Allan knew all along what my answer would be. He was too prepared to think anything else.

I unwrapped the parcel. I opened it to find a black-and-silver chastity belt, a few accessories for it, a black rubber or silicone collar, and a piece of paper with instructions. I began to read the instructions carefully.

“Dear Slave girl,

You are being taken to the Southern end of your local nudist beach this morning to provide public pleasure. When this is completed, you will return to my house for further training.

INSTRUCTIONS AS FOLLOWS

-          Prepare yourself, remove all bodily hair except for your head.

-          Except for sandals, REMOVE YOUR CLOTHES. You MUST be naked for the entire day today. (Any required clothing will be provided to you by one of my assistants.)

-          Lock the leather collar around your neck with the unlocked padlock provided. (Make sure it is locked only once, as the key is with me)

-          Lock yourself into the chastity belt using the provided unlocked padlock. (Do not use the additional vaginal insert and retaining plate)

-          The driver will arrive at 10.45 am and park in your driveway.

-          YOU WILL sit in the centre seat at the rear of the car. (The driver will open the door for you)

-          YOU WILL sit with your knees wide apart so he may clearly see your labia protruding through the vertical slot of the chastity belt.

-          YOU WILL NOT close your legs or stop him from touching you if he desires.

-          YOU WILL walk from the drop-off point through the Southern carpark to the gravel walkway along the cliffs to the nudist beach.

-          YOU WILL be met by my assistant where the pathway meets the beach.

-          YOU WILL follow their instructions.

-          YOU WILL NOT refuse the touches, sexual or otherwise, from any person.

-          YOU WILL please the men as detailed by my assistant.

-          YOU WILL walk to my house at the completion of this session.

Signed, Master Allan.”

I thought the instructions were clear enough, and I couldn’t see any issues. He had planned this well, and I’d only just realised he somehow knew where I lived. I don’t remember telling him where I lived the other night. As far as I remember, I’d only left him my mobile phone number.

I picked up the collar and examined it. It was 25 mm wide and made of either rubber or silicone. It had a front loop with a black metal tag attached and a lockable buckle at the rear. The black tag hanging from the loop had ‘Laura’ engraved on one side and ‘Property of Master Allan’ on the other.

With me already naked and hairless, I decided to put the collar on. The moment it was correctly adjusted, I locked the padlock onto the buckle. A wave of submission flooded through my body, knowing only Master Allan held the key. Anytime I moved, the black metal tag swung back and forth. The entire collar was waterproof.

I liked it. Looking in the bedroom mirror, I saw the collar matched the colour of my hair and looked sexy on me.

I picked up and examined the chastity belt. I had seen pictures of these online before. A silicone-covered cable went around both hips and joined to a silver metal piece at the front. At the rear, another silicone cable ran from a T-piece at the centre of the other silicone cable, down through the arse cheeks. Partway down this silicone cable, where it connected to the main metal centrepiece. This metal centrepiece has two stainless-steel rods at the rear, creating a 40-45 mm circular opening that sits directly over the sphincter, and it then connects to the section covering the vulva.

The section covering the vulva has a vertical slot that allows urination and partial protrusion of the labia. The slot is too narrow for finger insertion but wide enough to touch the vulva's protruding flesh. A vaginal insert is included as an accessory. It is about 100 mm tall and consists of four steel balls mounted vertically on a stem. It is usually held in place by a retaining plate that screws over the top of the vaginal slot. If worn with the belt, the insert can move inside the vagina while walking.

Due to the length of the vaginal insert, wearing the belt for extended periods can be considered torture. However, when the belt is worn without it, the flesh of the clitoral hood and the labia rub against the metal slot when it partially protrudes. The person wearing the belt can be sexually teased whenever the protruding flesh is touched.

Maybe Master Allan was planning for me to wear it for an extended period. The belt effectively prevented any vaginal penetration. However, it still provided access to the anus through the 40 to 45 mm opening.

After one last check of everything, I went about locking myself into the chastity belt. Firstly, I positioned the main metal piece between my legs, up against my crotch. When I put it in the correct position, my clitoral hood protruded through the slot. Because of the vertical slots' shape and curved edges, my labia slipped through the slots quite easily with a bit of jiggling. The harder I pulled the belt up into my crotch, the more flesh poked out through the slot.

