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nothing on is always good If you had my as your sex slave for…

Thursday, July 6th, 2017

Pic 3: Nothing? badasianwife:

If you had my as your sex slave for the weekend at your secluded cabin, what should I wear?

nothing on is always good

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    WEEKEND SLAVE

    Thursday, December 3rd, 2015

    Standing five and a half feet tall, with a trim and shapely body, Gina makes a striking appearance. Her long hair is straight and brown. Her green eyes are shaped like a cat’s. Gina is an assistant editor for a young women’s fashion magazine. She was divorced a little more than a year ago at the age of thirty-two. For the past several months, she has been seeing Frank, a radio disk jockey, on a steady basis.

    My ex … husband and I were married when we were in our early twenties and hung together for almost ten years. It was awful. Thank God we didn’t have any children; that would have made the divorce even messier than it was. There were lots of problems in our marriage, but sex was probably the worst of them. Lovemaking was never high on my ex’ s list of priorities. If I learned anything from my marriage, it was that life held no hope for sexual fulfillment. The closest I ever came to satisfaction was when I masturbated, which I did occasionally, but always with a great sense of shame and guilt. Actually, until I met Frank, I didn’t discover that my sexual appetites could be nourished. Frank is four years older than I am and went through a divorce just about the same time I did. When we met, I guess we were both hungry for companionship. Frank was mentioned in a story I was editing about radio personalities. When I called him to verify some facts, he invited me to lunch. I was sexually attracted to him as soon as he sat down across the table from me. He was dark and mysterious-looking, with a compact body and very muscular hands. There was something in his voice that made it soothing and exciting at the same time.

    Apparently, he was attracted to me too, ·because before lunch was over, he invited me to have dinner with him that same evening. Cautiously, I accepted. I was lonely, but after the horrible experience I had recently been through, I was unwilling to get involved in anything like a relationship. We dined at a nice restaurant and shared a bottle of Beaujolais. I found Frank witty and entertaining. But when he suggested a nightcap at his apartment, I made up an excuse about having to get home early. Frank laughed. “Let’s face it,” he said. “I’m trying to get you into bed, and you’re turning me down.” I was flustered, but he laughed again. “I’m just being Frank,” he said. “How about dinner tomorrow?”

    We went out twice more that first week and three times the next. Each time we did, Frank invited me to his bed, and I repeated my refusal. It may sound strange in this day and age, but I had slept with only one man. I was curious about how it would be with Frank, but I was convinced that all men were like my ex-husband, incapable of understanding a woman’s sexual needs. After our tenth or eleventh date, my curiosity got the better of me. I agreed to accompany Frank to his place, but deep down I was expecting disappointment.

    Frank surprised me. He was considerate and thorough. He kissed and caressed me until I was completely aroused. Then, slowly and artfully, he undressed me. Postponing the fulfillment of his own needs, he attended to mine. His fingers found my most sensitive spots. His lips nibbled at all the right places. By the time he entered me, I was only a moment away from orgasm. After I came, he continued thrusting inside me until I was ready again. This time, he climaxed with me. When it was over, we lay together in silence, our arms and legs intertwined. I never knew that sex could be so good. After that night, Frank and I saw each other regularly. Neither of us was ready to get involved in any kind of deep commitment, but I didn’t go out with anyone else, and neither did he. We had dinner together almost every night. Afterward we made love, either in his place or mine. We occasionally spent the whole night together, but most of the time we parted, sleeping separately in our own apartments.

    Frank was a wonderful lover. Sex wasn’t just the ending to an evening out. He made it part of everything we did. Sometimes he would call me at work and whisper hoarsely about some fantasy that he was having. Other times he would describe things we did the night before, using that frenetic radio voice he usually reserved for announcing hits on his show. He even found a way to turn sporting events into sex games. We’re both ardent fans and we spend lots of evenings together watching sports on Frank’s big-screen TV. Sometimes we make bets with erotic payoffs. If the shooter makes the basket, I have to give Frank a blowjob. If the batter strikes out, Frank has to go down on me for fifteen minutes without stopping. That sort of thing. Usually, we wait till the game is over before the winner gets to collect. By then the anticipation builds to heat up the session that follows. In fact, one of those bets led to the best sex I ever had.

