It was midday, and I stood nervously outside Mistress Inga’s door. This was my first time with a mistress, and my heart raced as I hesitated, finger raised to knock. Taking a deep breath, I finally rapped on the wood. The door swung open, revealing a striking woman dressed in a loose white shirt and a black skirt, barefoot. Her sharp voice broke the silence: "You have fifteen seconds to come in, or I shut the door."
I hurried inside, trying to steady my shaking legs. "First door on the right," she instructed as she walked away. I found the room quickly—a bed, ropes hanging from the ceiling, and a table cluttered with mysterious equipment. Lost in thought, I jumped when the door slammed behind me. Then, her voice appeared right behind me: "Strip."
With hands trembling, I peeled off my clothes, neatly folding them on a chair. "Good, first test passed—you’re neat," she said, a flicker of warmth in her firm tone. Turning, I saw her holding rope. "Stand still, arms down," she ordered. Slowly, she wrapped rope around me, circling my nipples but leaving them tenderly exposed. My body betrayed me—I was already hard, even though no touch had been intimate yet.
She continued, tying a thinner rope around my cock and balls, leaving only the tip free. Small clips snapped onto my nipples, sharp pain mixing with electric pleasure. I whimpered softly, and she smiled, delighted by my reaction. Then, a blindfold was tied over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. I was led backwards to the bed until she paused. "Wait, I forgot something," she murmured. Suddenly, something lubed pressed into me, spreading slowly before slipping inside.
She spun me around, spreading my legs and tying them to the bedposts. The door clicked shut again, leaving silence to settle. Time felt like it stretched endlessly. Then, soft footsteps returned. Mistress Inga removed the clip from my left nipple and began to lick and suck, biting gently between licks. "I love the taste of sore nipples," she whispered, moving to the other side and repeating the process, swapping clips, teasing, and tormenting with expert skill.
Finally, she removed the last clips. Relief flooded me, but she didn’t stop—her mouth kept worshipping my nipples until I exploded, warm release pooling on my stomach. She lifted my blindfold, smiling brightly. "You’re a keeper. I’m going to have so much fun with you," she said softly.
It was a week after this that I got a text, “come now.” I was at work, so text back explaining this to her. The reply was quick and blunt, “come now or never again”. I packed up my tools and drove to her place. Mistress Inga opened the door, directing me to her play room. A sharp command exploded from her lip’s “strip”. I quickly obeyed and was promptly directed to lean on the bed face down.
The whole neighbourhood would have heard the scream if it was not for the bed muffling the sound of my voice, my arse felt three wacks from her cane, by this time tears were running down my face. When she had finished, I was instructed to stand up and upon seeing my tears she approached me and started to lick them, “nice love a good salty tear”. She starts rubbing my nipples and then lowers her lips to my nipples, licking and sucking tenderly while at the same time she starts caressing my cock, immediately putting me into a trance. Not sure where she found the strength or was it the firm grip on my cock and balls, nevertheless I was flipped onto the bed.
She climbs onto the bed she telling me she will have a surprise for me, as these words come out of her mouth, she is sliding her pussy up and down my stomach. “You are going to love what is coming next.” Moving toward my face she chuckles and tells me “I have been saving this for a week,” and promptly plants her pussy on my mouth. The taste is horrendous, it is a mixture of my cum and stale urine. Struggling to swallow, I feel a riding crop land on my cock, and with a stern voice she demands I lick her clean and make her cum. Not wanting to feel the crop again, I lick and swallow and soon the taste is replaced with more liquid as her body starts to shudder.
It seems like ages before she climbs off my face and as she does, I start to breath fresh air. I can hear rumbling through her toy box and as it goes quiet, Mistress Inga returns to the bed. Her hands slowly caress my cock and then moves to my arse. Removing the object from my arse she inserts two fingers, then three. With a calm, seductive type voice, she tells me it is time for my training as her bitch. It is then I realise she is wearing a life-size strapon and is pushing it into my arsehole.
The doorbell rang just as Mistress Inga was lining up the tip of her strapon with my trembling entrance. Her fingers froze inside me, her dark eyes flicking toward the sound with annoyance. "Stay," she ordered, withdrawing her fingers and sliding off the bed with predatory grace. I gasped at the sudden emptiness, my body still throbbing from her earlier attentions.
Through the cracked door, I heard a throaty laugh—lower than Inga’s, richer—followed by the clack of heels on hardwood. "You started without me?" The new voice dripped with mock offense.
Inga’s reply was clipped: "He was late." A pause. Then, softer: "You’re wearing the boots I like."
The door swung open fully, revealing a second woman. Taller than Inga, with wild auburn curls and a black leather corset that made her waist impossibly narrow. Thigh-high stiletto boots gleamed under the dim light. She surveyed me with half-lidded eyes, her red lips curling. "Oh, this one’s pretty," she purred, stepping forward. Her gloved hand gripped my chin, tilting my face up. "Tears still wet. Good."
Mistress Inga folded her arms. "Mistress Selene, meet your new toy. He’s... responsive."
Mistress Selene’s thumb brushed my lower lip, smearing leftover traces of Inga’s climax. "Mmm. I can taste you on him." Her other hand trailed down my chest, nails scraping lightly over my oversensitive nipples. I shuddered.
"You’ll take direction from both of us now," Inga said, reclaiming her place beside me. She pressed the head of the strapon back against me, her breath hot on my neck.
Mistress Selene sank onto the edge of the bed, spreading her legs. The scent of leather and her arousal filled the air. "First," she murmured, tapping her boot, "clean these. Then we’ll see if you can handle two mistresses at once."
Mistress Inga pushed forward as I bent, stretching me with relentless precision. Mistress Selene’s boot pressed against my tongue, salty from sweat and the faint chemical tang of polished leather. Above me, their voices wove together—Mistress Inga’s sharp commands, Mistress Selene’s velvet taunts—as my world narrowed to sensation: the burn of penetration, the ache in my jaw, the hot pulse of submission.
Mistress Selene abruptly yanked my hair back, forcing me to meet her gaze. "Look at you," she chuckled, her green eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Already so eager to please. I think we'll keep you." Her grip tightened, nails biting into my scalp as Mistress Inga's hips snapped forward, burying the strapon to the hilt. My choked gasp only made Selene's grin widen. "Now, sweet thing," Mistress Selene murmured, leaning down until her lips brushed my ear, "here's how this works. You take what Inga gives you—every inch, every thrust—while I decide how much air you get." Her fingers traced my throat, lingering over my pulse. "Nod if you understand." I nodded frantically, my body already thrumming with terrified anticipation.
Mistress Selene's hand clamped over my nose and mouth, cutting off my air just as Mistress Inga began a ruthless pace. The dual assault sent sparks behind my eyelids—pressure building, worlds narrowing to the creak of the bed, the slick sounds of penetration, Mistress Selene's humming approval. When black spots danced in my vision, Mistress Selene released me with a laugh. "Breathe," she commanded, and I sucked in air like a drowning man. Inga didn't pause, her rhythm unrelenting as she fucked me into the mattress.
Mistress Selene straddled my thighs, her corset creaking as she bent to fasten clamps to my already abused nipples. "Better," she purred, twisting them lightly. "Now, let's see if you can come untouched while she ruins you." The contradiction was exquisite— Mistress Inga's punishing thrusts, Selene's calculated torment—until my back arched violently, a broken cry tearing from my throat as I spilled untouched between Mistress Selene's thighs. Mistress Inga finally stilled, panting, while Mistress Selene licked her fingers clean with deliberate slowness. "Oh yes," she sighed, tapping my flushed cheek. "We're definitely keeping you."
To Be Continued