I adjusted the length of the two hip straps so that, when their loop ends went over the front locking post, the belt stayed snug. I reached down and checked that the circular opening was directly above and in line with my sphincter. When the belt was tight in position, this circular opening made sure my arse cheeks were spread open at the sphincter.

Once the ends of both hip straps were over the locking post and I was satisfied with the chastity belt's adjustment and position, I locked the padlock onto the post, keeping the belt from coming off.

The process of adjusting and setting up the belt's position had aroused me. I ran my hand down the front of the belt and gently felt my clitoral hood and the labia as they pushed through the vertical slot. Wow! I thought it felt unbelievably sexy. I tested the gap of the vertical slot with my fingers, and there was no way I could penetrate the vagina. I could certainly stroke some of my labia and the hood covering the clitoris, but that was about all.

I reached behind my bum and pressed my fingers against the sphincter through the belt's circular opening. I circled my finger around it and realised nothing was preventing me from accessing my sphincter.

I explored this belt for about five to ten minutes, testing its capabilities. Every time I moved, it rubbed against my clitoris and labia. The more I moved, the more aroused I became. I soon realised it was hard to masturbate effectively while wearing this belt. I could stroke some of my labia and touch the clitoral hood, but I knew I was never going to be sexually satisfied wearing it. As my arousal increased, my clitoris swelled, pressing harder against the underside of the plate, only to be soothed by stroking the hood through the slot.

As the labia swelled slightly from arousal, they were squashed through the slot more tightly, further enhancing the arousal. I could immediately understand how the chastity belt was going to frustrate the fuck out of me. So far, I had been wearing it for no more than fifteen minutes.

I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror, and the chastity belt seemed very sexy. The thin black silicone straps extended from either side of the padlocked post at the front, over and around my hips, meeting at the centre at the back. The shiny metal centrepiece passed down between my legs, with a vertical slot at the front that showed pink flesh protruding through it. Not to mention my sphincter, almost visible through the circular opening at the rear. I grabbed and pulled at the straps and centrepiece; it felt secure. It was undoubtedly arousing me. I kept touching the front of the belt, brushing over the protruding flesh.

The moment the driver pulled into the driveway, I suddenly felt nervous for the first time today. After shutting the front door behind me, I was only wearing my shoes, collar, and chastity belt as I made my way to the car. The Indian driver greeted me with a smile and held the rear door open. As I got in, he guided me to the seat, his right hand resting on my left buttock. His fingers were close to the circular opening, which caught me slightly off guard. I didn’t react, recalling Master Allan’s instructions.

Once my seat belt was secure, I spread my knees wide apart. I looked up and noticed the driver had his rearview mirror tilted downward, so he was looking directly between my legs. He turned and said, “Good morning, Miss. Please enjoy the ride.”

“Good morning to you, Sir,” I replied politely.

Then he asked, “Do you have much on today, Miss?”

This brought an immediate smile to my face, “Ah, not much on at all at the moment." “It’s probably going to be like that for the rest of the day,” I told him. I noticed he smiled, but I don’t think he could see the joke.

As he drove towards the nudist beach, the bumpy road made me bounce up and down in the seat. Each time, it aroused me as the belt rubbed against my sensitive bits. The nervousness and arousal fought against one another as we drew closer to the drop-off point.

“Here you go, Miss. We are at the drop-off point. Please have a good day,” the driver said as I exited the car.

‘You, too, Sir. Enjoy your day,” I said, shutting the door.

He drove off, leaving me standing in the middle of the car park. This car park was perched atop the high cliffs overlooking the nudist beach and considerably less public than the Northern Carpark. Even so, most of those arriving and leaving the beach were men. 

I started walking down the steep gravel path to the beach. The path zigged and zagged as it descended. It was a warm day, and I could already see that the beach was busy. Several men walking up the path towards me slowed and stared at what I was wearing. Their eyes were drawn directly to the vertical slot at the front of the chastity belt. I began to get increasingly aroused with every step I took.

I stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. Not because I was tired, only because I noticed how eager these men were when they passed me. To them, I must’ve looked like a chastised bondage slut, alone and wanting some action. One man stopped after passing me, as if he were about to ask me something or follow me.