    It was a boxing match-a ·championship bout. The challenger was about fifteen years older than the champ, and I predicted that the champ would knock him out within the first three rounds. Frank insisted that the fight would go the limit and that the challenger would win it by a decision. I was so sure he was wrong that I was prepared to bet the farm. In a flash of inspiration, Frank proposed the heaviest stakes ever. “A weekend,” he said. “The loser has tq be the winner’s sex slave for an entire weekend.” “Okay,” I said smugly. “You’ll have to do everything I say from the time work ends Friday until midnight Sunday night.” Frank laughed. “It’s going to be the other way around, I assure you,” he said. “But let’s make sure we have this straight. You’re betting on the champ, and I’m picking the challenger. The winner will be master for the whole weekend. The loser is the slave and has to do everything the winner says.” ”Agreed,” I answered, certain of victory.

    The match ended just as Frank said it would. He sat there grinning, his mind obviously working on the things he was planning to make me do. The idea of being his sex slave rather appealed to me. I found myself becoming aroused anticipating the erotic weekend that lay ahead. We didn’t see each other on Thursday because Frank had to work late at the station. On Friday, he called me at least fifteen times to remind me of my enslavement. The last call came just a couple of minutes before five as I was preparing to leave my office. He phoned to say authoritatively that I was to be at his apartment by six, ready to serve him. In a seductive voice, I told him that I was looking forward to it. I was imagining a sort of romantic submission in which he put little silver chains on my ankles and made me wear a studded collar while I served him dinner in bed. Then he would make passionate love to me, forcing me to have one orgasm after another.

    Frank had a different kind of slavery in mind. When I entered his apartment, he was sitting in an easy chair like a king on a throne. I started toward him for a hello kiss when, with a curt gesture of his hand, he commanded me to stop. “Right there, slave,” he said. “Strip!” I felt myself tingling all over. His voice was so harsh, his tone so dominant. He sounded so impersonal, ordering me to remove my clothes while he just sat and watched. I trembled with excitement and reached back to unzip my dress. “Do it slowly,” he commanded. “Tum around so I can watch the zipper come down.” The idea that he would enjoy something as simple as that aroused me tremendously. It made me feel sexy and desirable. I knew that I was in for an evening of erotic bliss. Facing away from him, I obeyed, unzipping as gradually as I could. I tried to picture the black lace of my bra and panties coming slowly into view. When I was ready to step out of the dress, he barked, “Now face me, slave girl. I want to see your tits.”

    The brutal tone of his command inflamed me. As I turned, I lowered the dress from my shoulders. When I looked at him, I saw that his pants were open. He had his cock in his hand and was stroking it slowly while he stared at me. Stepping out of the dress, I tossed it aside and awaited his pleasure. “Take off the bra,” he said. “And rub your nipples.” Every word excited me. Watching me wriggle out of my bra, he continued fondling his hard .. on. My nipples, usually pink, were turning bright rosy red in my excitement. I had never performed this way before, not even in fantasy. Jolts of pleasure passed through me as I petted my breasts and twisted my nipples for his amusement. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter under his hungry gaze. . “Now the panties,” he commanded. “Take them off so I can see your pussy.”

