Literotic asexstories – Mistress Doreen Ch. 09 by frankjohnson2448,frankjohnson2448
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Two weeks after Doreen had tamed our HOA manager was my birthday – my first as Doreen’s husband and my first not celebrated with my wife, family and friends. I had been searching for a woman who would indulge my female domination fantasies in a way my wife, Jane, never did. I found Doreen.
It had been only six months earlier when I met her, but in that time she had seduced me – albeit willingly – into being her cuckolded slave husband – rejecting and abandoning my wife, family and friends, all to love and serve Doreen and her insatiable, dark, perverse sexuality.
As I drove home from work, I reflected on all I had sacrificed to serve Doreen. For the first time in decades my birthday would come and go without Jane, my family and friends. Doreen had not mentioned it that morning, so I assumed she was unaware of the day, or maybe worse, thought it not worth celebrating. I was not in the best of moods when I parked my car and slid open the door to our double wide manufactured home.
As I entered, I saw Doreen dressed in baggy shorts and non descript t-shirt standing, hand on hip, awaiting me.
“Close and lock the door, pull the blinds and prepare yourself,” she said in an offhanded manner.
As she had trained me, I instantly assuming my role as her slave. My preparation included dropping to the floor, crawling to Doreen’s heavy wooden box, removing my clothes and shoes, placing them neatly inside, extracting my wife’s toys of the moment – which consisted this day of a heavy thick black leather collar, her black and white braided leather leash which doubled as a small but painful whip, and a small brass lock.
Also as I had been taught, I awkwardly crawled with this load to the floor beside my wife. She stared down at me and said, “Follow me.”
I did, following on my hands and knees with my load as she walked unhurriedly into our second bedroom, converted over the past six months by Doreen – with my help – into a sadomasochistic sexual torture chamber, replete with St Andrews’ cross, queening chair, ropes, pulleys, chains, whips, leather cuffs, metal manacles, paddles, riding crops, canes and numerous drawers containing all manner of ointments, lotions, medical concoctions and devices. It included an oversized bed to sate my wife’s deviant sexual appetite. The room was soundproof. The door was lockable – inside and out – opened only by the small brass key forever hanging in Doreen’s deep delectable cleavage on a gold chain.
It was heaven and it was hell!
Doreen walked over to the red leather padded St Andrew’s cross and indicated that I should leave her ‘things’ on the counter and mount it, facing outward.
I did.
Wordlessly, I raised my hands above my head and allowed Doreen to tightly bind my wrists to the solid black painted wood frame with thick, generously padded black leather cuffs. She nodded and I spread my legs, my feet on the floor, allowing her to similarly bind my ankles. She then cinched my outstretched arms and legs to the rigid wooden posts with bands of black leather. Two thick black leather bands pinned my chest and pelvis to the cross.
I could move my head, my fingers and my toes – but I was otherwise immobilized and totally exposed to Doreen’s whims.
No words had been spoken.
Doreen looked at me admiring her handiwork.
She picked the slave collar and lock from the counter and placed the full black leather collar tightly around my neck. I heard the ‘click’ as she secured it in place with the small brass lock.
I couldn’t restrain myself any longer and asked, “Doreen, what…”
My wife cut me off immediately with a hard slap to my face. She covered my mouth with her large, strong hand and said, “You must learn patience. You must learn to accept anything and everything your Mistress lavishes on you with gratitude and love. I have been too easy on you, Frank. But that will change today.”
Doreen said this last with a menacing gleam in her eye. She reached into an adjacent drawer and pulled out a black blindfold. She attached it firmly over my eyes, plunging me into blackness. I listened intently as he left the room and closed the door.
She left me in the dark, alone, confused, tightly pinioned to her cross – and sexually aroused!
My 5″ penis was enlarging even in the mysterious, dark absence of my 75 year old dominant mistress wife. We both knew I could not resist her. Doreen had relentlessly seduced and trained me into fulfilling her deviant, dark pleasures, compelling me to surrender each time to her lascivious beauty and iron will. I had accepted humiliation and pain by her hands and at her feet in exchange for the sexual pleasure only she could provide. And I loved her for it. Now she clearly had prepared a further session of my submission for our mutual pleasure. I was now to the point that literally anything Doreen did or said produced a sexual response from me. This was no exception.