When I finally stepped off the pathway and onto the beach, I stopped again, wondering what would happen next. I noticed numerous men turn to stare at me. The descent into the unknown had aroused me so much that I felt the area between the chastity belt and my vulva grow wet. My labia, now slippery, slid more easily through the slot.

I was hornier now than I had been all day. A naked male beachgoer stomped over to me, carrying a black rubber leash. “Inspection position, slave girl,” he said abruptly.

I immediately placed my hands clasped behind the back of my head and spread my legs wide as I stared out to sea. “Good!” he said, clipping the leash onto the same loop as the metal tag.

 “Keep your hands behind your head and follow me,” he instructed.

I had to assume he was one of Master Allan’s assistants. There were no introductions, no niceties; it was all rather formal.

As I followed him through the soft sand near the numerous naked men lying on the beach, watching me, I couldn’t help but notice how many had hard or semi-hard cocks. Several began wanking as they watched me. My clitoris was hard, pushing through the slot of the belt along with the labia. I wanted to touch myself now more than ever.

I was led to a square tent which had been erected on the beach about fifty metres from the bottom of the pathway. It was at least 1.8 metres tall and 3 metres square. When the main flap opened to let me in, I noticed a wooden T-shaped pole set atop a wooden disc in the sand. The T-shaped pole was about one metre high. The horizontal top was about half a metre wide. There was a loop in the centre of this horizontal beam and one at either end. The round disc at the bottom was covered in foam. I knew straight away it was some bondage device.

The man who led me in pointed to the timber disc and said Kneel. “Yes, Sir,” I replied as I began to lower myself.

The moment I knelt on the disc, another man, someone I had never met, entered the tent carrying several small lengths of rope and a shopping bag. He disconnected the leash, threaded one length through the same loop, and pulled my head down to the loop mounted in the centre of the crossbeam. He tied the loop of my collar to the beam, keeping my head from lifting. Then, one by one, he tied each of my wrists to the loops at the ends of the crossbeam. Because of the crossbeam's height, I had to kneel to take the pressure off my back. This also left me easily accessible from both ends.

After he finished tying me onto the T-piece, he pulled out several packets of condoms and a large bottle of lubricant from the shopping bag and placed them on the sand inside the tent flap.

The moment I saw this, I knew that apart from my mouth, there was only one other place on my body where a cock could fit. I have never been a fan of anal sex; I guess today was going to be more humiliating than I thought possible.

I quickly realised that spreading my knees wider aligned my neck and body at a more comfortable angle. Once he was satisfied with my position, he spun the contraption around, and it rotated smoothly through 360 degrees. For some reason, I felt that the humiliation was about to start.

The two assistants left, leaving me alone in the tent. Someone outside blew a whistle, the same kind used at football matches. Within twenty seconds, naked men, all unknown to me, entered the tent. The first one pushed his cock to my lips, leaving me no choice but to take it into my mouth. Another two men dropped their cocks into my tied hands. The fourth man was behind me and began probing my arse. The moment he pushed his finger through the sphincter, I yelped, even though a cock filled my mouth.

I eagerly sucked this guy's cock, tasting plenty of his precum in no time at all. At the same time, I was either wanking the cocks filling my hands or thrusting whilst I held them. I was now so fucking horny. Another two guys entered the tent, and more hands were upon me. The moment one guy's cock was withdrawn, it was immediately replaced with another. I was sucking or wanking six guys in the tent at one time. I was being rotated on the pedestal. One of the men with a thinner cock squirted a copious amount of lubricant onto my sphincter and massaged it in. I felt lubricant dribbling down between my vulva and the metal plate.

The condoms were quickly picked up and filled with a hard cock, especially when they knew there was a tight hole presented to them at the back. Without any warning, one man pushed his condom-covered cock into my anus. I moaned loudly as it slid easily into my tight, slicked-up hole. Once the discomfort eased, he began fucking me.

This had become a frenzy of fucking, sucking, wanking and being cummed on. Each time one of the men ejaculated, they covered my body with the stuff. It was rubbed all over my body, on top and underneath. Hands were stroking my labia through the belt. I was becoming increasingly desperate to be fucked vaginally.

As soon as any man unloaded his cum on my body or in my mouth, his cock was replaced with another as quickly as he left. The tent's entrance flap was a flurry of men coming and going. I had no idea how many men fucked me anally or how many cummed on me or in my mouth. I held so many cocks today. My labia and clitoral hood were touched, poked and rubbed so many times. It felt like every inch of my body had been covered in cum, either directly or smeared with their hands. The tent stank of nothing but cum and male sweat.