    I found myself feeling a strange kind of delicious embarrassment. He had seen me naked many times, but this was different. I felt like a slave standing on· the auction block for inspection by my master. Frank licked his lips greedily as I reached for the waistband to draw the delicate lace over my thighs. Stepping out of it, I stood before him totally nude. ”Now rub your pussy,” he instructed. ”Put your fingers in it and hold yourself open so I can see.” He leaned forward, staring intently at my slit. “Move closer, slave girl,” he added. “I want a good look.” I took two steps toward him and began rubbing my juices all over the pouting lips of my sex. I was feeling totally stimulated, absorbed in my erotic performance and in his erotic ·commands. My love button was hard and swollen. I hoped that he could see it peeking through. I pictured his tongue on it. I couldn’t wait. “Now rub your clit for me,” he said. “And rub it good.” I started to comply, running my fingertips lightly in little circles around the sensitive nubbin. I hadn’t masturbated since Frank and I got together; it didn’t seem legitimate. But letting him watch me do it was different. It felt wonderful. I loved having his eyes on me while my fingers found my centers of pleasure.

    “That will have to be enough,” he said suddenly. “And I’m afraid it’s all you’re going to get until the weekend’s over, my slave.” I was shocked. “You’re kidding,” I said. “Aren’t you?” He reached out to hand me something. “Not kidding at all,” he answered. “Now put this on.” I never· knew such a thing existed. It was a kind of corset made of black leather. The crotch was closed by a thick leather flap sewn onto the back and fastened in the front with a stout-looking brass lock. “What is this?” I asked, incredulous. “A chastity belt?” “Exactly,” he answered. “To make sure the slave girl’s pussy isn’t touched all weekend. Now put it on and come here.”

    I struggled into the medieval garment and stood in front of him. He inspected it carefully, yanking on the lock to make sure it was properly closed. Leaning back in his chair he said, “Now, give me a handjob.” His cock was standing straight up through his open fly. I waited a moment, thinking that he would. want to remove his clothes, but he sat there regally. Realizing that he expected me to service him just the way he was, I dropped to my knees before him. Taking his erect penis in my hand, I felt a thrill run through my body. I know it sounds weird, but the idea of being his sex object and doing whatever I was told was marvelously arousing. I stroked him obediently, feeling his sex muscle swell against my fingers. Within moments, his come was spurting into the air. It was exciting to see him get off so fast. “Very good,” he said. “Now suck me till I get hard again.” Leaning over his lap, I felt the leather crotch-flap pull tight against my vagina. Every movement of my body caused it to constrict, erotically stimulating my sensitive membranes. I mouthed his flaccid penis while the heat built up inside me. The salty taste turned me on even more.

    I licked him hungrily, certain that he would reward me with intercourse when I got him fully erect. It didn’t take long for his cock to become turgid within the warmth of my mouth. When I felt it throbbing to full capacity, I drew back and touched the head lightly with the tip of my tongue. · “Don’t you want to unlock this now?” I whispered. “I’d love to feel you in me.” “No way,” he said. “You’re my slave. Finish me with your mouth.” Still believing that the evening would end with his hardness inside me, I tongued him to climax. “I think I’ll have you draw my bath now,” he said when his orgasm ended. “Then you can bathe me, and maybe I’ll even let you get me off again, in the tub.”

    I was beginning to think he was serious about not touching my pussy all weekend. By the time his bath was finished, I knew it was so. He made me lather his cock and balls with hot water and soap and rub him with slippery foam until he came again. Throughout the weekend, I gave him orgasm after orgasm. I used every possible way that he or I could imagine, so long as my pussy wasn’t involved. I played with his ass and sucked his cock. I stroked him with my fingers and with the soles of my feet. I held his hard-0n between my tits and moved up and down until his hot sperm shot into my cleavage. I tickled his entire body with my long hair and blew hot breath on his genitals. I kissed his lips· and his nipples while I jerked him off. He never so much as touched me. I was his slave entirely. He made me wear the chastity belt all the time, even when we were sleeping. He unlocked it when I needed to use the bathroom, only to refasten it as soon as I was finished. The leather flap across my pussy stimulated me almost to the point of orgasm and kept me hanging there interminably. My arousal peaked and remained at the summit for hours at a time.

