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Dinner at the Athelstan part 4

The final part of this stage of the story
Dinner at the Athelstan Part 4


To see Judith and Sam sitting on that couch together would, had I been in different circumstances, have been one of the horniest sights I have ever witnessed. I’ve already described Judith’s stunning dress and the fact that she was sitting with that prosthesis still poking out from the folds of her dress was itself enough to set the pulse racing. To see Sam’s hand closed around it as they kissed and to watch Judith’s hand disappear under Sam’s skirt was delicious but all the while I knew they were keeping me in a state of nervous anticipation of the outcome of my offence of orgasming without permission. The fact that this had been their clear intention from the start did nothing to reduce my concerns.

Their kiss ended.

Sam smiled at me and though I remained worried, it was her real smile, the one that says I love you, the smile she gives me when we meet unexpectedly or when I do something that gives her pleasure. She is incredibly sensitive to my needs and moods. When I offered myself to her, even though she knew full well how I earn my living, she had promised to care for me, to protect me and love me. She had never let me down.

Sam likes ceremony.

She asked me, some time ago if I would accept her collar. By the time she did this I was in no doubt what it meant: total obedience. There would be no compromise and failure on my part would be dealt with severely. I think I mentioned that although she allowed, rather liked in fact, me to fuck Dee who was single and a close friend, if I ever did so without her prior knowledge and approval she had her whip waiting. Believe me, she knows exactly how to use it. She never even breaks into a sweat. The merest flick of her wrist and the bastard’s little sting carves into me. She has deadly accuracy; years, she says, of police firearms training although I think it is simply that she has the eye of a sportswoman. Some time ago, when she first introduced me to that dreaded implement, she had decided to demonstrate that although it might be painful, sometimes exceedingly so, she always knew precisely what she was doing. She told me to take off all my clothes and lie on the bed with my feet in the air, hands holding my knees. This was not a position I was inexperienced in. In my line of work it is often required! She spent a few minutes doing something rather delicious with her tongue and then pushed a long, slender candle into my puss. She lit the candle. She stood back and took the whip in her hand. She flicked her wrist and although I felt nothing, the flame was extinguished. She repeated this at least a dozen times to prove it was no fluke. She then told me to stand up. I did so and she came close to me, kissed my mouth and, with a lipstick, drew a small circle on my right hip. The next flick of her wrist brought that scorpion-like sting to exactly the point she had marked.

I said she likes ceremony. The day she gave me her collar was unreal. We had been an item for well over 2 years. On this day she had chosen clothes for me: rubber pants with 2 dildos inside which represented her ownership of my sex, naturally stockings and suspenders (she is a fetishist in that department as I have become too) and a long dark blue satin skirt and a white silk blouse. As far as anyone who did not know could see we were a normal pair of friends out for an evening together. They would have been totally unaware, unlike me, that I was full and that before we had gone out to dinner she had marked each of my thighs with a single sting of her cane (her other close friend) just where the lace tops of my stockings would rub on it the most. She had also attached a strap around each thigh above my stockings and a chain linked them, just short enough to prevent me from walking entirely normally. So, nothing unusual about that!

She got me a little drunk and had a ball. I did too when we got home giggling and super-aroused to fuck ourselves senseless into the small hours.

Oh, you’re wondering about the collar? For outdoor use that evening it was a long silver chain which went tight around my neck, through itself then down between my breasts over my tummy and was secured on my pussy with a clamp.

‘Not slavery,’ she had said, ‘but the chains of love.’ And so they were and so they remain.

I digress. As I said, their kiss ended and Judith indicated I should come to her. You may recall she liked a puss-kiss on her thigh and she cast her dress further aside and tapped her thigh indicating I should sit on it which I did. She reached under my hair to undo and release the gag.

‘Messy girl.’ She said as she held it in her hand.

‘It’s a weakness,’ smiled Sam who reached across to release the second clamp which would have made me scream had she not simultaneously covered my mouth tightly. The two women then began to discuss my punishment almost as if I were not there. I will not bore you with the details of their debate. It was clearly designed to raise my terror and to extend their pleasure in it. Let me tell you merely what actually happened.

First, Judith went to the toilet leaving me and Sam alone. Sam kissed me, held and said how proud she was of me. She also took my hand and guided it to her pussy so I should appreciate how aroused she was. Her clit, nothing like Judith’s in terms of size was nonetheless apparent and I stroked it as I knew she loved and she licked drool and tears from my face. I know many people simply cannot understand the D/s life but trust me it is love like any other although it is perhaps more intense involving total devotion and commitment.

Judith returned. She looked fresh and clean and smelled of lemon. I was led into the bedroom and Judith sat on the bed. Sam positioned me on all fours then proceeded to tie a black silk scarf around my eyes before guiding me to Judith’s pussy. The cuffs at my wrists were linked behind my back and secured. A spreader (God alone knows where that came from) was affixed to the ankle cuffs.

Sam whispered in my ear, ‘No matter what happens, concentrate on her and do not, under any circumstances, stop.’ I got to work, using my tongue to pleasure Judith and loving the sounds which were drawn from her by my dexterity. I had no idea what else was happening and my mind was full of imaginings of them touching and kissing. Judith’s hands were over my ears as she pulled me tight into herself and my tongue was buried in her core.

Perhaps because of Judith’s hands I heard no ‘swish’ before the stinging kiss of the cane seared into the flesh of my arse. Before I could scream a second stroke followed and now I did cry out but into the wet warmth that was Judith’s pussy. Respite followed as Sam’s hand caressed me, her fingers invaded me and my cries of pain were reduced to whimpers into Judith,.whose clit was now big enough for me to suck really well which I did for what seemed like a long, long time. There followed two more strokes of that wicked cane. I think I was spared more because on the second of these Judith came in a scream of obscenities. Her hips lifted and her bladder emptied. I caught what I could.

Like the previous occasion, Judith wanted me to lie in her lap and suckle her large nipples. It was a strange feeling to be held like a child at the breast while she stroked my face. She made no apology she merely stroked me and fed me her teat. Sam was straddling Judith’s thigh and kissing her and, with a wonderful groan of pleasure, she brought herself off.

It was almost 3 in the morning when we finally dressed to leave. They had admired Sam’s handiwork. Apparently her four, quite vicious cane strokes had formed a ‘delectable’ pattern on my arse. I cannot tell you how delighted I was! We had taken wine. Judith gave Sam another envelope and, of course, her feeldoe. In return, Sam gave Judith the plug from my arse. I felt empty when it was, with Sam’s naturally ceremonious nature, removed and placed on a cushion to be handed over.

Judith promised to call next time she was in London.

We drove home.

‘Do you realise I’ve never seen anyone fuck you before. You’re awesome.’

‘Do you realise you have never caned me in front of anyone before? You’re awesome.’ We looked at each other. ‘Also you have never given me less than six strokes before.’

‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘That was business not pleasure.’ I could not tell in the light of the street lamps if she was smiling. She handed me a piece of paper. It had the words ‘target for retirement’ and ‘total to date’ written on it. The numbers beside each were the same. I threw my arms around her neck and to avoid an accident she pulled into the side of the road where she kissed me with enormous passion. We drank champagne that night.


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