After what felt like hours, the last of the men were sent off from the tent. I used the time for a breather. My mouth ached from sucking so much, and my throat had cum stuck in it, which I was struggling to swallow. My anus felt like it was still open, dribbling whatever lubricant had been deposited inside. My labia were even sore from all the attention they had received. Even my hands were aching from wanking. It was a bukkake frenzy. I remembered several times I had experienced mini orgasms, ones caused more by the situation than by pleasure. But these orgasms weren’t satisfying in any way.

I was still fucking horny and desperate to be fucked hard vaginally. I desperately wanted someone to touch, finger or fuck me vaginally. This session had me on the edge the entire time.

Finally, the man who had initially secured me returned and untied my restraints. He helped me to my feet, my knees stiff from kneeling for so long.

“Wait!” he said.

Some of the cum covering me had already begun to dry; it felt horrible. The fresher stuff was becoming clear and thin, sliding down my body. There was no mirror here, and I must’ve looked a total wreck. Sandflies were coming into the tent to feast on me. The smell of cum permeated every cubic inch of the tent.

When the man returned, he handed me a black outfit. It was a mid-length black singlet with curved cutouts along the hem, revealing my entire thighs from the hip. Additional vertical slits, front and back, in the centre were long enough to expose the chastity belt when I walked. Wearing this outfit in public might have been borderline illegal, but perhaps the chastity belt would suffice to pass the test.

“Time for you to leave. You must walk along the beach to the other carpark, then back to Master Allan’s house. He will be waiting for you. You must not go into the ocean,” he instructed.

I picked up my sandals and headed out onto the beach. Slowly, along the beach near the water's edge, I put as much distance as possible between the sunbathing people and me. As I walked, I noticed several people smiling, almost to the point of chuckling. Did some of the cum covering me belong to them, or did I just look that bad? I felt it.

The walk to Master Allan’s house from this direction would take me at least half an hour. The fresh cum created wet patches through the fabric, making it cling to me. My hair was a total mess, with dried cum sticking some hairs together. It was covering my face, making me constantly shoo the flies away. As I walked, I could feel lubricant leaking from my anus and sliding down through the chastity belt to my inner thighs.

People kept staring at me. The humiliation quickly overrode the arousal. I wondered whether they knew what I had been doing all afternoon. How many of these women's husbands had unloaded their ejaculate on me? I stood out on the nudist part of the beach because I was dressed in black and wearing a collar.

The non-nude section of the beach was quite busy with families. As I walked along the end of the beach, many eyes were on me. I wondered what was going through their minds. I imagined how bad I must’ve smelled as I walked past them. They would be horrified if they knew what had just happened to me, and it was totally consensual, too.

Walking through the streets to my master’s house, I took a dirt track for part of the way and a road for the rest. Several men and a lady on bikes were riding towards me along the track. I stepped off the track and into the grass to let them all pass.

The last cyclist, a man, stopped, turned around and rode back to me. “Hi, are you from around here?” he asked.

“Ahh, yes and no. I am heading off to visit a friend who lives a few streets away, but I live in the next suburb along,” I replied. His eyes roved over my outfit, which, to an old guy like him, would have thrilled him or at least given him a hard-on.

 “I thought so,” he said. Then he continued, “I ride this track several times a day, and I’ve never seen you here before. Hopefully, we might bump into each other again.”

“Yep, hopefully we meet again,” I replied.

“Take care and have a great day,” he said. “You too,” I said, then started walking up the track.

The dirt path emerged onto a street. I walked along the road, as there were no footpaths. At least thirty to forty vehicles passed me. Each driver and passenger stared at me as if I were from another planet. It was a very humiliating experience. Master Allan had said over the phone that I would be humiliated. I must say, he was one hundred per cent correct.

By the time I reached his driveway, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I felt like a cheap slut, like some back-alley whore. The more people who saw me in this predicament, the more embarrassed I felt; each one seemed to be judging me. The walk home in public was the most humiliating part of the day.

Finally, I arrived at the front door of Master Allan’s house. I rang the bell and nervously waited. The moment he opened the door, I stepped forward, threw my arms around him, and burst into tears before saying a word.