    The sight of his swollen cock spurting into the air or onto my breasts and thighs brought me trembling to the brink of the abyss. The things I did to his body made my insides tingle with erotic hunger. Each moment took me higher, each sub.missive act further inflaming my passions. Sometimes he let me think that he might be merciful and permit me to have a climax. Just a little ·one to tide me over. Once he even put the key in the lock on my chastity belt, sadistically changing his mind at the last minute. He teased and tantalized me, asking if I’d like to get fucked. I wanted to scream, “Yes, yes, yes. Please fuck me. Please oh please oh please.” But I soon learned that he was immovable.

    By Sunday evening, I was watching the clock and counting the hours. Although my erotic appetite was overwhelming, I actually enjoyed my role as obedient slave. I had never been in so intense a state of sexual excitement for so long a period of time. For the past forty-eight hours, I’d been having sex in one form or another almost continuously. If I had been free to climax, it would have been over a long time ago. Instead, the sustained excitement was like an endless orgasm. Frank seemed to understand this and had a way of increasing my stimulation each time he came. At ten P.M., Frank said, “You’ve been such a good slave that I think I’m going to reward you.” When he fitted the key into the lock on my chastity belt, I thought he was taunting me again. But this time, he turned it and opened the lock. Pulling the flap open, he freed my hungry sex from its constricting prison. The fresh air bathed my moist membranes, caressing me like a lover’s kiss. Uttering a strangled groan, Frank fell on me, pressing his face against the damp cushion of hair that surrounded my pussy. He began kissing and licking me, his lips and tongue moving furiously up and down the length of my slit. He had been as hungry for my sex as I was for his. The moment the tip of his tongue found the button of my clit, I started to come. The sexual energy that had been building in me demanded release. My erotic hunger cried out as I gorged myself on the movements of his mouth.

    My first orgasm was still bursting from my womb when I felt him carrying me toward my second. The waves of bliss were so potent that I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to pull his face away so I could regain my strength. Heedless, he licked on, lifting my spirit to a plane of shuddering ecstasy. My passionate screams filled the air as climax followed climax, the second barely ending before the third began to build. The muscles of my abdomen went tense, my back arching to lift my body off the mattress. I pressed my thighs to the sides of his head and bucked wildly against his nibbling lips and his thrusting tongue. Only after my fourth orgasm was spent did he let me fall back against the bed to rest for a moment before mounting me.

    How could I take more after all those thundering climaxes? How could I possibly be ready to feel his cock inside me? How could I endure more stimulation so soon? Somehow I did! As he. slid slowly into my palpitating vagina, my excitement soared again. I was acutely conscious of the membranes of my sex parting before the onslaught of his plundering penis. He was filling me, stuffing me with the thick heft of his manhood. All the waiting was worthwhile. Nothing had ever felt this explosively pleasurable before. I clawed at his back as he drove rhythmically in and out of me, each stroke taking me up another notch on the perilous climb to total release. I tottered at the edge, frightened of the final plunge. I felt my consciousness slipping away. I was merging with the cosmic flow, my juices floating me to nirvana. For one aching moment, I clung desperately to the earth. Then Frank’s thrusting cock tore me loose, casting me spinning through the vastness of erotic space. I thought my orgasm would go on forever. Totally unaware, I sang my pleasure to the heavens. Frank joined me, adding his manly groans to the harmony of our fulfillment.

    Later, Frank carried me gently to the bath, tenderly lowering me into the hot water. Lovingly, he bathed me, soothing the sex muscles that had strained with pleasure until they were fatigued. Then, after drying me with a soft thick towel, he carried me to bed and held me in his arms until I fell into a smiling satisfied sleep. We’ve had lots of good sex since then, and I’m sure there’s lots more of it ahead of us. I’ll never forget that weekend though. I starved for two and a half days in a state of excruciating excitement before feasting on the best sex I ever had.

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