My wife was a master manipulator whom I could never deny. But this silent, bound, dark scenario was new and disturbing.
I couldn’t tell how long I waited. I listened intently. Finally, I heard the door open and heard the hushed voices of TWO women! The door closed.
This was also new! Doreen had never shared our sexual escapades with anyone before. The second hushed voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Who was this intruder into the most secret and sacred aspects of our intimate life. And why would my wife invite her?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“I’ll just the lower the lights a bit,” Doreen said in her low calm contralto voice to the third, unknown to me, member of our group. “And light some candles,” she continued.
“Let me help you,” answered the second woman in a rich, soprano voice which I now instantly recognized.
My former wife, Jane!
I heard the clicking of high heels on the dungeon’s hardwood floors approach me. From my left I felt a hand pull the blindfold from my eyes.
“Happy Birthday!” Doreen and Jane sang out triumphantly in unison as my eyes blinked open to behold two voluptuous, mature women – naked except for 4″ spiked high heels and identical gold chains holding a single brass key hanging between their massive breasts – my current and former wives! They each held a bottle of champagne, partially consumed and two fluted glasses containing some of the bubbly golden liquid. I noted there was no glass for me.
They shared only two physical characteristics: bra size (42 G) and weight (160 pounds).
Doreen’s 160 pounds were spread over a 5’10” frame, still toned at 75 years of age from years of hard physical labor on her family’s farm in Manitoba. She reveled in her physicality with biking, walking, swimming and – of course – sex. Her salt and pepper hair was cut short. Her grey green eyes flashed with excitement that was undiminished by the years. Those years had lined her beautiful, expressive face. Her lips were full. Her skin smooth and deeply tanned. Her makeup subdued. Her finger and toe nails were painted bright red to match her stiletto heels.
Jane’s 160 pounds were packed into 5’3″ of abundant, smooth, soft curves. Eight years younger than Doreen, her cute face showed the first signs of crows feet about her large brown eyes. Her hair was platinum blond – a shade maintained by monthly visits to her hair stylist – and hung in soft waves to her shoulder. She avoided physical activity, except sex, whenever possible, leaving her soft white skin deeply alluring nonetheless. Her makeup was more dramatic than Doreen’s, expertly applied. There was nothing ‘hard’ about her appearance, except the steely gaze from her clear brown eyes. Her finger and toe nails were painted deep black to match her stiletto heels. Her makeup, nails, heels and especially her eyes gave her a somewhat menacing appearance – a look I had never seen in over forty years of our marriage.
The look on my face clearly betrayed my shock and incomprehension at the scene before me. Both women laughed heartily at the strictly bound, dumbfounded man they at different times had both called husband.
I could feel my cheeks turn crimson as Jane stared contemptuously at me upon the cross. Doreen had a satisfied smile on her lovely, aged face as I struggled to understand my situation.
She nodded her head to Jane who advanced on my right and took my hardening cock in her soft small hand. Jane began to spread the drops of emerging precum along its short length causing me to moan in pleasure even as she deepened my humiliation.
Doreen moved closer on my left and encompassed my entire scrotal sac in her strong, large, bony left hand and squeezed hard.
“Ouch!” I yelped in surprise at the pain.
“His cock grew harder!” Jane exclaimed in derision and delight as she turned to Doreen.
Doreen, ignoring me, looked directly into Jane’s eyes and instructed, “You see when a man is your sex slave anything – and I mean ANYTHING! – you do to him elicits a pleasurable sexual response in him. He can’t help it. He craves it beyond hope or reason. Once the cycle is established, every instance deepens the mental and emotional bond until he can deny you nothing. He will beg you for the pain and humiliation you want to inflict!”
From my perch on Doreen’s cross I could see the excitement and intensity in Jane’s eyes.
“May I try?” Jane asked Doreen humbly.
“Of course,” Doreen smiled as she released my swollen sac from her hand.
Jane grabbed it with her smaller, soft left hand leaving me with the hope that she could not produce the same level of pain as Doreen’s large bony hand had done.
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